“I’m ready now, Katie.”
The pills drop into the bin with a soft thud.
And before I can even process the thrill and terror and wild joy of it, he’s kissing me again, carrying me toward the bedroom as the world outside fades to nothing but our heartbeats and promises.
Chapter fifty-nine
Cam
Two Months Later
September sunlight washes over our backyard, warm but not unbearable, making it the perfect day to marry the love of my life. I stand on the back porch watching people fill the yard—neighbors, friends, half the damn town—even a couple of Kate’s regular library patrons who seem way too thrilled to be here. Purple and white fabric hangs from the fence posts, matching the wildflower arrangements Kate insisted on. And by insisted, I mean she showed me twelve Pinterest boards and I pretended to have opinions until she smiled and said, “Fine, we’ll do it my way.”
I let her run wild with it. The flowers. The lights. The tiered cake with real lavender woven along the edges. The lace runner for the main table that she found at an antique store, saying that it “felt magical.” Hell, even the wooden sign at the entrance, painted by Haddie Carmichael herself.
Speaking of Haddie…
She wades through the backyard like she’s the official event photographer, chunky camera around her neck, lenses bouncing off her sequined purple dress. Every five minutes, she stops someone to say, “Hold still—this’ll look great on the community page!” I’ve already accepted we have zero control over what ends up online tonight.
Brynn sends Knox out to let us know we’re ready to begin and everyone takes their seats. I head to the makeshift alter, Knox at my side, trying to calm my pulse. I look down the aisle—technically, it’s just the stretch of grass between the deck and the oak tree, but it’s perfect. White chairs. Purple ribbons.
Brynn and Kinsey walk down the aisle, followed by Little Miss Evie—our “Official Daughter”—throwing petals. Once her basket is empty, she stands up front in her matching white dress with purple tulle, proudly wearing her star bracelet.
Kate appears in the doorway, and every thought in my head just…stops.
Her dress is simple—flowing white, soft straps, no beads or sequins. Just her. Radiant. Absolutely everything I could ever dream of. Her hair is half-up with a sprig of lavender tucked in the curls in the back. She catches me staring and blushes like she’s not the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.
She stops beside me and smiles. “You ready, Wells?” she teases softly.
“You have no idea, Katie.”
We stand beneath the oak tree, Knox moves to officiating because he insisted he wanted to do “one sentimental thing” after years of pretending he’s allergic to feelings. His voice only cracks once, and Brynn pats his back like she expected as much.
When we say our vows, Evie cries first. Big fat tears roll down her cheeks as she hugs my leg, whispering, You’re my Cam, and I barely keep it together long enough to finish my part. Kate squeezes my hands, eyes shining, and I know—if every road I ever took led me to this backyard, this woman, and that little girl—it was all worth it.
The reception is a blur of music, laughter, and Hattie interviewing guests like she’s covering the royal wedding. I lose track of how many times someone shakes my hand and says, “You landed a good one, Coach,” like I don’t know that every single day.
When it’s time for the toasts, Brynn walks toward us holding two flutes. The liquid inside catches the light, pale and bubbly.
But something’s off. That is not the champagne we picked out together.
“Hey, this isn’t what everyone else was poured,” I whisper to Kate as Brynn hands her a glass. “Why didn’t you tell me you didn’t like the champagne choice? We could’ve swapped it for something else.”
Kate smiles at me—soft, secretive—the kind of smile she gives right before changing my entire damn world.
“It’s not that,” she says, leaning closer.
“What is it, then?”
She lifts her glass slightly. “This is sparkling cider.”
I blink. “Cider? But…why would you—”
She squeezes my hand. Hard.
“Cam,” she whispers, eyes glassing over, “I’m pregnant.”
The ground doesn’t drop.The sky doesn’t explode. Just this quiet, stunning flip in my chest—like something finally landing in the exact place it always belonged.
