Three Months LaterFiona always wanted to be a June bride. There was something about thelonger days and the warmer weather—the excitement of summer startingand the new season in life. For the past two months, she had been inplanning mode while consumed with meetings, and television and radiointerviews gaining traction with the newly formed Robert MerrillFoundation. Tens of thousands of names had already been added to thenational registry since she and Chris went public with their remarkablestory. Because of their dedication to the project, other foundations wereeager and willing to partner with them, much to her excitement. But all thatwould have to wait—until after she wed the love of her life and herbusiness partner, Chris Ballard.Sitting on the window seat in the library nook of Stone Farm, shewatched as her closest friends and new family milled about in the vibrantgreen meadow beyond the house. White folding chairs were lined up withgarlands of wildflowers hanging o
The wood stain dripped from the paintbrush onto Fiona’s coveralls andmade her moan with displeasure. She had been careful all afternoon, tryingto finish staining the shelving on the last bookcase until her little mishap.“What’s wrong?” Chris asked, entering the room. His worn flannel shirtwas un-tucked and hung over his faded jeans. He looked like a lumberjackwith his bearded face and muscular arms.“I dripped on my new coveralls, and now they’re ruined,” she pouted.He bought her the simple denim overalls while they were in town, the giftmaking her squeal with delight.“They’re not ruined. You just broke them in is all,” he grinned, taking arag and dabbing it across the denim bib. She couldn’t help but smile as hedoted on her.“There, good as new,” he assured, taking the brush from her hand andsetting it across the open stain container. “Come with me. You’ve been atthis all day, and it’s getting dark. I think it’s time for a break. I don’t wantyou to overdo it.”“I’m almos
“Thank you, Quinn, you’ve been a great help.” Chris shook the man’shand with intention, knowing how much he had helped Fiona for the lastseveral weeks.“It’s my job.” He grinned, walking Chris to the elevator. “Well, you certainly do it well.” Scooping Saint up into his arms, heentered the elevator car and pressed the button. “Good night.”“Good night Mr. Ballard.”Wanting to give Fiona a moment after the long emotional night, Christook it upon himself to take Saint outside to do his business. She told himon the car ride over how much she depended on her doorman, Quinn andhow the two of them had become friends. Knowing Ritchie and Bruce hadgone back to Boston after her surgery, and most of her circle of friendsthought she was vacationing, Chris was relieved she at least had Quinn tohelp her out. That she wasn’t alone after what she went through broughtChris peace, and he respected Quinn even more, thanking him profusely.Holding Saint in his arms as the elevator car ascende
“Is she the one? Is she Ma’s donor?” Michael yelled over the applause.Chris fixated on Fiona’s face. She didn’t have to say his mother’s nameout loud—he knew without a doubt, she was the one.Nodding at his brother, Michael and Anne sprang into action and helpedRosie out of her seat. The threesome headed toward the front of the stagewith his mother animated, shaking her head as if overwhelmed to meet heranonymous donor face-to-face finally. Only Fiona Merrill wasn’tanonymous anymore.“Chris, what are you waiting for?” his brother yelled over his shoulder.Every cell in his being buzzed with an electrical current, and hetrembled with the realization of what Fiona had done to save his mother’slife. She was the miracle he had prayed for.An image flashed in his mind of Fiona lying on her couch mere weeksbefore. Thinking back to that day, he realized, unbeknownst to him at thetime, she had been in recovery mode—no wonder she didn’t meet him inthe lobby; she was unable to. Why h
“Is that her?” Anne asked loudly over the applause.Chris nodded. He was a robot, standing among the crowd, pounding hishands together, shocked at the sight of Fiona.“Oh, my god! She’s beautiful!”Anne was right—something was stunning about the woman standing onthat stage. She was demure and beguiling. Her features seemed softer, withno traces of her usually resting bitch face. Something significant hadchanged, and his heart surged, the desire to be closer to her, making it hardto concentrate.Fiona wore long white gloves and clasped her hands in front of her. Theblue tulle gown she wore was embellished with beads, crystals, and littleflowery ornaments—paillettes, he recalled her explaining to him. Theankle-length tiered fringe skirt swished when she moved, and theembellishments winked in the lights. He remembered this dress—it was thesame one she was wearing the very first night they met at the Cipriani Club.That was the night her ex-boyfriend broke things off with her—th
Chris counted down the days until he would see Fiona again. Theirinitial visit was a bit unusual and short and sweet. She had told him she’dbeen under the weather, and he didn’t want to push it, opting to leave so shecould get some rest. He was also curious about the sealed envelope shegave him, anxious to open it away from her apartment. The cardstock invitation inside didn’t give much away. At the top werethe bold letters, VIP, and below that, the neatly embossed cursive letters andnumbers of the date, time, and the address of the Four Seasons. Leave it toFiona Merrill to have some kind of event at a fancy hotel. The part thatperplexed him the most was her inviting his entire family. Why? Why wasit so important to have his family there, and what in the hell was this eventanyway? She had never met any of them. The entire thing made absolutelyno sense. The magnetic pull between him and Fiona was undeniable, and heneeded answers. After his initial visit, they started text