Hi all,
I don't know if you remember me, or the story, but, I'm back, so is Taylor, and so is (hopefully) another couple zillion chapters of What The Eyes Can't See. Without making excuses, the nonsense that came from the Yellow lot came at the wrong time of my life - when I had far too much going on in real life (I'm telling ya - soaps have nothing on me!) - and as a result, I basically abandoned this story. I did always plan on coming back to it - if not, I would have written some crappy ending you'd have all been disappointed with. I've had to sit back and re-read the story from begining to end (and realised that FF has basically removed all story breaks I ever put in there, which means I shall have to go back and edit everything again... But I've also discovered just how bad my spelling and puctuation was in the early chapters, so it's a good thing. I just think that 231 chapters might take me a while.) I also hit random on my laptop and I've been watching episodes from the show over the five seasons to inspire the muses back. I think I've coaxed them back, but for love nor money could I get them to write what I wanted. Basically, going off my original plan, they were a good twenty chapters ahead of where I wanted to be, so the plan's changed - hopefully for the better - but I've had to wrap up a few things to get there. As a result, this chapter is a little jumpy, and I do apologise, but you're going to have to let me have this one. When the muses eventually cooperate, I will add the 'missing parts' in and probably stick it in What is, What Was and What Will Never Be. Anyway, I will shut up now, but I wanted to say a huge thank you for all of you that have returned to this, and for all the support you gave me all that time ago.
Cheryl
Lozzarooni - Can I just say, thank you again? Thank you!
Laplandgurl - they came back! Thank you. See, I should do the same with some of my books - I have so many in boxes at mine and my parents, which are clearly not going to get read for a very long time, but I don't have the heart to do it. I hope you get some sleep!
twilightgirl00000001 - I love Criminal Minds and it is something I considered in the past. I shall see if I can channel the characters!
Trizzy - Ah, I have plans for their marriage, but I can't say through fear of more spoilers!
Shockin'BlueEyes - Ah, thank you. You should definately try SN - Dean is too pretty not to watch! lol. And your English is good! I promise there will be some more fluff! Soon(?)
Ann - Thank you!
xSamiliciousx - I had plans for them to get married in what would equate to another million chapters, but the good news is, everything has changed!
meadow567 - I have never seen Avatar (the cartoon or the film), though I do want to see the film.
DreamerChild88 - Thank you, and I certainly will keep writing!
TVjunkie323 - :) Well, I'm keeping some things similar to how the show dealt with Marty. However, I like him, he's not going anywhere!
Bmangaka - the urge definately came back! It took a while, but it's back.
sparkyCSI - nah, that chapter had been written for ages. But they are back now! Marty will be wrapped up after Snow Day, which will be coming up very soon.
CaitlinTierney - Yup, lots of ideas for it, and none of them end up with Marty getting locked up. Bad CSINY writers! lol.
Righto, first of all, big thanks to sparkyCSI - my fabulous beta, and Aphina, both of whom are forever helping me out of a jam (both with the story and with the emotional wreck that is my life). Secondly, I'm going to dedicate this chapter to Lozzarooni for giving me the kick I needed - thanks girl!
What The Eyes Can't See
Chapter 232: I'm gonna stop lookin' back and start movin' on And learn how to face my fears
Taylor lay in bed, staring up at the cracks in the ceiling. They had been slowly making their way around the house decorating – the bathroom had a new suite in it, the kitchen just needed a floor fitting, and the front room, Cordelia's and Riley's rooms were completely finished. They weren't structural cracks – just the few remaining shreds of evidence that there had once been a fire in the home – but they stretched over the ceiling forming an intricate spider web.
She'd left Flack and his brother to discuss tales of Asia not long after she'd sent Riley to bed much to the teenager's dismay. She had been fascinated at the stories of pandas and wanted to hear all about the last Chinese New Year Sean had celebrated. It wasn't that she didn't want to listen, because she had found it equally as entrancing, but she had been struggling to keep her eyes open.
