The house was still finding its rhythm again.
Suitcases sat half-unpacked in the walk-in closet, clothes still faintly scented with salt air and sunscreen.
A pair of sandals rested by the door, grains of white sand stubbornly clinging to the soles. The kind of sand that refused to be shaken off, no matter how many times you tried. Ashley liked that. It felt like proof they'd really gone somewhere. Proof it hadn't all been a dream.
A week home after their honeymoon, and she still woke up smiling before she opened her eyes.
The wedding itself had been everything she had dreamt of and more, which included things she hadn't known she wanted.
Small. Intentional. Quietly luxurious.
Just the Blackwoods and the Ashfords. There wasn't any crowd. No spectacle. Certainly no room for anyone who didn't matter.
