I still won't claim to know her. There's so much more I want to know about her. She's only let me into a tidbit of her life, but everything about her fascinates me.

I pay Bobby and leave. When I return to the ranch, I grab the shopping bag I tossed into the truck.

When I was strolling down Main Street, there was a boutique with a mannequin wearing a jacket. I instantly thought of Georgia and had to buy it for her.

The moment I step into the house, I pull the coat out of the bag. I hang it up in the closet. I go into the kitchen, where I know she'll be.

Georgia insisted on baking the wedding cake, and Isabella and Emma wanted to help. She said it would be fun, so they woke up at the crack of dawn to start. Nobody was allowed in the kitchen. Breakfast was already in the dining room on covered plates when I returned from my workout. I could hear Georgia, Isabella, and Emma giggling when I left.

The feeling I can't seem to escape, and I don't remember ever having before this week, reappears when I lay eyes on Georgia. The three of them are all standing over the wedding cake. Four tiers are stacked one on top of the other in an off-white color.

The kitchen's a mess. Winter-white pansies, blue forget-me-nots, and pale-pink cyclamen flowers from the secret garden are everywhere. Twigs, pine cones, and little wooden hearts that she had the girls help her design last night litter the counter. They took a burning tool and engraved them. One has S and G on it. Another displays "Just Married."

A while passes, but I can't tear my eyes off her. Her apron has flour on it, and there's a little mark of frosting on her cheek. My nieces have a lot more on them.

She takes a forget-me-not and breaks the stem. She places it on the top tier, then says, "This is a trial run. On Saturday, we'll need to add fresh flowers and replace these."

"Can I put one on?" Isabella asks.

"Sure. You can too, Emma," Georgia states, handing both of them a flower.

She'll be an amazing mom.

I can see her with a dozen kids.

Georgia observes them, then glances up. She beams at me, and my pulse races quicker. "Hey!"

"So, that's what you needed the tree for," I assert, pointing at the wooden base of the cake.

Georgia asked Alexander to cut her an eighteen-inch diameter circle from one of the logs she chose last night. She wouldn't tell us what it was for, claiming it was a secret between her and the girls. They helped her put clear lacquer on it before they went to bed, and all three of them were tight-lipped.

She chirps, "It looks cool, right?"

I answer honestly, "I love it. It's going to fit perfectly with the rest of the decor."