Now that she was in bed, however, her eyes were wide awake. She had been trying to distract herself by attempting to identify a map of the New York Subway system in the cracks, but her mind kept shooting back to the wedding. And then she kept attempting to convince herself that Marty was happy… but then she remembered that not once had the smile reached his eyes.
She let out a sigh and brought her hands up behind her head. "He's happy," she muttered. It wasn't that she was jealous as Flack said. She truly wasn't. Under normal circumstances, she really would have been overjoyed. Maybe it was just the fact that he hadn't even told her he had broken up with Dallas. Or maybe-
"I can hear you thinking from the hallway," Flack told her as he walked into the room.
Taylor rolled herself over and put the lamp on. "I'm trying not to," she offered.
Flack shrugged his trousers off and pulled on a pair of pajama bottoms as he disappeared into the bathroom. "So, while you're in a thinking mood, what do you say about Sean staying?" he called to her as the taps started running.
Taylor shrugged. "Of course he can stay the night. Do you need me to grab some clean sheets?"
"Atchuule, a sed ee cug scay hore a cupwl o weexs," he told her, toothbrush in his mouth.
Taylor frowned before turning to face him. "And to the average American who doesn't speak Colgate?"
Flack disappeared back into the bathroom before reemerging a minute later. He hurried over to the bed and slipped under the covers, leaning over Taylor to turn the light off. "Actually," he said, as the room descended into darkness. "I said he could stay a couple of weeks."
Taylor sat up in bed and turned to glare at him. "What?"
Flack took a deep breath and pulled Taylor back down beside him. "He's ready settle down and he needs somewhere while he sorts his career out." Sean had attended academy a few years after Flack had, but upon graduating, instead of joining the force, he had decided he needed to work out if following in the footsteps engrained by the men of the Flack family was the right path for him. Evidently, working in bars across Europe, Asia and Australasia had proved it was what he wanted to do.
"And the problem with him going back home and living with your parents – never mind," Taylor said, answering her own question before she asked it. "Is there any member of your family that your dad hasn't fallen out with?"
Flack shrugged. "He's still married to my mother," he offered. He shrugged again. "He's still under the delusion that Sam is his golden girl."
"Don, the only positive thing I could find about Marty getting married was that I was going to get my study back."
"You don't work from home much anymore. I thought you said Nancy didn't like it," Flack pointed out.
"Not the point," Taylor snapped at him. "We were also going to get some more alone time, you said."
Flack smiled patiently at her. "He's going to be a built in babysitter. If he's looking after Riley, that means we can go out a bit more."
Taylor glared at him. "Like that will happen. If he's a rookie, he's going to get stuck on the shift with the most unsociable hours for the next few months at least. And I thought Marty would be able to babysit, but he was working just as much. And the fact is, we can't expect Sean to babysit in his free time, just like we couldn't expect Marty to. He's going to want some free time to find a wife off a street corner."
"Are you more pissed about Sean staying, or Marty getting married?" Flack frowned.
Taylor took a deep breath. "Alright."
Flack narrowed his eyes. "That's it?"
Taylor nodded and smiled.
"I don't buy it," he told her flatly.
Taylor shrugged. "Well, at the end of the day, we're just helping him to be able to do his job. And if his job is important to him, we should support him. Even if it is a dangerous job he's doing. Right?"
Flack pulled a face. "Alright, you've got me. Is that a dig at me? Because I wear a vest, you know?"
Taylor shook her head. "Of course it's not. I'm just saying, some people can suddenly work out their true calling, and sometimes it's not the easiest or safest routes."
"I think this is one of those occasions where I just agree with you, isn't it?" Flack asked her.
Taylor settled back into the bed and pulled the duvet up under her chin. "Oh, and it turns out that the Cabbie Killer also sent me a text message when he send Reed one."
"Taylor!" Flack exploded.
Taylor looked up at him and shrugged. "What? It's not like I did anything about it."
"And is that out of choice, or simply because you didn't read the text message in time?"
Taylor glared at the ceiling.
"Exactly!" he shouted. "Taylor, if you'd have read that, you would have gone straight to him, and it would have been me almost missing Stella's baby shower."
