Chapter 3 - The Garden Aisle
Both men froze, staring at her in stunned disbelief.
“Sophie, what are you talking about?” Grant stammered, a frantic glimmer of hope flashing across his features. “You’re... you’re still marrying me?”
“Marrying you?” Sophie let out a soft, melodic laugh that had no warmth in it whatsoever. She turned her back on him completely, facing Alexander Reed. She stepped right up to the billionaire, so close she could smell the familiar, intoxicating scent of sandalwood, crisp cedar, and rain that had haunted her dreams for nearly a decade. She looked up into his gray eyes, tilting her chin with regal defiance.
“You said you regretted walking away,” Sophie said, her voice clear and resonant. “You said you wanted to fix your mistake. Well, Alexander... I have a hundred and twenty guests sitting under a marquee, eight thousand dollars' worth of non-refundable catering, and an aisle lined with white garden roses that deserve a ceremony.”
Alex’s eyes widened slightly, a rare spark of pure shock crossing his aristocratic face. “Sophie... are you saying what I think you’re saying?”
“I’m saying I need a groom who isn’t a thief,” Sophie stated simply. “And you need to prove that you’re not the coward who ran away to London eight years ago. If you want to make amends, don’t write a check to a bank. Walk down that aisle with me right now. Marry me today, in front of everyone. Be my husband.”
Grant let out a strangled shriek. “Are you out of your mind?! You can’t marry him! We have a marriage license with MY name on it!”
“A license that requires signatures after the ceremony,” Sophie fired back without even glancing in his direction. “The officiant is my uncle David. He hasn’t filed the paperwork yet. We can sign an emergency municipal amendment at city hall on Monday morning, but for the people sitting out in that garden, the show goes on.” She kept her eyes locked on Alex. “Well, Mr. Reed? Do you have the nerve, or was all that talk about never stopping loving me just hot air?”
A slow, devastating smirk spread across Alex’s chiseled lips. The shock melted away, replaced by an intoxicating fire of pure, unbridled resolve. He straightened his cuff links, stepped forward, and offered his arm to her.
“Sophie Bennett,” Alex murmured, his voice rumbling with an intensity that sent a shiver straight down her spine. “I would have married you in hell. Walking down a flower aisle is the easiest thing I will ever do.”
Sophie slipped her arm through his. The solid, unyielding strength of his bicep beneath the heavy wool felt like an anchor in the middle of a hurricane. She turned her head slightly to look at Grant, who was standing frozen in the corner, his mouth opening and closing like a dying fish, clutching his ruined tie.
“Grant,” Sophie said softly. “You wanted seven hundred and fifty thousand dollars to disappear. You’re not getting a single dime. But if you take one step out into that garden before this ceremony is over, I will personally hand the police the forged invitation, your fraudulent loan documents, and the audio recording Maggie just made from outside that cracked door.”
Right on cue, the library door clicked open wider. Maggie, Sophie’s fiercely loyal shop manager, was standing in the threshold holding up her smartphone, a wide, vindictive grin plastered across her face. “Crystal clear audio, boss. Every single word.”
Grant’s face drained of all color. He slumped back against the desk, entirely defeated, utterly broke, and stripped of every scrap of dignity he had ever possessed.
“Come on, Alexander,” Sophie said, turning away from her past without shedding a single tear. “Let’s go give our guests something to talk about.”
The grand French doors of the estate swung open. The heavy summer breeze rushed in, carrying the scent of cut grass, blooming jasmine, and the soft, elegant strains of Pachelbel’s Canon in D played by the live string quartet.
Sophie stepped onto the stone patio, her arm securely hooked around Alexander Reed.
A collective, audible gasp rippled across the garden like a shockwave. Chairs scraped against the grass. Aunt Ellen dropped her lace handkerchief. The mayor of the town nearly choked on his champagne. Whispers exploded across the rows like wildfire. Where was Grant Holloway? Why was Sophie Bennett walking down the aisle on the arm of Alexander Reed—the reclusive, multi-billionaire titan of Reed Global Logistics?
Alex didn’t look at the crowd. He kept his eyes locked straight ahead, his posture majestic, his pace measured and confident. He placed his hand gently over Sophie’s fingers resting on his forearm, giving them a firm, reassuring squeeze.
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“Head up, Mrs. Reed,” Alex murmured under his breath, just loud enough for only her to hear. “Let them stare. You are the most breathtaking thing this town has ever seen.”
A genuine smile finally broke across Sophie’s face. She lifted her chin, gripped her roses, and walked toward the altar to marry the man she had never truly forgotten.
