Chapter 19
The wedding planning started three days after the Morrison family dinner.
Izzy wanted something small. Alex agreed. Then Maria got involved.
"Small?" Maria clutched her chest dramatically. "My only daughter's wedding and you want *small*?"
They were sitting in Alex's apartment, surrounded by bridal magazines that had mysteriously appeared overnight.
"Mom, we're thinking fifty people maximum. Just family and close friends."
"I have forty-seven cousins."
"Exactly my point."
Alex diplomatically intervened. "Mrs. Morrison, what if we compromised? A hundred guests, but we keep it intimate. Garden ceremony, small reception."
Maria's eyes lit up. "The Plaza has beautiful gardens."
"Mom, we're not getting married at The Plaza."
"Why not? Alex can afford it."
"That's not the point....."
"Actually," Alex said slowly, "the foundation's estate in Westchester has gardens. Lila designed them. We could get married there."
The room went silent.
Izzy stared at him. "Are you sure?"
"It's time. Lila would want the space used for happy occasions, not kept as a shrine." He took Izzy's hand. "Besides, I want to marry you somewhere beautiful. Somewhere that means something."
Maria teared up. "That's lovely, Alex."
"Don't encourage him," Izzy muttered. "Next thing you know, we'll have ice sculptures and a string quartet."
"What's wrong with a string quartet?" Maria asked.
"I'm doomed," Izzy said.
Sophie arrived with coffee and sanity. "I've drafted three wedding timelines. Option one: six months of planning, traditional ceremony. Option two: three months, scaled down but elegant. Option three: courthouse next Tuesday, party later."
"Option three," Izzy said immediately.
"Option one," Maria said at the same time.
They looked at each other.
"Compromise?" Sophie suggested. "Four months. Garden ceremony at the estate. Reception in the main hall. A hundred guests, professional but personal."
"Four months isn't enough time..." Maria started.
"It's plenty," Sophie said. "I planned the gala in six weeks. I can plan a wedding in sixteen."
Alex's phone rang. Julian's name flashed on the screen.
"I should take this," Alex said, stepping onto the balcony.
Through the glass, Izzy watched his expression shift from casual to concerned.
He came back inside. "Julian's sponsor died. Heart attack. He's asking if he can stay here for a few days."
"Of course," Izzy said immediately. "He doesn't need to ask."
"He's struggling. The sponsor was the only person from his AA meetings who knew about Lila, about our family history. Losing him..."
"Bring him here. We'll figure it out."
An hour later, Julian arrived with a duffel bag and shadows under his eyes.
"Thanks for this," he said.
"You're family," Izzy said. "You stay as long as you need."
Julian managed a weak smile. "You sound like Maria Morrison."
"I'm taking that as a compliment."
Over the next few days, Julian became part of their routine. He attended AA meetings in the morning, helped at the foundation in the afternoon, and spent evenings watching terrible reality TV with Izzy while Alex worked late.
"You're good for him," Julian said one night, during a particularly dramatic episode of a dating show.
"Who, Alex?"
"Yeah. He's different. Present. Like he finally woke up from a two-year coma."
"He did that himself."
"With your help." Julian muted the TV. "Can I ask you something?"
"Sure."
"Does it bother you? That part of him will always love Lila?"
Izzy considered the question. "No. Because loving Lila doesn't mean he loves me less. There's room for both."
"Not everyone would see it that way."
"I'm not everyone." She smiled. "Besides, Lila sounds like she was amazing. I'd be worried if he didn't still love her."
Julian's eyes glistened. "She was. Stubborn and brilliant and so damn fragile. I used to think Alex didn't appreciate her enough. Now I think neither of us did."
"You were using," Izzy said gently. "Hard to appreciate anyone when you're fighting addiction."
"I've been sober eight months and I still feel like I'm fighting it every day."
"That's what your sponsor said, right? One day at a time?"
"Yeah." Julian's voice cracked. "I don't know how to do this without him."
"You find a new sponsor. You keep going to meetings. You let people help you."
"Like you're helping Alex?"
"Like we're helping each other."
Alex came home at midnight, found them still watching TV.
"Wedding planning emergency," he announced. "Your mother called. Twice. Something about chair covers."
Izzy groaned. "Please tell me you didn't engage."
"I told her whatever she wanted was fine."
"Alex! Now we're going to have five hundred chair covers in seventeen different colors."
"Is that bad?"
"It's a disaster."
Julian laughed—actually laughed—and Izzy realized it was the first genuine sound of joy she'd heard from him since his sponsor died.
"You two are ridiculous," Julian said.