"You mean you would have left me in the hospital?" she asked, trying to lighten the mood.
It didn't work. "You don't get it, do you? You just have no concept of danger!" he yelled at her.
"You're going to wake Riley up," Taylor told him through gritted teeth. "And for the record, I would have gone straight to Mac with the text message."
"Taylor, you had potentially the biggest scoop of the year handed to you on a plate," Flack pointed out. "You were never going to just go to Mac."
Taylor stared at him; mouth open in disbelief as an intense pissed off feeling crept over her. "Don, he can stay on the couch for a couple of nights, but that's it," Taylor huffed, before rolling over, her back to him, and yanking the covers over her shoulder.
Flack blew out a breath. "Fine," he muttered as he reached up and turned the light out.
Taylor lay on her side, glaring at the wall opposite. Finally, she let out a breath and rolled onto her other side to stare at the back of Flack's head. "I would have wanted to be involved, yes," she admitted. "But I wouldn't have gotten in that cab by myself, Don." When he didn't respond, she rolled onto her back and stared at the ceiling. "A couple of months ago, I probably would have," she told him in a low voice. "I accept that. But you know, I died. And I really don't want to do that again anytime soon. I have too much to lose."
Flack let out a sigh and rolled on his back, turning his head to study her profile. "Taylor, it's not the fact that you would or wouldn't have gotten into the cab. It's the fact that you want to be in the middle of it. I don't particularly want you to be dying again anytime soon either."
Taylor turned her head and gave him a sad smile. "We seem to keep having this conversation, don't we?"
"Too often," he agreed, reaching over and pulling her over.
Taylor nuzzled herself into the crook of her shoulder. "He can stay," she conceded.
Taylor sat at her desk singing along to Katy Perry, completely off key. With a frown, she minimized her virtually blank document and pulled up a game of Solitaire. Forty minutes later, she was still stuck in the losing streak, and nothing had been written, much, like nothing had been written all day.
With a sigh Taylor closed the game. Seconds later she was tapping her fingers on the desk, staring around the room at anything but the monitor. Finally her eyes fell on Reed's vacant desk. The official work line was that he was off on sick leave. According to Mac, Reed was contemplating whether or not he was going to return to journalism. He was doubting himself, but Taylor knew he'd be back – it was in his blood.
Finally, Taylor rolled her eyes and shut the computer down. She'd written nothing all morning and it was obvious that the writer's block wasn't about to go anywhere in a hurry. She gathered up her things, dropping them in her purse and headed out, up to Nancy's office.
"Nancy, I'm calling it a day," Taylor said, sticking her head around the door.
"No you're not," Nancy told her without looking up from the papers she was scribbling over in a red marker.
Taylor stopped and stuck her head back in the room. "Excuse me?"
"You're not going home. You have another four hours before your finishing time."
Taylor blinked and stepped in the room. "Since when?"
"Since a normal working day began," Nancy said, still not looking up from the papers.
"Yes, but, I have this afternoon booked off to pack," Taylor started to explain.
Nancy cut her off. "No buts, Turner. Reed is off sick and I need you to make sure that the website is covered."
"Since when?" Taylor asked, her voice becoming very high pitched.
"Since Reed went off sick and I discovered that web hits have dropped considerably. Do you know how much revenue we make from the website in this digital age?" Nancy asked her, finally putting her pen down to look at her.
Taylor frowned. "Nancy, I don't work on the website."
"Until Reed gets back, you do now," Nancy shrugged.
"Nancy, working on that website is a twenty-four hour job. I don't have twenty-four hours to spare any more – I have other commitments. I worked hard not to have to work twenty-four hours," Taylor told her, trying very hard to keep her voice level.
"You're a journalist Taylor. It's a twenty-four hour, seven days a week, fifty two weeks a year job. And you're the one that signed up for it." Nancy pulled off her glasses and stared at Taylor. "And if you can't handle that anymore, then I will find someone who can."
Taylor blinked. "You are being completely unreasonable."
"I am asking no more from you than what any other editor would ask in this city," Nancy sat back. "I think it's fair to say that my predecessor was far too relaxed with you."
