29
Life moves fast after that.
We make our relationship town-official, and somehow, no one bats an eye. It’s like everyone else had already written our story, like we were the last ones to catch on.
We work on the house together, turning it into a home while I grow round with our baby boy. We argue over tile samples, dance barefoot in the kitchen, and fall asleep tangled in each other every night, wrapped in love and limbs and laughter.
We plan the wedding.
And we make love like the world might end tomorrow.
We love each other so fiercely, so fully, that sometimes it feels like we’re bursting at the seams. Like our hearts are too full for our bodies to hold.
And then it’s here.
The day.
Charlie’s in the bridal suite with me, gently bouncing baby Cherry against her shoulder. Outside, I can hear the low rumble of voices, the hum of music being tested over speakers, the wind brushing through the trees like it's blessing the day. Sam Jr. is off with the groomsmen, probably sleeping on Sam right now.
Charlie turns to me, eyes warm. “You look stunning, Phern.”
I smile, smoothing my hands over the soft, flowy fabric of my dress. It’s not traditional—no white lace or corseted waist—but it’s me. It hugs my very round belly and flows like water down to my ankles. I feel like a goddess and a storm and a love story all at once.
Still, I wince. Another contraction rolls through me, low and tight and sharp enough to steal my breath.
I don't say anything.
If Will knew, he’d toss me over his shoulder and drive straight to the hospital—suit and all, ceremony be damned.
But I need this moment.Weneed this moment.
So I breathe through it, smile through it, and let the joy of this day anchor me. Because in just a little while, I’ll walk toward the man I love. And maybe I’ll do it while in labor.
The music starts. A soft, slow acoustic version of the song we picked together. One that played the first time he kissed me like he meant it.
Charlie hugs me. “Ready to go meet your forever?”
I nod, though another contraction tightens around my middle like a vise. I grit my teeth and wait for it to pass. Only a few people notice. Charlie’s sharp eyes, and maybe Tish who glances my way like she’s silently timing them.
But then the doors open.
And there he is.
Will stands at the end of the aisle, broad shoulders straight, dark suit hugging his frame, hands clasped tightly in front of him like he might come unhinged if he doesn’t hold it together.
The second he sees me, his whole face changes.
Like the breath’s been punched out of him.
Like he’s never seen anything more beautiful than his very pregnant bride walking toward him, barefoot and glowing.
Each step I take feels heavier. Sharper. But I focus on him. On his eyes. On everything waiting for me at the end of that aisle.
When I reach him, he leans in and brushes a kiss to my cheek. “You okay?”
“Ask me again in twenty minutes,” I whisper, managing a smile.
His brow furrows. “Are you having contractions?”
