She would have loved every minute of this. The tiny details in planning Brex’s wedding. The traveling to the UK to visit Lennox and have one-on-one time with her. The spoiling of her first grandson and passing on motherly advice to Dekker. The knowing when she looked in my eyes how truly happy Gunner makes me.

“Yeah, she would have loved it, Dad. Every crazy minute of it. But you’re right, she helped plan all this in some way, whether through what she instilled in us in the short time we had with her or in some other magical way . . . because I feel her more now than I ever have.”

And I do.

Between that thought and the sight of my family happy and healthy in front of me, my heart has never been fuller.

So full it’s almost bursting.

“I know. I know,” he says.

Gunner looks across the distance and his eyes meet mine. His soft smile is all I need in this world. Just that and him.

“I love you,” he mouths to me, and I pat over my heart in response.

The DJ interrupts the moment and announces it’s time for the bouquet toss. “That’s you,” my dad says, as he puts a hand on my back to guide me to the dance floor.

“I’ll let some other woman catch the damn flowers.” I laugh as we step onto the dance floor.

“You’ll do no such thing,” he states emphatically. “It’s called tradition, Chase. Just suck it up, stand there, and take part in it.”

“Save me,” I mouth to Gunner, who’s having a good laugh watching my dad practically hold me in place.

The DJ goes through the instructions of where to line up and what to do. I stand in the crowd as Brexton turns her back to us and the DJ does a countdown.

Three.

Two.

One.

But instead of throwing the bouquet, my sister turns and walks toward the lot of us. We all turn to look around, confused and thinking something has happened. Especially when she puts the bouquet directly into my hands.

“What? No. That’s not how this works. You don’t get to pick who gets these. You don’t get to choose—”

“But he does,” she says with tears welling in her eyes and a smile on her lips that has chills chasing down my spine.

“What—Who—Brex—”

When she looks over my shoulder and gives an even softer smile to the person behind me, I turn, confused.

And the rest of my thoughts are knocked out of my head just like the breath that’s lost at the sight before me.

The crowd of ladies has separated, and Gunner Camden is on one knee before me. His eyes are swimming with a love that’s uniquely ours, and his smile says I’m all he sees. All he knows. All he wants.

“Gunner . . .”