Tracy Wolff - A Christmas Wedding

Willow shrugged even as she buried her head against Desiree’s neck. “How did you know, so fast, that Daddy was the right one for you?”

Desiree stiffened, stifling her own pain. She wrapped her arms around her youngest child and rocked her slowly, as she had done when Willow was a child.

“I just did, sweetie. One look at him and my heart recognized him as mine.”

Willow shuddered. “It wasn’t like that for me with James. It was slow, unexpected. It crept up on me and then suddenly, one day…”

“You knew you loved him.”

“I guess.” Willow took a deep breath, pulled slowly away. “One day I woke up and realized that I should spend the rest of my life with James. He’s perfect for me—he calms me down, he listens to me, he—”

“Turns you on.”

“Mama!”

“Willow!” Desiree echoed her daughter’s shocked tone with some amusement. “Just because I’m almost fifty doesn’t mean I’m dead. And it’d be a really bad idea to marry a man you’re not attracted to.”

“I know that. It’s just—”

“Just what?”

“Shouldn’t I be one hundred percent sure? Shouldn’t I know, without a doubt, that this is what I want? You knew you wanted Daddy, you knew you could never be happy with anyone else. I just want that same kind of certainty.”

Desiree fought the little voice inside of her that wanted to yell, “And look where that’s gotten me!”

Biting back the bitter words, Desiree turned to stare directly into the troubled darkness of her daughter’s eyes. “Life isn’t always certain, Willow. You make the best decision for you based on what you think and feel at the time. You can’t tell the future and you can’t live your life second-guessing yourself.”

“But you—”

“Stop it.” The words came out harsher than she’d intended, and Willow jerked back in surprise. Desiree sighed, reached up to smooth her daughter’s hair. “You’re not me. You’re not living my life. It’s absurd to expect things to play out exactly the same way.”

“I just want to be as certain as you were, as certain as Daddy was.”

This time she couldn’t stop the harsh laugh from exploding out of her. “Your father was nowhere near as sure as I was. Not by a long shot.”

“What do you mean? Your journals—”

“My journals are written from my point of view. Not your dad’s.” She stood and walked out onto the balcony, watching as the florist’s van drove up and Maria, their longtime housekeeper, went out to greet it.

“Willow, your father was very unsure about marrying me. Between the age difference and the money difference and your grandfather, he was certain he was making a mistake.” She turned to look at her daughter’s shocked face and this time her smile was genuine. “He figured we wouldn’t last six months, thought I’d cave to my father’s demands and the whispers of people around us.”

Willow’s eyes were wide, shocked. “But he married you anyway? Why?”

Like Desiree hadn’t asked herself that question at least a thousand times in the past hour? How could she answer her daughter’s question when she didn’t have a clue herself? She debated her options. Finally, opting for the truth, she said, “I don’t know.”

“Mama—”

“What are you so afraid of?

“What if this is all just a huge mistake I’ll grow to regret? You and Dad—”

“What about your father and me?”

“You started out so happy, so in love. And then…” Willow’s voice trailed off uncomfortably.

Desiree grimaced. Had their problems in recent years really been so obvious? If Willow knew, did that mean that Rio and Dakota did as well? The thought flattened her, devastating her when she thought she couldn’t get any more distraught. She searched for something to say to reassure her daughter.

“Honey, no one knows the future. No one knows at the beginning of a marriage how or when the end will come. Through death fifty years later or divorce in five years, nothing is guaranteed.”

“That’s my point. Why should I take this risk when it could end badly?”

Desiree shook her head, astounded at how good her daughter was at complicating things. How could she have forgotten that sympathy and understanding never got her anywhere with Willow? Just as she’d forgotten that Willow was more than capable of calling the wedding off because of a few last minute doubts.

“What if it doesn’t?” She hadn’t forgotten how to snap her daughter out of a good old-fashioned pity party.

“That’s the best you’ve got?” Willow’s voice was incredulous. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“I’ve already told you everything I know about the subject. What else do you want me to say?”

“I want you to say that I’m not making a mistake, that James is a great guy, that I love him and he loves me.”

“You already know all that, don’t you?”

“Yes, but what if that’s not enough?”

Willow’s words slammed through her like a freight train. When had life gotten so mixed up that love ceased to be enough?

Had it ever been enough? Or had she just been stupid to think that it was?

She stared at her daughter, the silence in the room thickening. When she finally spoke, her voice was harsher than she’d intended. “What do you want, Willow Rose? A money-back guarantee that nothing bad’s going to happen to you? An iron-clad agreement that this is going to work out exactly like you planned?”

“Mom—”

“Because life doesn’t work like that. Everything isn’t always right or wrong, black or white. Sometimes it’s shades of gray. Sometimes—” She broke off at Willow’s shocked expression, bit back the words that burned in her throat, in her gut. She crossed the room to rest her palm on her daughter’s cheek.

“I’m sorry, baby.”

“It’s okay.” But the words were jerky and her daughter rigid beneath her hands.

“No, it’s not.” Her hand slipped down to Willow’s chin and she gently tipped her face up until they were eye-to-eye. “Do you love him?”

“Yes, but—”

“No buts. Do you love him?”

“Yes.”

“Does James love you?”

“Yes.”

“Do you want to build a life with him?”

“Yes.”

“Have children with him?”

“Of course.” Willow’s eyes were huge, but the smile that trembled on her lips was suddenly real again.

“Grow old with him?”

“Eventually.”

“Then what else are you looking for, Willow?” Desiree smoothed a hand over her daughter’s long, black hair, stared into her heavily lashed, almond-shaped eyes. Jesse’s hair, Jesse’s eyes. Nausea churned, but she steadfastly beat it back.

“Today’s about a promise. Forget everything else. Forget the dresses, the people watching, all the planning. It’s all superfluous. Today is about a promise—the promise you’ll make to James and the one he’ll make to you.”

She stared out at the green and endless land she’d sacrificed everything for. “Have you ever broken a promise to James before?”

“Never.”

“Has he ever broken one to you?”

“Of course not.”

Desiree looked her daughter straight in the eye, even as anguish burned through her. “Then what else is there? If you trust him not to break his promises, if you know that you won’t break yours, what is there to be afraid of? Today he’ll promise to love and honor you forever and you’ll do the same for him.”

“Forever’s a long time, Mama.”

Desiree’s smile was bittersweet. “It’s only as long as you want it to be, baby. How long is that?”

Willow’s eyes grew soft and faraway, and Desiree could all but see the future in them. “An eternity, at least.” She smiled. “Thanks, Mama.”