"We've been married for three hours," I said.
"I'm not getting any younger, Maya."
During the bouquet toss, I aimed directly at Millie and didn't pretend otherwise.
She caught it, laughing, face turning red as everyone cheered. Beside her, a boy I didn't recognize went pink to the tips of his ears. Tall, a little gangly, with kind eyes and the nervous energy of someone who desperately wanted to make a good impression.
Later, Millie found me at the edge of the dance floor, the boy hovering a few feet away like he wasn't sure if he was allowed to follow.
"Maya. This is Eli."
The boy from her calc class. The one who remembered her coffee order. The one who walked her to her car when it was dark.
"Nice to meet you, Eli." I shook his hand. He had a good handshake, firm but not aggressive. "Millie's told me about you," I said.
"She has?" He looked at Millie with something like wonder. "Good things, I hope?"
"Only good things."
Millie rolled her eyes, but she was smiling. "Don't embarrass me."
"I would never."
The music shifted to something slow, and Eli glanced toward the dance floor, then back at Millie with a question in his eyes. She nodded, and he offered her his hand.
"We'll be back," Millie said, already letting him lead her away.
I watched them go, my chest full of something I couldn't quite name.
Zoe found me before the first dance, pressing something into my hand.
"I made this," she said, not quite meeting my eyes. "It's dumb. You don't have to read it now."
It was a folded piece of paper. Lined, torn from a notebook. I recognized her handwriting immediately—the same loopy letters I'd watched evolve from crayons.
Mom—
I know I don't say it enough. I know I roll my eyes and act like you're embarrassing and pretend I don't need you.
But you're the reason I know what it looks like when someone doesn't give up. You're the reason I believe people can be good. You're the reason I'm not afraid to want things.
Thank you for choosing me. Every single day. Even when it was hard. Even when I made it harder.
I love you. I'm glad Shane found us.
—Zoe
I read it twice. Three times. Pressed it to my chest.
Shane found me crying in the corner, away from the music and the laughter and the life we were building together.
"Hey." His hand on my back, warm and steady. "What's wrong?"
I showed him the letter.
He read it. His face shifted into something soft and proud and tender all at once. He pulled me close.
"She's right, you know," he said against my hair. "About all of it."
