I nod at her silent compliment.

Delores stands beside my sister, and Matthew takes his place to my left.

One more couple to go before Kate makes her entrance. This couple will steal the whole f**king show. I knew it, Kate knew it, and neither of us minded at all.

Mackenzie and James.

The flower girl and the ring bearer. The gold mine of every wedding photographer who ever worked.

Mackenzie’s dress is white lace with cap sleeves. Her long hair is pulled up at the sides with white daisies woven into the crown of blond braids. She’s old enough to be called beautiful but still enough of a kid to be called adorable. Her blue eyes shine as she waves to me from the end of the aisle.

I wave back.

She takes my son’s hand and together they make their way to me. James looks impressively lovable in his own custom Armani tux. He’s surprisingly well behaved—keeping pace with Mackenzie, holding his ring-bearer pillow straight, grinning for all the cameras taking their picture.

When they reach the altar, James drops Mackenzie’s hand, ditches his pillow, and runs straight to me. “Daddy!”

I scoop him up and look into his big, brown eyes.

“Is good?” he asks.

“You did great, buddy.” I kiss his temple. “Go sit with Grandma and Pop now, okay?”

“Otay.”

I set him down and my parents receive him into their pew.

Then I straighten up. The starting notes of the “Wedding March” fill the cathedral. All the guests stand and turn toward the closed double doors.

The wooden doors open. And the air rushes from my lungs.

Because she’s breathtaking. More stunning than I’d imagined—and my imagination is pretty f**king active.

Kate’s a vision in white—strapless, a sweetheart neckline with just a teasing taste of cle**age, fitted around the middle, accenting her tiny waist. Lace covers the delicate swell of her hips, flaring out behind her in a majestic train. An Irish-lace veil adorns her head, and her hair falls in shiny, dark waves beneath it. Her makeup is light, just enough to emphasize her flawless skin, full lips, and those big, dark eyes that captivated me the moment I saw them.

She swallows hard and gazes around the crowded cathedral, looking uneasy. Anxious. Until she sees me. At the altar—waiting for her.

She holds my eyes for a second, then slowly, surely, she smiles.

And it’s perfect.

My view of the world blurs, and I don’t give a shit if that sounds pussified. It’s true. And deserved. My chest tightens with tenderness, with the sanctity of this moment.

The music soars as Kate holds George’s arm, and he escorts her down the aisle. I can’t take my eyes off her, and her gaze never leaves my face. When they finally arrive, I shake George’s hand and he moves into the pew next to Carol.

Kate offers me her hand, and, as I did the first time we met, I bring it to my lips and kiss it reverently.

“You’re exquisite,” I tell her softly. “I . . . have no words.”

Her smile doesn’t falter. “I guess there really is a first time for everything.”

It’s as if everyone else, the whole damn church, just fades away. And there’s only the two of us. I cup her cheek and smooth her lip with my thumb. Then I lean forward and kiss her—softly and slowly and brimming with feeling.

After a few seconds, Father Dougherty clears his throat. Loudly. “That part comes later, son.”

I end the kiss and turn to the priest, still holding Kate’s hand.

Kate blushes and the guests’ laughter echoes off the walls.

I clear my throat. “Sorry, Father. Patience has never really been my strong suit.”

“Well, in this case, I don’t blame you.” He focuses on Kate. “You look lovely.”

“Thank you, Father.” She passes her bouquet of white daisies and roses to Delores.

“Shall we get on with it, then?” Father Dougherty asks.

From the first row, James yells, “Ready, set, go!”

Again, laughter ripples through the congregation.

Father Dougherty says, “I’ll take that as a yes.”

The wedding ceremony proceeds without incident—the prayers, the readings, the lighting of the unity candle. Then the moment you’ve all been waiting for arrives.

Father Dougherty asks, “Andrew, do you promise to be true to Katherine in good times and bad, in sickness and health? Do you promise to love, honor, and cherish her until death do you part?”

In a clear voice, I pledge, “I sure do.”

Kate’s eyes hold mine and her smile is so bright—so true—as Father Dougherty asks her, “And do you, Katherine, promise to be true to Andrew in good times and bad, in sickness and health? Do you promise to love, honor, and cherish him until death do you part?”

Tears well in her beautiful brown eyes. “Yes. Yes, I do.”

It takes everything I’ve got not to pull her to me and kiss her again.

Matthew passes me the rings and Kate holds out her hand. My throat tightens as I place her ring on her finger. “I give you this ring as a token of my love and devotion. I pledge to you all that I am, all I’ll ever be. With this ring, I marry you and join my life to yours.”

Kate holds my hand for an extra moment. Then, tears slip down her cheeks as she slides my own ring on my finger, saying in a voice choked with emotion, “I give you this ring as a token of my love and devotion. I pledge to you all that I am and all that I will ever be. With this ring, I gladly marry you and join my life to yours.”