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Besides those couple of hitches, things have been good. Better than good.
Today I officially become Courtney Fremont, which means my good is only going to get better.
I sit down on the couch in the dressing room so that Abby can help me with my shoes.
I look up at the door when someone knocks lightly. “Come in.”
Maddi walks in wearing a pale-pink tank dress with a hot-pink bow tied around her waist. Her dress is similar to Abby’s strapless one—I asked both of them to be my bridesmaids today. Maddi had been with me all morning, but her grandmother came and got her about thirty minutes ago so she could go see Lucas.
“Hey, sweetheart. Everything okay?” I ask.
“Yes. Everyone is ready. The church looks so pretty.”
“Even without the unicorns?” I ask.
She giggles. I think she suggested a unicorn theme every time we brought up planning—at first because she actually wanted me to have a unicorn-themed wedding, and later because she thought it was funny.
“I’m going to go outside to give you two a couple minutes together,” Abby says when she’s finished buckling the straps of my heels for me, which would have been impossible for me to do alone, since I can’t see my feet under the poof of my dress.
“Sure.” I nod at her, and she stands.
Then she leans down to kiss Maddi’s cheek and tells her she’s as pretty as a princess before leaving and shutting the door.
“I have something for you,” Maddi says.
I notice then that she’s holding a large wrapped package in both hands.
“Come sit with me.” I pat the couch, and she sits down next to me and hands me the gift. I rest it on my lap, wondering what it is. It’s heavy but thin, like a photo frame.
“What is it?” I ask.
“Your wedding present from me. Open it,” she says.
I feel my face get soft, and tears start to sting the backs of my eyes.
“Sweetheart, you didn’t have to get me anything.”
“I made it a few weeks ago. When Grandma saw it she said I should give it to you,” she tells me as I start to pull back the wrapping paper.
As soon as I have the paper off, I flip the sturdy frame over. My breath catches when I see the image behind the glass. It’s a picture of a stick-figure family: a woman and a man with a little girl between them, all three holding hands, with a dog at their feet and a round sun in the sky overhead. Each of our names is written under our stick-figure legs. It’s the most beautiful picture I have ever seen in my life.
My fingers trace over the lines of each of us in the picture, and tears fill my eyes. We’re drawn into love—it’s our family drawn on a simple piece of paper.
“I love it,” I finally get out through the tightness in my throat. “It’s so perfect. Thank you, sweetheart.” I look up at her.
“You don’t think it’s dumb?”
“No.” I set the frame near my feet, then turn to take her hands in mine. “It’s not dumb. That picture is beautiful. You are beautiful. I’m so grateful that you’ve given me that, but I’m more thankful that you’ve given me a family in you and your dad. I love you both.”
“I love you, too.” I see her eyes start to get wet, and she looks away for a moment. “Can I ask you something?”
“Of course. Anything.” I squeeze her hands.
“Can I . . . I mean, I know you’re not . . . but after today can I maybe call you Mom?”
Oh god.
I choke down the sob I feel climb up the back of my throat as I pull her against me. “If you want that, then yes. I would love it if you called me Mom,” I say. I hear her sniffle. “Thank you. Thank you for the gift, and for this moment. I promise I will cherish both of them forever,” I tell her while cupping her soft cheeks. She nods, and I swipe away a tear that has fallen from her eye. “Is my makeup messed up?” I ask, wanting to change the mood. She looks at me, blinking away tears, then shakes her head no and smiles. “Good. Then are you ready for us to officially become a family?”
“Yes.” She smiles brighter.
“Good.” I hug her once more, then get up off the couch. I walk us both to the mirror and smile at our reflection. Thankfully, my makeup is still in place—otherwise Abby would have had to go hunt down the makeup artist for a quick touch-up.
“You look like a real-life princess,” Maddi breathes.
I take in my strapless dress with a sweetheart neckline, an Empire waist, the same hot-pink sash as the girls have around my middle, and a big poofy skirt covered in millions of glittery pink and clear gems. I do look like a princess. Then again, Maddi is the one who picked my dress, because she said it looked like something a princess would wear. I wasn’t sure about it when I saw it on the hanger, but once I had it on I knew it was the one for me. “I hope your dad likes it.”