Taylor stared at the short haired woman in bewilderment. "Maybe, but he never asked me to do someone else's job."
Nancy took a deep breath. "Taylor, this paper was the last in the city to get a website and it only did that when I took over. The way things worked changed then. And if I say you need to cover Garret's blog, you will cover Garret's blog."
Taylor glared at her but managed to bite her tongue.
"And while we're on it, it looks like Garret will be out for the next two weeks so you will be covering it until then."
Taylor frowned. "I'll be covering one week of it."
"Um, did I miss the part where you suddenly became editor?" Nancy asked her coldly.
"No," Taylor told her. "But my friend is getting married. I fly out tomorrow."
Nancy returned her attention to her papers. "Yes, about that. Unfortunately, due to the lack of manpower, you're going to have to postpone your vacation arrangements and man the fort."
"But it's a wedding," Taylor blurted out. "I'm a bridesmaid. I can't exactly postpone it."
"You can if you want your job," Nancy shrugged.
"No," Taylor said suddenly.
"I beg your pardon?" Nancy asked her.
Taylor slowly shook her head. "I don't know," she said, just as surprised at herself.
"Right, well, back to your office."
Taylor turned, walking to the door. And then she stopped and turned around. "No," she repeated.
Nancy looked up from the paperwork she had resumed reviewing and cocked her head. "No?"
"No," Taylor said again, more firmly. "No, I'm not going to do it."
"You're not?" Nancy asked, an amused smile growing across her face.
'No, I'm not," Taylor said. "And you know why, Nancy? Because yes, maybe Alex was a softer boss, but he was a better boss. If he wanted us to do something out of our job description, he would have asked us, and because he would have asked, I would have said yes. But for you, I don't want to say yes. Because you're a bitch. And I quit," Taylor told her all in one breath.
"You walk out of this room, Turner, and I'll make sure you never work for a paper in fourteen states including this one," Nancy told her calmly.
Taylor shrugged. "See if I care," she told her before she walked out of the room.
Strangely she didn't see a single person on her march back to her office. Even as she made a detour to the supplies cupboard, emptied out a couple of boxes of pens all over the floor, and then thrust her belongings into them before marching to her car.
As she dumped the boxes in her trunk she almost wished someone had bumped into her. Given her the chance to tell her she was insane before it was too late to do any more damage to her career. Only no one did, and as that realization set in, so did the panic.
She slammed the trunk shut, turned and ran.
Flack sat hunched over his desk trying to catch up on the mountain of paperwork that had been piling up over the past few weeks as he'd been working on the Cabbie Killer case. It was two familiar smells that drew his attention from the work: the coffee placed under his nose, and the scent of Taylor's perfume. "Thanks Tay," he murmured, reaching for the cardboard cup.
"Guess again."
He looked up and found Grace standing over him. "What did you do to your hair?" he blurted out.
Grace's hand shot up to her once blonde, now virtually black hair, and tucked it behind her ear. "You don't like it?" she asked him nervously.
"It's great," he told her, staring in bewilderment at it. It looked thicker and longer… and strangely familiar. "Just a bit of a shock, considering you were blonde yesterday."
"I broke up with my boyfriend," she explained, taking a seat at her desk opposite. "I wanted to try something completely different – see if I could attract a different kind of guy."
"Oh… sorry," he muttered, feeling like a complete jerk. "What, uh, happened?"
Grace shrugged. "He wasn't the one for me," she told him, staring straight at him.
Flack blinked uncomfortably, looking around the room for anything to distract him. She looked like Taylor and it was freaking him out. He was exceedingly grateful to find Bosco making his way over, despite the fact he was frowning. He jumped out of his seat and hurried over. "Bosco!"
"Dude, your girlfriend's going loco," the officer declared.
Flack stared at him. Bosco had a way of saying things without beating about the bush, but sometimes, he was too to the point and it took a minute to process. "What's up with Taylor?"
Bosco let out a sigh. "We got a call out to someone acting crazy – sitting on the edge of the bridge, muttering to themselves like they were gonna jump. Davis attended and said it was Taylor and that we should probably get you."
