Chapter 10 - THE WRONG DOOR, THE RIGHT LIFESix months later, the private garden behind the Cole estate was transformed into a sea of white roses and warm fairy lights.
There were no corporate executives. No cold lawyers. No politicians looking for favors.
Just a small circle of people who mattered: Martha standing proudly in the front row wiping a tear from her eye with a pristine linen handkerchief; Hayes standing tall in a sharp suit as best man; and in the center of the lawn, two six-month-old babies sitting in a flower-lined wicker basket, giggling and grabbing at the petals.
I wore a simple, elegant ivory dress that hugged my waist, designed not by a high-end fashion house, but tailored by my mother, Grace Reed, who flew in from Georgia with tears of pride in her eyes and whispered in my ear before walking me down the grassy aisle:
“You keep going, baby. That’s all. You just keep going.”
At the end of the aisle stood Warren.
He wore a dark suit, his silver-templed hair catching the golden afternoon sun, his pale eyes fixed on me with a devotion so absolute it took my breath away.
When I reached him, he took my hands in his. They were warm, strong, and steady.
"You still think you walked into the wrong room that night?" I whispered with a smile as the minister opened his book.
May you like
Warren looked down at me, his eyes shining with a quiet, fierce joy.
"No, Amelia," he murmured, lifting my hand to press a soft kiss against my knuckles. "It was the only right turn I ever made in my life."
