“With my life,” I promise.
“Good boy.” She pats my face, then shuffles to her seat, dabbing at her eyes.
Dakota steps up beside me. This close, I see the slight tremor in her hands and the way her breath comes a little too fast. Nervous. But not scared. Not running or disappearing.
Staying.
Cameron clears his throat. “We’re gathered here today because the world ended and we didn’t, and that seems like something worth celebrating.”
Scattered laughter ripples through our small group.
“Marriage has always been about choosing someone,” he says. “Choosing to build a life together, even when, especially when, everything’s uncertain. And if that doesn’t describe our current situation, I don’t know what does.”
Dakota’s hand finds mine. I lace our fingers together, thumb brushing across her knuckles.
“Julien and Dakota have been through hell.” Cameron’s eyes meet mine, then shift to her. “Separately and together. They’ve fought zombies, survived losses, and made impossible choices. And through all of it, they chose each other.”
We kept choosing this. Choosing us.
“So today, we’re making it official.” Cameron sets the book aside. “Julien, you want to go first?”
Public speaking has never bothered me. But this? Standing here trying to put into words what Dakota means to me?
That’s terrifying.
I turn to face her fully, both her hands in mine now. “I’m not good at this.”
“Eloquent,” Cole mutters behind me.
Dakota squeezes my hands. “You’re doing well.”
“I haven’t started yet.”
“Exactly.” Her mouth twitches. “Low bar.”
Sienna snorts behind her.
I take a breath. “You were supposed to marry my brother. I was supposed to walk away. Keep my distance.”
Her thumb traces circles on my wrist.
“But I couldn’t,” I say. “I can’t promise you safety. Can’t promise tomorrow, or next week, or any of the shit people used to promise at weddings.” I force myself to meet her eyes. “ButI can promise I’ll fight like hell to keep us alive. Both of us. I’ll choose you every time. I’ll watch your back, and you’ll watch mine. I can promise that I love you. More than I thought I was capable of loving anyone.”
Her eyes glisten.
“And when you disappear into your head, I’ll pull you back.” I bring her knuckles to my lips. “Every time. For as long as we’ve got.”
She blinks rapidly, a single tear escaping to track down her cheek. I release one hand to brush it away with my thumb.
“Your turn,” I whisper.
She nods, taking a shaky breath before speaking. “I spent my whole life being what everyone else needed me to be. Then you showed up.” She squeezes my hands tighter. “You made me feel like wanting things wasn’t selfish. Like taking up space wasn’t a crime. Like I deserved to be someone’s first choice.”
My chest aches. Good pain. The kind that comes from something expanding instead of breaking.
“I can’t promise I won’t disappear sometimes.” Her voice drops lower, more intimate, like we’re the only two people here. “Can’t promise I’ll always be brave or that I won’t still struggle with choosing myself. But I promise I’ll keep trying. I’ll keep showing up, keep choosing you, keep fighting for this life we’re building together because you’re my home. And I never had that before.”
My throat’s too tight to speak. To hell with protocol or ceremony structure. I need to touch her. I bring her closer, resting my forehead against hers.
