Chapter 39

39

Dakota

" I don't understand why you had me drive up to the beach so early in the morning," I mutter as I pull up on the side of the road. "It's Christmas, for Pete's sake."

Just beyond the wild, tall grass and shrubs, the Pacific Ocean stretches out in a deep shade of dark blue beneath a cloudy sky. It's not going to be one of those sunny, perfect days, but at least it's warm and dry. I glance back to check up on Maisie. She's still asleep in her booster seat, head lolled to the side.

Chelsea gives me a guilty smile from the passenger seat. "I'm sorry. But I know you'll understand and eventually forgive me."

"I will if you tell me what the hell we're doing here," I mutter.

"It's a surprise. I just want to show you something, but you can only see it at this godawful early hour."

I shake my head slowly and pull the handbrake up. Grabbing the keys from the ignition, I get out while Chelsea scoops Maisie up in her arms, careful not to wake her. We make our way across the wilderness, and I take my shoes off once we clear it so I can feel the cool, golden sand on my bare feet. It's a feeling I've always cherished, a strange, warm comfort.

"What do you want to show me?" I ask.

"We're almost there; you'll see soon enough," Chelsea giggles.

I have no choice but to follow her across the strip of beach. I find a soothing sense in the sound of waves lapping at the shore. I get lost in the view for a moment, wondering if this is what real peace feels like. Nothing but the shore and the water, an endless stretch of blue, and the murmurs of Mother Nature tickling my ears.

"Do you want me to carry her?" I ask Chelsea.

"Nah, you're going to need your arms for what comes next," she says.

Her words leave me even more confused, but as soon as we crest upon a small ridge, I see it. Frankly, it's hard to miss. An archway of white wrapped in pink and white roses stands on the beach, about twenty yards ahead. A woman clad in a purple and gold robe is there, holding a large book in her hands.

Next to her, Archer, Reed, and Maddox await.

All three are dressed in sleek, grey tuxedos—perfectly tailored and matched against white shirts and salmon-pink lapels. They look dashing, ridiculously handsome as ever, and my heart starts to beat faster, feeling as if it might leap out of my chest. Maisie decides to wake up just as I remember to breathe.

"Mommy, Chelsea? Where are we? What's going on?"

"I'm about to ask the same thing," I murmur, yet keep walking.

The closer I get, the clearer it becomes. An explanation isn't necessary. Chelsea smiles, cautiously giving me a side-eye. "Just hear them out, Dakota."

"You can see that I'm not running in the opposite direction, right?"

"Dakota," Archer is the first to greet me, a broad smile illuminating his face. He moves away from the arch, revealing Trevor in a grey and salmon-pink suit of his own, his black hair slicked back as he holds up a small pillow with two wedding bands on top. "Sorry for the last-minute surprise."

I've been so wrapped up in the view before me that I didn't even notice Mr. Rawlings, the Monroe estate lawyer, until now. "Good morning, Ms. Ellis," he says. "Or, rather, Ms. Monroe. That would be more accurate as I believe you went back to your maiden name after the divorce was finalized."

"Yeah, hi," I manage.

"We called him so he could validate the ceremony and ensure that the last will and testament of Katherine Monroe will be upheld to the letter," Reed chimes in. His voice trembles ever so slightly. He's nervous.

"It's Christmas Day," I reply.

Archer glances back at his brother before he closes the distance between us and takes my hands in his. His touch alone is enough to soothe me, to fill me with a familiar, golden, warm light of love and reassurance. The days that I've been away from them have been awful. I've missed them so much.

"Listen, Dakota, we had two options here," Archer says. "We could've let the term expire and call it quits on the inheritance, or we could've given it one last shot. In the former case, we would've then stepped in to cover your financial woes, and while that would've solved some major issues, it would've stripped you of certain feelings of pride and self-sufficiency."

"I… Archer…"

"No, no, hear us out," he says. "We love you, Dakota. My brothers and I, we're head over heels for you. Ride or die. The whole nine yards. Whatever you want to call it. It's true love. The truest we've ever felt."

I look around, utterly astonished.

"Mommy's getting married?" Maisie gasps, holding on to Chelsea like a sleepy monkey.

"Let's hope so," Chelsea replies, then gives me an apologetic smile. "I know you've been through the wringer enough times already, Dakota. I'm hoping you'll stick around for the grand finale, though. Babe, this is it. Your last chance at the most unexpected and most wonderful sort of happy ending."

"Mr. Rawlings?" I say, shifting my focus to the Monroe family lawyer.

He smiles gently. "Mr. Faulkner here," he says, nodding at Reed, "called last night and insisted that I make myself available this morning. I have nothing but respect for their determination to make this happen. Besides, I'm just doing my duty. It's what I'm generously paid to do."

"I would've thought you'd be on Team Callie," I reply.

He shakes his head. "Ms. Monroe, I'm an impartial representative of the law. And while the will's terms and conditions may have seemed far-fetched, I dare not blame the late Mrs. Monroe for insisting upon them, regardless of how daunting it might've been."

"I also assumed you'd frown upon our lifestyle and relationship," I mutter.

He shakes his head again. "Not for me to judge. As far as the law is concerned, you and Archer Faulkner are entering willingly into legal matrimony. And attorney-client privilege is still a thing, might I remind you."

"I'm your client?"

"You're a Monroe. Of course, you are."

I give Archer, Reed, and Maddox a wide-eyed look. "Is this real?"

"For another sixteen hours or so, yes," Archer replies. "We're within the will's deadline. So, what do you say, Dakota? Want to try getting married again?"

I set my sights on the lady in the purple and gold robe.

"You're going to officiate the ceremony?" I ask.

"Marjorie Stephens," she replies. "At your service. Ordained and licensed in the state of California."

Maddox whips out a marriage certificate. "All you and Archer have to do is sign this after you say your vows."

Archer comes closer, cupping my face in his hands. "Dakota, this is it. If you don't want to do this, we've come prepared with our checkbooks and will still take care of things for you. And I know you need to go about things your own way, but I love you. Reed and Maddox love you. You can't deny that you feel the same."

"I do feel the same," I mutter, tears pricking my eyes. "But there's something you guys should know before we—"

"You're pregnant; we're already aware," Reed cuts in. "We'll address that later, but just so we're clear, we are all on board."

"All the way," Maddox adds, a smile dancing across his face.

And just like that, I find myself looking up at Archer, suddenly able to breathe easier. The troubles and the tension of the past few months begin to dissipate, drizzling out of me like an unsavory mist. My muscles relax. I feel lighter. And my heart beats in a playful flutter as it becomes obvious that I am, in fact, going to get my eighty million dollars after all.

"What about Callie?" I ask, glancing back at Rawlings.

He offers an amused shrug. "She'll have no choice but to accept the situation for what it is. Truth be told, I wouldn't have trusted her with that much money. Your grandmother may have been a difficult woman, but she was anything but foolish. Callie would've blown through the entire inheritance in less than a year."

"All right, so what do you say, Dakota?" Archer asks, his hands resting on my shoulders. "Are we going to do this or what?"

"I… yes. Gosh, I don't even have a wedding dress," I reply as I look down at myself, my cheeks burning with a mixture of excitement and raw nerves.

"It doesn't matter. You're stunning just the way you are," Archer says with a loving smile.

"Well, in that case, come on, Mr. Faulkner. I can't wait to become Mrs. Faulkner," I say to my future husband and his brothers, too.