"Where is she?" Flack barked at him.
Taylor stared down at the water below her, staring through it more than at it. What the hell had she done? There was no way Nancy was going to take her back, and the truth was, she didn't really want to go back. But the fact Nancy had promised that finding another job was going to be impossible – she believed that. And she had bills to pay, a teenager in her care, a car, the rent, she was still paying the excess on her car insurance from the GTO taking a header into the East River, and the excess on the medical insurance… the more she thought about it, the tighter her hands gripped the stone beneath them.
"Tay?" Flack's voice floated over to her softly.
"I did something stupid," Taylor admitted without moving.
"Ya wanna tell me about it?" he asked her, his voice moving closer to her.
"I quit, Don," she whispered. "I quit my job. I don't… I… my…" she gasped, her chest feeling suddenly restrictive to her breathing.
"Tay, ya wanna come down off there for me?" Flack asked from her side, his tone of voice remaining calm and soothing.
Taylor finally moved her head to face him – her panicked brown eyes meeting his reassuring blue ones. He gave her a smile and reached his hand out towards her. Slowly, they wrapped around her waist. After a moment's resistance, her body relaxed into him. "It's gone, Don. I threw it away and I can't take it back," she sobbed into his shoulder.
Flack sighed and scooped her up, lifting her up and off the wall before setting her down on the path. "How about we leave here and go somewhere a little more private to discuss it?" he asked her, looking around at the people who had stopped their walk in the Park to watch a crazy woman sitting on the edge of one of the many bridges over the river.
Taylor glanced around suddenly feeling stupid and nodded. "I wasn't going to jump, you know," she whispered.
"Tay, that water is about eight foot down and eight feet deep. You'd have only gotten wet if you had," he pointed out, leading her over to his car. He opened the door and settled her in the passenger seat before heading for the driver's seat. "Now, what happened?"
"I quit my job," Taylor mumbled. "Nancy just pushed me too far – she was telling me that I had to cover for Reed."
Flack frowned. "People quit their jobs every day, Taylor. I just don't see many of them sitting on the edge of a bridge in the middle of Central Park."
Taylor looked up at him, eyes wide. "I was rude, Don. I told her where to go – I called her a bitch. And she told me that I wouldn't get a job in fourteen states, not that it matters because I only need one in this state. She's important, Don. If she says I'm not going to get another job, she's right. And we have rent, and bills – lots of bills – and then there's Riley who we are supposed to be getting into private school-"
"Taylor," Flack cut her off. "Breathe. Firstly, I have to say that the thought of you not working there anymore doesn't exactly sadden me. But I also have to point out – what am I?"
Taylor stared up at him, blinking at him in confusion.
Flack rolled his eyes. "Working detective, Taylor. What do you think I do with my earnings? They can cover us until you find something else. And you will find something else. I'm sure if you put a call in to Alex he would put in a good word for you. And being a journalist isn't the end all of careers. My mother had a very satisfying life as a housewife."
Taylor's mouth fell open in horror. "A housewife?" she repeated.
Flack smirked. "I'm winding you up. But there are other careers out there. "
Three days later
Stella put the last of her toiletries into her bag and placed it in the suitcase, zipping it shut. With a small groan, she pulled it off the bed and made her way to the front door. She was the last one to catch a flight out to Montana. Taylor, Flack and Riley had flown out two days previously with Danny and Lindsay, and she was originally booked onto the same flight with Mac, Adam, Sid and Hawkes the day before. However, at the last minute, her OB-GYN had cancelled her check up and rescheduled it for that morning.
She had been tempted to say 'whatever' and get on the flight anyway, but as she was only a couple of weeks to her due date, she wanted to double check she would be alright to fly and told Mac she would meet him in Montana. She had been convinced the doctor would have said no, and Mac would probably have missed the wedding to stay with her, and she didn't want that. She had been pleasantly surprised when the doctor had told her that she was still fine to fly, and pregnant women could fly in their last week.
