And it’s nothing like I’d planned.

But the way my daddy’s looking at me—the love reflected in his deep brown eyes—is a memory I’ll hold for as long as I live. It makes every bit of this craziness worth it. Without a doubt, I’d go through the entire debacle again and again to land here in this moment.

Maybe I’ve made some questionable choices as of late. And it’s very likely the entire town will be whispering behind my back for years to come. None of it matters.

This…this instant. This feeling. Reaching this milestone is worth whatever it costs.

“What’s up, Sweat Pea?” His misty eyes are a blend of adoration and concern as he looks me over. The light filtering in through the stained-glass windows highlights the yellow tinge to his skin. It’s a stark reminder that his liver is shot—and of just how dire our situation is. I’m overcome with gratitude toward Lyle for swooping in and making this day a reality.

When I think of how close I came to ruining it…

I’d have never forgiven myself.

“My goodness, you’re more beautiful than I ever imagined.”

“Thank you.” I give his fingers a gentle squeeze, hesitating to spoil his happiness—not wanting to see the pride disappear from his face.

I’d love nothing more than stand here and exchange pleasantries, but those doors will open any second, and the one person I can’t afford to leave in the dark is this man here. “Promise not to freak out, okay?”

“Are you calling off the wedding?” My father’s tone is surprisingly hopeful, catching me off guard. “I told you not to do this just for me.”

“No…” I shake my head. “But I—I’m not marrying Trent.”

If I didn’t know better, I’d swear the deep breath that whooshes out of the man is born of pure relief. “All right, I’m trying to follow… But if you’re not calling off the wedding and you’re not marrying that weasel, who’s the groom?”

My stomach sparks to life with nervous flutters as I prepare for the worst. My body has yet to receive the memo that I’m no longer fifteen and that there’s no reason the two of us being together should matter any longer. “It’s Lyle,” I murmur, chewing the inside of my cheek.

“Livingston?”

“Yep.” I nod, trying to read his stony face.

He chuckles to himself. “You mean to tell me that son of a bitch finally located his balls?”

“Daddy!” I glance around nervously, hoping no one heard him. “We’re in church.”

“So we are.” He laces his arm through mine. “Let’s go get you two hitched, then.”

“You aren’t mad?” What is even happening right now?