Instead, there are only about thirty chairs arranged in neat rows on the grass. Only our closest friends and immediate family. No corporate guests, society photographers, or political networking disguised as celebration.
I stand at the bottom step of the gazebo, my hands clasped loosely in front of me, trying to look calm even though my heart feels like it’s pounding straight through my ribs.
Wilder is standing next to me, and the rest of the guys are sitting in the first few rows of chairs with their women. My parents, siblings, and Sutton’s mother, aunt, uncle, and cousin are among them.
We’re all waiting, the anticipation hanging thick in the air. My eyes are locked on the end of the aisle and I can’t wait to see her.
The music begins, and Millie comes into view, wearing a little white dress and a crown of pink daisies around her head. She walks toward me, scattering petals from her little basket with a dramatic flourish.
When she reaches me, she looks up at me with a sassy arched brow. “I’m going to start charging to be the flower girl. Five dollars.”
I chuckle. “You’re worth every penny.”
Rylee walks down the aisle next, wearing a soft pink dress, one hand braced on her very pregnant belly.
“Fingers crossed this kid waits until the wedding’s over,” she teases, patting her belly as she moves past me and stands opposite me and Wilder.
Suddenly, the music shifts, and Sutton appears.
For a second, the world around me fades away.
She’s gorgeous. Her satin gown seems to glow softly, the ivory material smooth and elegant as it hugs her waist before flowing down in a graceful line to the ground. The neckline is simple but stunning, the delicate straps draped loosely over her shoulders and across her collarbones like ribbons of silk. The fabric shifts with every step she takes.
Behind her, a long train glides over the stone path and onto the grass. Her hair is swept up into an elegant chignon at the back of her head, soft strands curling loose around her face and the nape of her neck, her teal and purple on full display. A few brighter streaks catch the sun as she moves, and the color makes her eyes look even more vivid from where I’m standing.
Her dad is beside her, and the two begin making their way down the aisle toward me. Her eyes lock onto mine the moment she starts down the aisle, and they never leave. She’s glowing with love, excitement, and just the tiniest hint of nerves.
Holy shit, I can’t believe this is really happening. I’m about to marry the most incredible woman I’ve ever known. This day was never supposed to come…it was never supposed to be real.
But it is. This is real, and she’s going to be my wife.
When Sutton reaches me, her dad shakes my hand and hugs her before turning to join his wife in the crowd. I offer Sutton my arm and we turn to the justice of the peace, who is standing on the gazebo steps.
“You okay?” I whisper as the man starts to speak.
Sutton nods, eyes shining, lips curled in a bright smile. “I’ve never been better.”
The ceremony is simple. We vow to love and cherish each other. To always be there for each other and support each other. We promise our lives to each other, and I’ve never been more certain of keeping a promise before.
We both say I do, and when we kiss, the garden erupts with applause.
“You’re my wife,” I murmur against Sutton’s lips. “Mine. Forever.”
“You’re my husband,” she whispers back with a grin. “And you better believe it’s forever.”
I laugh and take her hand. Turning, we hurry back down the aisle, eager to start our happily-ever-after right this second.
That evening, the garden feels like an entirely different world.
Where the ceremony earlier had been bathed in warm afternoon sunlight, now the space glows softly beneath the night sky. Hundreds of tiny string lights hang from the branches of the towering oak trees overhead, draped from limb to limb. They sway gently in the evening breeze, casting a warm golden shimmer over the entire garden.
Lanterns line the stone paths that wind between the flower beds, their candlelight flickering against the petals of roses and hydrangeas. Round reception tables have been arranged across the lawn where the chairs once sat during the ceremony. Each table is covered in soft ivory linens and surrounded bymismatched wooden chairs that make the whole setup feel relaxed and intimate rather than overly formal.
At the center of every table sits a cluster of candles in glass holders, their flames dancing and reflecting off the glass like tiny sparks of amber light. The glow spills outward onto the surrounding greenery, making the leaves of the garden plants shine deep shades of emerald and gold.
Soft music drifts through hidden speakers somewhere in the trees.
The scent of fresh flowers still lingers in the warm night air, now mixed with the smell of dinner, champagne, and lemon cake specially ordered from Molly’s Patisserie.