So she had gone home and was finishing up with the last items of clothing, waiting for Marty to come collect her. He had been unable to get the time off work, but had promised Taylor he would get Stella safely to the airport. There was a knock at the door as she arrived at it, and she opened it, finding Marty waiting for her with a smile. "You're ready?" he asked her.
"Very much so," Stella nodded. "I weekend relaxing is just what I need." She gave him a smile and then sighed. "Or maybe not."
Marty cocked his head at her.
"I do believe my waters have just broken," Stella told him calmly.
Marty glanced down. "Oh hell," he muttered. "Ok Stella, where is your overnight bag?"
Stella pointed at the suitcase. "Most of it is in that," she started to explained before doubling over and letting out a cry of pain.
"Welcome to the world of contractions," Marty told her, grabbing the suitcase with one hand, Stella's hand with the other. "Just remember to breath, and we're going to make our way to the elevator."
Slowly, he led her to the elevator and they got in. Two floors from the ground, it lurched to a halt with some truly horrific screeching noises. Marty gave Stella a smile, and started hammering the button.
"Marty, tell me the elevator hasn't just stopped," Stella told him through gritted teeth as she fought back the pain in another contraction.
"I would," Marty told her, pulling out his cell phone as he hit the emergency alarm button. "But I would be lying, and you're too good at your job to know I was lying. But it's okay. It's your first child. You're looking at an average of sixteen hours labor, so there's no hurry."
Stella, leant over, grabbing at his arm in a vice-like clamp. "Sixteen hours? Of this?" she hissed at him. "I don't think so. Get me out of here Marty, and get me to the drugs."
Marty grimaced as her nails stuck into his skin, and flicked his phone open, dialing 911. "Yeah, I'm stuck in an elevator with a pregnant woman," he told the woman on the other end of the phone before explaining the situation fully.
"It's going to be fine," he told Stella. "But I kinda need to check things out," he added, nodding his head at her.
It took a second for Stella to work out what he was implying. "Hell no, Marty. You are not about to be sticking your head or hands anywhere." She was cut short by another groan of pain, and she double over, sinking to the floor.
"Stell, trust me when I say, I would be happier if there were certain parts of your anatomy I didn't have to see, but your contractions are too close together for me not to be a little worried."
Stella leant back against the mirrored wall of the lift and nodded, hitching the dress up out of the way.
Internally, Marty was cursing his head off. She was crowning already. Not only was he in a confined space, with nothing to help him other than the contents of a suitcase, somehow he'd managed to avoid all the births in the ER at Urgent Care Center where he worked, but the last time he had been on the "Baby" rotation was before he worked in the morgue.
Externally, he reached for Stella's suitcase and unzipped it, routing through it, until he found a towel.
Stella glanced over at him. "Please tell me that's to wipe my head with?"
Marty leant over into the case and handed over a shirt. "Use that," he told her.
Stella leant over with a growl, grabbing his shirt collar and yanking him towards her. "Marty. I. Am. Not. Giving. Birth. In. An. Elevator," she told him, grounding out the words.
Marty loosened the grip on his shirt and pulled back. "Hate to break it to you, Bonasera, but yeah, you are. Now sit back and use those breathing tricks you learnt, because this is going to be over very quickly."
In reality, it was over in an hour, to Marty, it felt like three. To Stella, it felt like time had stopped. By the time the elevator made it to the ground floor, Stella was holding a beautiful baby boy. "Thank you," she muttered at Marty as she was wheeled into an ambulance.
"You ready?" Flack asked, sticking his head around the door.
Danny brought his attention away from the mirror to his suited friend. "Yeah."
Flack stepped into the room. "You're not nervous?"
"Nope," Danny told him, shaking his head. "Actually, I'm not. I thought I would be, but I really want this."
Flack grinned, clapping him on the back. "Glad to hear it. For a moment, I was afraid I was going to have to chase around the bars in Bozeman trying to find you."
Danny laughed. "Once upon a time, maybe. Not now." He frowned, looking at Flack. "You got the ring, right?"
Flack patted his pocket. "You bet. And speaking of rings, we should head outside. It's nearly time."
