It’s a whole beautiful disaster out here.
Today isn’t just another coastal wedding with top notch seafood and an open bar. It’s the day two of the most gloriously broken, stubborn, perfect-for-each-other idiots I know make it official.
Imogene says it’s time and we make our way down the aisle, taking our places on our respective sides.
Laurel is seated at the front, next to Nolan’s father and his caretaker.
For a second, I catch a glimpse of Rorie’s parents’s photograph tucked into the flowers at the end of the front row, right by a picture of Nolan’s mom.
His dad sits stiffly, his hands folded tight in his lap, but he’s here. He showed up. And somehow, even with all the cracks, all the history, it feels like both of them are finally getting the kind of beginning they always deserved.
With family behind them.
With love all around them.
Right where it matters most.
The music shifts.
The crowd turns.
And there she is.
Rorie—barefoot, radiant, with that same “I dare you to survive me” energy she’s always carried—floating down the aisle as though the entire ocean decided to part just to let her pass.
Nolan looks like he just forgot how breathing works. He’s locked on her like gravity stopped existing and she’s the only thing holding him to the earth.
I feel something tighten in my chest, sharp and stupid and full of far too many feelings.
Damn them.
Damn this day.
Damn howrightthey look.
They meet at the altar, laughter catching in their throats, hands fumbling together like they can’t stand the space between them for even a second longer. And suddenly it’s not a wedding anymore.
It’s a homecoming.
A battle won.
A lighthouse found in the middle of a storm.
The officiant talks about love being messy. About how real love isn’t the absence of cracks. It’s the hands that hold you steady anyway.
Nolan pulls out the compass—the one he gave her when he proposed—and presses it into her palm. I almost lose my shit right there.
An anchor.
A vow.
And when they kiss, wild and soft and a little desperate, survivors finally,finallyreaching the shore, the whole beach erupts.
Maya whoops. Asher mutters something under his breath like “about damn time”” and Tammy elbows him so hard he stumbles.
Emily dabs at her eyes and Rishi launches into a victory dance so aggressive he nearly takes out the front row.
But I just stand there, hands jammed in my pockets, grinning like a fool. Because somehow, after all their wreckage, all the wrong turns, all the scars—these two found their way back to each other.
