Chapter 10 - The Foundation of Us
One year after the day my life fell apart at Cedar Ridge Lodge, I stood on the private rooftop terrace of our penthouse loft in the River Arts District.
The sun was setting behind the Blue Ridge Mountains, painting the Asheville sky in brilliant shades of amber, violet, and gold. The air was warm with the promise of summer, carrying the distant, pleasant hum of the city below us.
I wore a simple, elegant ivory silk dress—not because I was conforming to anyone else's timeline, but because it was what I wanted. There were no ninety-four stressed guests, no chaotic seating charts, and no lingering ghosts.
Just fifty of our closest family members and truest friends gathered on the rooftop garden we had designed together.
My father walked me down a short aisle of potted ferns and blooming white roses, his arm strong and steady beneath my hand. When we reached the archway at the front, Mason was waiting.
He wore a tailored black tuxedo with his shirt collar open, looking breathtakingly handsome, his dark eyes locked onto mine with an intensity that made my breath catch just as it had on the mountain.
There were no vows written on frantic pages, no rehearsed speeches about hoping someone would always come back. Our vows were simple, honest, and anchored in reality.
“I promise to stay,” Mason said, sliding a heavy platinum band onto my finger, his thumb brushing reassuringly over my skin. “In every storm, through every challenge, and for every tomorrow.”
“And I promise to walk beside you,” I replied, placing the matching band on his finger, feeling the solid, unshakeable weight of it. “Not waiting, not wondering, but building.”
“You may kiss the bride,” the officiant smiled.
When Mason pulled me into his arms and kissed me, the applause that rose from our family wasn't polite or cautious—it was thunderous, joyful, and fierce.
Later that evening, as the string quartet played softly in the background and guests laughed over champagne and gourmet dinner under the twinkling string lights, I walked over to the glass railing of the terrace, looking out over the glittering expanse of Asheville.
A pair of strong arms wrapped around my waist from behind, pulling me flush against a warm, solid chest. Mason rested his chin on my shoulder, looking out at the same view.
“Penny for your thoughts, Mrs. Reed,” he murmured softly against my neck.
I leaned back into his embrace, turning my head to press a kiss to his cheek, feeling the heavy, beautiful truth of where we were.
“I was just thinking about a little boy who asked a question a year ago,” I whispered, smiling as I looked up at the stars.
“What did he ask?” Mason asked, his arms tightening around me protectively.
May you like
“He asked if the wedding guy was coming back,” I laughed softly, turning fully in his arms and resting my hands against the lapels of his tux. “And for the first time in my life, I’m so glad he never did.”
Mason smiled, his dark eyes sparkling with quiet triumph as he kissed me again. “Some people aren't meant to come back, Claire. They’re just supposed to show you who is strong enough to stay.”
