There are sticky notes everywhere.
He looks at them.
Then at me.
“Is it too late to elope?”
I grin. “Probably.”
He considers this. “I would have done it in a courthouse. With you. And the baby. And then bought you a very good burger.”
I lean my head on his shoulder. “That actually sounds perfect.”
He kisses my hair. “We can still make it ours. No matter what they try to turn it into.”
“I know,” I say. “That’s why I said yes.”
That night,after Emmy is asleep, we sit in bed with one of the notebooks.
Saint flips through it like it might explode.
“So,” he says carefully. “What do I need to do?”
I smile. “Show up.”
He nods. “I’m very good at that.”
“I know.”
He looks at me for a long moment.
“You sure about me?” he asks quietly.
I close the notebook and take his face in my hands.
“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”
He leans into my touch like he still can’t quite believe he’s allowed to be held.
105
Laney
The day is nothing like I imagined.
It’s better.
There’s no grand cathedral. No towering guest list. No spectacle.
Just a small white chapel near the trees, sunlight pouring through open windows, and the people who carried us here filling the pews.
The Magnolia ladies are crying before anything even starts.
Saint is at the front, holding Emmy in his arms because she absolutely refused to stay with anyone else.
He looks… terrified.
And so in love it almost hurts to see.
