Stan leans in one last time and whispers, “Hey, Ocean Eyes. I’m real happy right now.”
My throat tightens. Tears brim my view of his growing grin. “Me too, Stan,” I whisper back.
And when the clerk asks for our vows, when the words start stacking into something binding and real, I don’t think about what we couldn’t do or what has to wait.
I think about this moment. About how love doesn’t need more than beige walls in a boring room where it smells like old paper and stale coffee.
All we need is the right people around us.
Because after everything—after fire and numbness—this is where I ended up. And I know it’s exactly where I want to be.
***
The back gardens of the Knights estate are absurd in the only way I think rich people with long-term plans can manage. The space stretches wide and open, that I expect someone to start handing out maps for a boring tour and buried treasure.
For the reception, three buffet tables form an open square near the center, packed with food and spaced apart that nobody has to awkwardly hover to get to the good stuff, even though Stan’s hoggingwhere the spit-roasted pig is laid out in the center table.
We got lucky with the weather. It’s an early spring this year, so garden beds run along the paths, overflowing with colorful flowers. The trees are still young, recently planted with their thin trunks and slim branches, but they’re placed like they’re meant to grow old here. Elle said she planted them there on purpose, imagining the shade they’ll cast years from now, knowing it was worth the wait.
People arrive in waves. Families first, then friends, then groups I recognize from photos and conversations. Community members Elle works with. Students Em has mentored. People who have stood in hospital hallways, classrooms, and labs, and decided to show up here too.
Some look unsure at first. Between Em and Stan, they fix it just by being them. Stan smiles and talks, charming them. Em listens and asks questions to get them to open up. Soon enough, everyone looks relaxed.
At some point, Stan stops dead. “Oh no,” he mutters.
I follow his line of sight.
On the far end making a dramatic entrance are the two Yakuza twins I’ve heard all about, with their signature necklace chains of cut-off fingers.
“Whoin the hell,” Stan asks, eyes widening, “invitedthem?”
He kisses both me and Em quickly before running for his life toward the bounce house he rented.
Yep, a bounce house that Kayla couldn’t say no to because it’s Stan’s big day. It’s mine too, but I don’t enjoy the fanfare as much as he does, so he can have all the fun he wants. I have my own plan for that later.
Seconds afterwards, I hear him yell that adults can be in bounce houses too. “Don’t be ageist, jerk!” he screams at a poor soul my sister runs to comfort.
Well, I hope it’s the kid she’s gonna comfort, and not Stan, but knowing those two, who knows?
I’m about to turn to speak to Em, when Kayla stomps up to me with a frown.
“Uh, hi, Kayla,” I say, unsure why she looks upset.
“So it’s true!” she shouts, jabbing a finger at me.
I lean back, almost stumbling. “Sorry?”
She shakes her head. “Don’t apologize when you don’t know what you should definitely be sorry about!”
Blinking and baffled, I raise my palms and ask, “I have no idea what you’re talking about, Kayla.”
“Ooh,” she seethes, squinting her eyes at me. “There you go again. Saying my government first name as if I’m not your sister’s bestest friend in the entire universe?!”
I lift a brow, while Em watches. Her big brown eyes are taking the scene in. Guess it’s entertaining to her, so I bear with it.
“Okay, copy, Kayla—” I stop myself, flinching when she looks like she’s about to throw a punch at me. “Kaye! I meant Kaye.”
She eases back, smiling a bit bitterly but looking satisfied. “Good. Glad that’s settled.” After flipping her curls over her shoulders, she smirks. “Congratulations on the wedding, by the way. Dae and I got you new guns to play with. Hehatedbuying them, but Ilovethem! Let’s try them out at a range someday!”
