Tove capped her lipstick and reviewed her face in the mirror. She did have a glow. How about that? Behind her, Patrick shrugged into his suit jacket and pushed his hair back from his forehead.
“Ready to go?” His dark gaze roamed over her, his expression one of obvious appreciation. “That outfit looks stunning on you, by the way.”
“Thank you.” She felt almost flirtatious as she tweaked the broad collar of the dark champagne-colored silk top with its deep V-neckline. In matching trousers and elegant pumps, she was ready to walk her daughter down the aisle and then dance the night away. A pang went through her as she remembered that this was it: a watershed moment. Her little girl was all grown up. Tomorrow she and Patrick would part ways and never see one another again. Then she suppressed the emotion. Tonight, she would just enjoy and not think about the future. Live in the now for once.
“Let’s go.”
He offered an elbow and they proceeded down through the hotel to the big, white tent on the resort’s lawn. This time it was even fancier than before, with even more flowers everywhere and the soft glow of white fairy lights wrapped in tulle.
“Well, this all looks very nice,” Patrick said as they were hailed by the wedding planner, iPad cradled in her arms.
“Tove, are you ready?” the planner asked. Tove nodded and the woman bustled off to her next task.
“Go ahead and take a seat in the first row on the right,” Tove said to Patrick. “And save me one next to you.”
“You got it.” He kissed her on the cheek as an all-too familiar voice behind her said, “And what side of the aisle am I even supposed to be on?” Anthony. Tove turned, a new confidence stiffening her spine.
“Well, you’re supposed to be on your daughter’s side.”
Anthony’s face melted into that you’re so tedious, Tove expression. “Which side is that?”
“It’s the right, but you have twenty-five years of not knowing anything about your daughter, so I’m not surprised you don’t know where to go.” Tove’s eyes flicked from Anthony to his wife and back.
“Well, it’s not like there’s a bride’s side and a groom’s side,” Anthony said, his expression peevish.
Tove took a long breath in. “No. There is no groom. Your daughter has known she was gay since she was ten. I would have thought even you’d have figured that out by now,” she said softly. “Or are you just looking for things to complain about since this event isn’t about you?”
“Well, this whole affair. Silly, really. Women marrying women.” Anthony waved his hand as if to dismiss the tent, the flowers, the people around him, everything.
Rage surged through Tove. “Get. Out.”
For once, Anthony looked surprised. “What?”
Tove fought to keep her breathing even. “I said get out. I was willing to put up with you if you were going to at least pretend to support our daughter, but if you’re going to behave like this, you’re not going to do it here.”
“And what gives you the right to tell me to leave?” Anthony sneered.
“The fact that I am your hostess. The Coopers and I, we paid for this. You’re abusing our hospitality and disrespecting our children and you are now going to leave.”
His eyes went hard and dismissive “Right. Anyway, darling, let’s find a seat.” Anthony pulled his wife toward the center aisle and Tove stepped in front of them, folding her arms. He gave her a bored look. “Are you really going to create a scene at Emily’s wedding?”
Tove took a shuddering breath. “No, it’s you who are doing that. I’ve told you that you have to go. If you insist on staying, you’re the one making the scene. I’m sure the tabloid headlines will be delightful.” Tove realized Patrick had quietly stepped up beside her, a silent show of support.
“You wouldn’t,” Anthony said, that familiar bored expression making an appearance.
Tove’s jaw clenched. “Try me.”
“Move it along,” Derrick Cooper said as he stepped up on her other side. She blinked. She hadn’t been aware that he was even there. “You disrespect my daughter and the woman she loves, you get out.” He pointed toward the tent’s opening.
Anthony appeared to consider trying to brush past the three of them, then abruptly turned, Sofia tottering on her heels and practically running to keep up with him.
“Think I should make sure he’s really gone?” Derrick asked, scowling.
“Nah. He’s halfway back to Italy by now,” Patrick said. “Let’s get these girls married.”
“Beautiful ceremony,” Patrick murmured in Tove’s ear as the girls shared their first wedded kiss. “Is Emily okay that her father’s not here?”
She shot him a slightly stricken look. “She doesn’t know yet.”
The two brides were absolutely gorgeous. Hayley’s locs were twisted up into an elegant knot twined with gold ornaments and she was in a pure white satin gown of a severe, architectural cut. For her part, Emily’s blond hair was in loose waves streaming past the shoulders of her deconstructed, ivory bohemian gown.
They were utterly wrapped up in each other, even as they turned and walked up the aisle.
“Do you think she’ll care?” Patrick asked.
Tove turned away from her daughter’s retreating back to meet his gaze, her eyes bright with unshed tears. “I really hope not. It was such a lovely ceremony. And it’s all too possible he would have hijacked it if he had stayed here.”
“Probable, I’d say.” The protective feeling that had made him step up to support Tove surged back. This woman, her daughter, her friends, and true family—he felt protective of them all. Tove, Emily and Hayley, the Coopers, Parvati…everyone Tove cared about, he wanted to be there for them. He’d always loved taking care of the people he escorted in the past, but he’d also been happy with the transitory, transactional nature of the relationship. So, it was unusual that he was dreading the next day when they’d part ways.
He offered his arm almost automatically and Tove took it, proceeding up the aisle and out of the tent where cocktails and champagne were already being served on the lawn while the staff reconfigured the tent for dinner and dancing. Patrick snagged two champagne flutes from a passing waiter and handed one to Tove. “Congratulations, Mama Bear.”
“Thank you.” She touched her glass to his and sipped. “It hasn’t sunk in yet, I don’t think, despite all the planning that led up to this day. It feels like just last week I was putting bandages on scraped knees and teaching her how to ride a bike.”
“I know how you feel,” Andrea Cooper said, joining them with her husband. “By the way, nice work with your ex. Derrick tells me he was an insufferable ass and I’m glad you threw him out.”
“Yeah. Well. I haven’t told Em yet.” Tove glanced around, her gaze landing on the newlyweds, laughing with friends, pristine wedding bands gleaming on their fingers.
Andrea reached out and rubbed Tove’s arm. “She’ll be fine. I’ve heard the stories, and I know she was surprised that he accepted the invitation. I think she even dreaded him being here.”
Tove bit her lip, her eyes on her daughter. “I always worry. She’d get so excited when he’d show up when she was a kid.”
Andrea snorted. “Yeah. No. She was pretty cynical about it when we finalized the guest list. She gave thirty-seventy odds that he’d even show and said that even that was a long shot.”
“Okay.” Tove sipped her champagne, but still looked nervous. Patrick wrapped his free arm around her shoulders.
“It’ll be okay,” he said, squeezing her.
“Absolutely. With you two to support her, it’ll be even better.” Andrea saluted them with her champagne glass and a bolt of pure yearning went through Patrick. He wanted that future with Tove. Badly.