Rising Stars. Maisey Yates

he said huskily. “I will.” He took a deep breath as he cupped her face. “I will give you everything. Everything I have. Everything I am. Both the good and bad.”

      “For better or for worse.” Rising on her tiptoes, she kissed him again, in clear and complete defiance of the hospital staff. She felt the hard, satin strength of his lips, felt the heat of his tongue brush against her own. She wanted to kiss him forever. And she could. She was his wife….

      Callie pulled back with a horrified gasp, her eyes wide.

      “What is it, querida?”

      “I signed the divorce papers yesterday!” she wailed. She gave a choked sob as she threw her arms around him. “Oh, Eduardo. We’re divorced!”

      He blinked then slow joy lifted his handsome features, like the rise of the first spring dawn after endless cold winter. He gave a low laugh. Lifting her chin, he stroked her tears away with the pads of his thumbs. “Oh, my love. That’s the best news you could have given me.”

      She blinked in shock. “It—is?”

      “Of course it is.” He smiled down at her, then leaning forward, he whispered, “This time we’re going to do it right.”

      It was a warm evening in late July as Callie stepped out of her parents’ farmhouse to the porch, where her father was waiting in the twilight.

      Walter Woodville turned then gasped as he saw his eldest daughter in her wedding gown. “You look beautiful, pumpkin.”

      Callie looked down shyly at the 1950s-style, tea-length gown in ivory lace. “Thanks to Mom. She did the alterations from Grandma’s dress.”

      “Your Mama always makes everything beautiful. And so do you.” Tears rose to his eyes as he whispered, “I’m so proud to be your father.” His voice was suspiciously rough. Clearing his throat, he held out his arm. “Are you ready?”

      She walked with him the short distance across the gravel driveway. The rising moon glowed across the wide ocean of her father’s barley fields. The night was quiet and magical. Fireflies glowed through the sapphire night. As they went toward the barn, she could hear the cicadas at a distance, but even their eerie singing wasn’t enough to drown the loud drumbeat of her heart.

      Clutching her father’s arm with one hand, and a bouquet of bright pink Gerbera daisies in the other, Callie looked back at the farmhouse. Her childhood home was a little careworn, with yellow paint peeling in spots. But it was snug and warm and full of good memories. She looked at the swing on the porch, at her mother’s red flowers in pots. So many memories. So much love.

      “I just hope we do everything right,” she whispered.

      Her father smiled. “You won’t.”

      “Then I hope we do half as well as you and Mom.”

      He put his hand over hers, his craggy face sparkling with tears. “You will. You two were made for each other. He’s a good one,” he said gruffly.

      Callie resisted the urge to laugh. Her father had a new appreciation for Eduardo since their three days up at the fishing cabin in Wisconsin. Any man who could face Callie’s father, her four uncles and six male cousins, and Brandon, all with guns and hunting bows, was clearly man enough to be Walter’s son-in-law. The way Eduardo had humbly asked permission for his daughter’s hand in marriage hadn’t hurt, either.

      Somehow, even Brandon and Eduardo had managed to bury the hatchet. The story she heard afterward was a bit muddled, but apparently while they were at the cabin Brandon had nearly shot Eduardo in the foot with his hunting rifle. Callie was rather dubious about how this equaled friendship, but afterward the two men had drunk beer around the campfire. “Marrying you two Woodville sisters, we realized we needed to be allies,” Eduardo said with a grin, and Callie wasn’t sure whether she should be offended or not.

      Eduardo had won Jane’s approval even more easily, simply through his vigorous appreciation for her cooking and fruit pies. “Although,” her mother had said coyly, “a few more grandchildren wouldn’t hurt.”

      Eduardo had looked at Callie with a wicked grin, even as his voice said meekly, “Yes, ma’am.”

      At the thought, Callie’s eyes welled up. She was finally sure about a question that had distracted her for days. She could hardly wait to tell Eduardo …

      “Don’t cry!” her father said, aghast. He pulled a handkerchief from his coat to dab at the corner of her eye. “Your mother would never forgive me if she thought I said something that smeared your makeup.”

      “I’m not crying,” Callie wept. Blinking back tears of his own, he patted her hand and led her past the outdoor reception area, which had a temporary dance floor lit up by torches and surrounded by coolers full of beer and the finest champagne. They reached the barn, and Callie stood in the huge open doorway in her wedding gown beside her father, who was beaming with pride.

      The music on the guitar changed to an acoustic version of the Bridal March. All at once, her friends and family rose from the benches used as makeshift pews, gasping as they stared at Callie.

      But she had eyes only for Eduardo.

      He stood at the end of the aisle, handsome in a vintage suit. His dark eyes lit up when he saw her, and he looked dazzled. He was flanked by the best man and maid of honor, who themselves were planning to wed in just two months’ time. Sami’s leg still hadn’t completely healed, and she used a crutch, but she glowed with happiness. So did Brandon, every time he looked at her. He’d cheered Sami throughout her hospital stay by talking about the small farm they would buy once they wed, using the insurance check from the wrecked Rolls-Royce. Callie felt a lump in her throat as she looked at two of the people she loved most in the world, who were both happy at last.

      And so was she.

      Today, she would marry her best friend. But Eduardo wasn’t just her best friend. He was her soul mate, her lover, the man she trusted, the father of her child. The man she wanted to sleep with every night. The man she wanted to wake up to every morning. The man she wanted to fight with, to make love to. The man she wanted to yell at and laugh with. The man she wanted to love for the rest of her life. Her partner.

      “Dearly beloved,” the parson began, “we are gathered here today …”

      As he spoke the magical words that would make them once again man and wife, Callie looked at her once and future husband. Swaying lanterns glowed above them in vivid colors as Eduardo looked down at her. Love illuminated his chiseled, angular face. His dark eyes were deep with devotion.

      “Who gives this woman to be married to this man?”

      “Her mother and I do,” Walter said, and Callie heard the tremble beneath his rough voice, felt the shake of his burly arm as he handed her over to Eduardo’s keeping. Kissing her father’s cheek, Callie smiled down at her mother in the front row, who held baby Marisol in her lap.

      As the parson spoke the wedding homily, Callie listened to the soft wind against the barley. She heard the creak of the old barn around them as Eduardo spoke his wedding vows, and the low timbre of his voice reverberated through her soul. She felt the strength of his powerful, gentle hand as he slid a plain gold band on her finger, simple and special and eternal. Just like their growing family.

      Callie hid a smile. She could hardly wait to tell him that he wasn’t just becoming her husband again, but a father again, too. Their baby was due in February. Perhaps she would whisper the news in his ear during their first dance, while they swayed together surrounded by flickering torches, beneath a sky so wide it stretched forever. Maybe they’d spend the summer here, autumn in New York, winter in Spain. Their love crossed oceans. But when it was time for her baby to be born, she knew there was only one place she wanted to be. Home.

      And as she looked up at Eduardo, that’s exactly where she was. In his arms, she was home. No matter where their lives took them.

      “And do you, Calliope Marlena Woodville, take