She yelps and spins wide-eyed, then rolls them laughing.
As we approach the gate, from somewhere past the hedges, the violin picks up again.
“It’s time,” she says.
And I step after her into the wedding chaos, no longer afraid she’ll go where I can’t follow.
Under the hydrangea arch, Carter is compulsively tugging at the cuffs of his shirt, glancing over his shoulder every two seconds.
“You’re supposed to wait for the music,” I tease.
He readjusts his cufflinks for what must be the hundredth time and shoots me a pointed look. “Oh, I can’t wait foryouto stand in my place one day.”
There was no big talk about my relationship with his sister. No grand speech. No fist-throwing or awkward tension. Just us arriving at their Thanksgiving dinner, holding hands and grinning like two teens.
I’ll take his words as the official stamp of approval. Not that it would stop us either way, but it means a lot.
The first note of the quartet breaks through the murmurs of the families and friends sitting on both sides of the aisle, and everyone holds their breath. Only the lulling melody and the sound of lake water lapping the shore accompany Jackie as she steps first into the warm light of the late June sun. She gives me a wink before taking her place on the other side.
Then Quinn glides down the flower-lined grass, chin held high and a little smirk gracing her features.
When Eliza finally appears, Carter freezes next to me.
Sam’s mustache twitches as he walks beside her, clearly trying to hold it together. She’s radiant, wearing the biggest smile, practically floating.
I swear, Carter doesn’t breathe the entire time it takes Sam to give her a hug and a few whispered words. When Eliza steps in front of him, he clasps her hands and stares at her with a dazed look, like he can’t believe his luck.
His vows put a knot in my throat, while Eliza’s bring tears of laughter to everyone present.
My focus drifts instinctively to Jackie. She sits behind the bride, across the flower arch, clutching the bouquet to her chest, wrapped in their moment with unguarded joy.
“You could at least pretend to pay attention,” Logan says through clenched teeth, keeping his smile fixed. This man is actually scary sometimes.
A long kiss seals the ceremony. The guests erupt in applause and hollers, showering them with rice and flower petals.
As the sun dips lower, the music from the tent grows louder, and after hugs and well-wishes, we all follow the sound.
Inside the tent, the newlyweds have their first dance, champagne starts flowing, and the dance floor fills.
I never lose sight of Jackie. She moves effortlessly from the band to the caterer, and stops for a few words with the photographer. When she laughs, the yellow diamond on her necklace catches the string lights. Like a beacon in the festive chaos. Always guiding me to her.
These past months have been hectic, to put it mildly. Being thrown back into our busy lives was one thing. Untangling the loose ends was another.
Now, when we walk into events together, I feel lighter. Because there are no more threats lurking in the background. Because I know, without a doubt, that she loves me and doesn’t regret choosing me. The fact that Robertson and Clara quietly used their weight on all the charity boards in the city to ban Blanca for the next couple of years was not a bad perk. At all.
As for Michelle, I kept my end of the deal and used my connections to secure her the best plea agreement possible. And Jackie, to everyone’s shock, included Michelle’s brother in the experimental trials for the Neural Interface.
Michelle made the same mistake I once made. She just assumed. Didn’t trust Jackie with the core of who she is.
A good person.
Most of the wedding guests are their friends from Silver Lake Falls. I spot Sheriff Walker in a corner by Quinn’s side. I didn’t think they made a suit in his size. He’s looking painfully out of place. Still, he sits next to her as she’s talking to Sam, dabbing her eyes.
When a slow song starts, I have only one direction in mind.
Two steps across the floor, and I’m nearly taken out by Carter’s uncle’s cohort of sugar-hyped kids, bolting past with suspicious, bulging pockets.
A cool hand wraps around my wrists and tugs me out of harm’s way.