"We're aware," Alex said, sitting beside Izzy. "But we're committed to it."
---
Two weeks later, Nathan Hale's trial began.
Unlike Vivienne, Nathan fought every charge. His lawyer argued entrapment, falsified evidence, and conspiracy.
The prosecution called Martin Cross to testify.
Cross took the stand looking ten years older than at the hearing. He walked through every document Nathan had asked him to forge, every lie he'd been told to support.
"Why did you agree?" the prosecutor asked.
"Because I was afraid. Nathan made it clear that if I didn't help him, he'd destroy my career. I chose self-preservation over integrity." Cross looked at the jury. "I regret that every day."
Nathan's lawyer tried to discredit him, but Cross had saved everything. Emails, recorded phone calls, and even a handwritten note from Nathan outlining their strategy.
The jury deliberated for four hours.
Guilty on all counts.
Sentencing was set for three weeks later. Nathan faced up to seven years in federal prison.
Alex attended the verdict reading but left immediately after. Izzy found him in the car, staring at nothing.
"You okay?" she asked.
"Nathan and I started at the foundation the same year. We weren't friends, but we worked together for a decade. I keep thinking about how it got to this point."
"He made his choices."
"So did I. I trusted the wrong people. Ignored warning signs. Let the foundation become more important than the relationships that kept it running."
"You're fixing that now."
"Am I? Or am I just replacing one obsession with another?" He turned to her. "What if I do the same thing to you that I did to Lila? Get so consumed by work that I forget to actually be present?"
"Then I'll call you on it. That's what partners do."
"Lila tried. I didn't listen."
"I'm louder than Lila," Izzy said. "And more obnoxious. You won't be able to ignore me."
Despite everything, Alex smiled. "That's true."
"Also, I have your mother on speed dial now. Maria Morrison is a powerful ally."
"You wouldn't."
"Try me."
He pulled her close. "I don't deserve you."
"Probably not. But you're stuck with me anyway."
The wedding invitations went out six weeks before the ceremony.
Simple, elegant, designed by Sophie. Cream cardstock with forest green lettering.
*Isabella Morrison and Alexander Blackwood request the pleasure of your company...*
Izzy held one, still unable to believe this was real.
"Having doubts?" Sophie asked.
"No. Just disbelief. Six months ago I was unemployed and dodging bill collectors. Now I'm marrying a billionaire and planning a wedding at an estate."
"Cinderella story."
"More like a business contract that went sideways."
"The best love stories usually do."
Responses started coming back within days. Acceptances from friends, family, and foundation board members. A polite decline from Martin Cross with a note: *I hope you understand. I don't feel I've earned the right to celebrate with you yet. Congratulations to you both.*
Alex called him anyway. "Come to the wedding, Martin."
"Mr. Blackwood....."
"Alex. And I mean it. You testified against Nathan when it mattered. You're trying to make amends. That deserves recognition."
"I don't need recognition. I need to live with what I did."
"Then live with it surrounded by people who believe you can be better. Isn't that what redemption is?"
Silence on the line.
"I'll think about it," Martin said finally.
Three days later, his acceptance card arrived.
Julian's new sponsor was a woman named Patricia, sixty-three, sober for twenty-five years, with a voice like sandpaper and zero tolerance for excuses.
"You're wallowing," she told Julian during their first meeting, which happened in Alex's living room because Julian was too anxious to meet somewhere new.
"My sponsor died."
"People die. You stay sober anyway."
"That's cold."
"That's reality. You want sympathy, call your mother. You want sobriety, do the work."
Izzy liked her immediately.
Julian was less certain. "She's terrifying."
"She's exactly what you need," Izzy said.
"How would you know?"
"Because she reminds me of my dad. Tough love works on Blackwood men."
Julian couldn't argue with that.
Over the following weeks, Patricia showed up every other day. Sometimes they talked. Sometimes they just sat in silence. Once, she dragged Julian to a meeting across town because his regular one felt "too comfortable."
"Comfort is the enemy of growth," she told him.
Alex watched his brother slowly come back to life. Saw him laugh more, sleep better, and actually eat full meals instead of picking at food.
"Thank you," he told Izzy one night. "For letting him stay. For helping him."
"He's family. That's what family does."
"My family wasn't always good at that."
"Then it's time to change the pattern."
Alex kissed her. "Have I mentioned I love you?"
"Not in the last three hours."
"Unacceptable. I love you, Izzy Morrison."
"I love you too, Alex Blackwood. Even when you're being dramatic about wedding chair covers."
"Your mother started that."
"And you encouraged it."
"Fair point."