Danny gave his appearance one last check before taking a deep breath and striding purposely out of the room.
Flack was about to follow him when his phone started ringing. He pulled it out, frowning at the name on the display. "Taylor, don't tell me Lindsay isn't there."
"Actually," Taylor replied, already breathless as she wove in and out of the crowds in the small airport, trying to make her way to the exit. "I'm not there."
"Stella's plane was delayed?"
"No," Taylor told him. "Stella was. She gave birth to a little boy a couple of hours ago, and in all the excitement of Marty delivering him in an elevator, they forgot to call and stop me getting to the airport. And now I have to get back to the middle of nowhere, so you have to delay them, because missing one bridesmaid is one thing, but two of them?"
She hung up, clutched the skirt of her dress to her, and yanked her heels off, before charging full pelt though the parking lot to the truck she had borrowed from Ben.
"Dann-o," Flack called, catching up to the groom. "Yo, wait a minute."
Danny turned, still walking backwards down the hallway. "Don, I've been waiting ages for this, I don't want to wait any longer."
"Yeah, well, I have good news and bad news."
Danny stopped. "Tell me Lindsay hasn't done a runner."
Flack shook his head. "Stella's a mommy. But she's a mommy in New York, and Taylor's making her way back from the airport. She's gonna be a good half hour."
Danny nodded calmly and turned, heading in the opposite direction.
"Where are you going?" Flack called after him.
"To let Lindsay know," he called back over his shoulder. "I'm letting her know it's not my fault the wedding's been delayed."
Flack gaped after him. "It's bad luck to see the bride!"
Danny ignored him, heading for Lindsay's bedroom. Inside he could hear her and Katy laughing like they were little children again, and the sound bought a smile to his face. He rapped on the door and moments later, Lindsay opened it, her eyes shining. She froze when she saw Danny.
"If you're about to tell me you're calling it off-"
"Lindsay Monroe, I am marrying you. Today. However, there is going to be a slight delay in this process."
Lindsay's eyes widened. "What?"
"Stella had a boy and never made it on the plane. From what I can gather, nobody told Taylor this and she's on her way back from Bozeman."
Lindsay let out a small sigh of relief. "You do realize that it's bad luck to see the bride before the wedding, don't you?"
Danny shrugged. "I've been told. However, I refuse to believe you could be considered bad luck." He leant over and kissed her cheek. "You look beautiful." He stepped back. "See you at the other end of the isle."
Taylor followed Katy up the grass isle. The marquee had been erected the previous day ready for the partying later that evening, and as a precautionary measure should it have started raining, but it wasn't needed. The sun was still shining, the air was still warm, and despite the small crowd, everyone looked happy and relaxed. In the little orchard, the venue looked beautiful. And as Taylor took her place and watched Lindsay walk up the isle too, she realized her friend looked just as beautiful.
Taylor was mesmerized, barely paying any attention to what the minister was saying, as she stared at Lindsay and Danny. The only word she could summon do describe the pair was happy.
She glanced over, catching Flack staring at her. "Love you," she mouthed at him. She smiled as he mouthed the words back.
"Montana."
Danny's voice broke the spell and she focused her attention on him.
"If someone would have told me a couple of years ago that I was going to get married, I probably would have laughed at them. If they told me I was going to marry a country girl, I definitely would have laughed at them. And yet, here I am, in the middle of a field-"
"Orchard," Lindsay corrected him.
"Orchard," Danny repeated. "In the middle of the country, and all I can tell you is that nothing feels more right. I love you Lindsay, and I promise you that I'm going to look after you and your heart even when all that's left on me on this planet is the memory of me." He took the ring off Flack and slipped it on her finger. "You're mine now."
"Danny, there was a time when I thought I would never be happy again, much less be able to love again. I'd convinced myself that I had had my turn and I would never experience it again. But you broke down my defenses and you worked your way into my heart. I promise you that I'm never going to let you leave it, because the thing is, Danny, I've always been yours."
The tears that Taylor had been desperately trying to keep hidden away escaped as Lindsay slipped the ring on Danny's finger.