Jace grabs the bag like it contains gold and bolts down the hallway.
Gabe steps closer, lowering his voice. "You okay?"
I nod, but my eyes sting anyway. "I'm okay. I'm just… it's a lot."
He reaches out like he's going to touch my cheek, then stops himself, because we agreed. No soft cheating before the ceremony.
So he lowers his hand and does something even worse.
He smiles.
"I'll be there," he murmurs. "All day. You don't have to manage everyone. You don't have to carry the mood. You don't have to smile at anyone you don't want to."
I give him a look. "Are you telling me I can be rude on my wedding day?"
"I'm telling you it's your wedding day," he says, with that crooked little grin that makes my heart skip a beat. "If anyone has a problem, they can talk to me."
Jace runs back in with a donut in his hand and powdered sugar on his chin already. "Mom, can I have two?"
I lift a brow. "No."
Gabe says, "Maybe…"
I turn to him slowly. "Don't start."
He shrugs, innocent. "It's a special day."
Jace grins like he just won. I'm about to argue when another car pulls up outside. I look through the window and see my dad step out.
A year ago, that would've pulled something tight in my chest. The old part of me would've braced for criticism before he even opened his mouth. I would've watched his eyes to see where they landed, and I would've tried to get ahead of the judgment.
Today, I just breathe and open the door.
He walks up the path with a small box in his hand and a stiff posture that tells me he's still learning how to do this. He stops on the porch and looks at Gabe first.
The first time my dad saw Gabe in my living room, he looked like his brain couldn't find the right file to open. He wasn't angry at first. He was confused. Then he got angry because confusion is not something my father used to tolerate.
Now he just nods at Gabe.
"Morning," Dad says.
"Morning to you too," Gabe replies. In the last few months, these two men have rebuilt part of their relationship. Since getting to know Gabe is actually Jace's dad, my father has reconciled with the idea of us in some ways, not so much in some others. It's better than nothing, though.
Dad looks at me next. His eyes soften a little, and that still surprises me. "You ready?"
I shrug. "No. Yes. I don't know."
He gives a short laugh. "That's normal."
I stare at him because I'm still not used to hearing him call anything I do normal.
He clears his throat and holds out the box. "I brought something."
I take it carefully and open it. Inside is a thin gold bracelet with a small charm, nothing flashy. Simple. It's something I can wear every day without feeling like I'm putting on a costume.
"I saw it and thought of you," he says.
There are a lot of things my dad has never said out loud, and I don't expect him to become a new man overnight. But he's been trying. He's been showing up. He's apologized, more than once, and the first time he did it, he looked like it physically hurt.
