She actually was, and the look on her face makes teasing her worth it.
“You’re smart. You’re stubborn. You talk with your hands and somehow never finish a full cup of coffee,” I go on. “Every time I think I’ve seen the best of you, you do something else that makes me fall harder. You take up space, Annabelle, in my heart, in my life, in my freaking bathroom with your billion hair products—and I wouldn’t change any of it.”
Her eyes are watery now, and mine are too.
“I want all of it. The chaos, the mornings you’re grumpy, the weird pregnancy cravings, the moments when you doubt everything—because I’ll be there for every single one. As your husband. Your best friend. And your backup. We’ll figure it out together. With the help of our friends and family.”
Our friends are all nodding along. And now it’s her turn to say something.
Annabelle takes a breath. Then another. And finally lifts her chin with that familiar stubborn tilt I’ve grown to love.
“When we woke up after our crashing the actual wedding—thanks, Pastor Dan,” she says, “I had two thoughts. One: Who drinks that much? And two:What have I done?”
Another wave of laughter ripples through the crowd.
“And somehow, the way you held my hand like it was no big deal and it wasn’t the dumbest thing we’ve done—like we were already a ‘we’—I realized this might be the best mistake of our lives.”
She pauses, then corrects herself. “No. Not a mistake. A surprise. A reckless, drink-fueled surprise that turned into the safest, most solid thing I’ve ever had.” She blushes, ducking her head. I blink furiously.
I’m not crying—you are!
“I love you, Maverick,” she says, voice trembling. “I love that you’re patient when I’m panicked. You said you’d be my backup, and I want to be that for you too. I want to be your partner.” She steps even closer, squeezing my hands. “I’m your backup. Your safe place. Your teammate.”
Laughter bubbles from the small crowd, but she doesn’t take her eyes off me.
“I’ll be there for the big things and the little ones too. Like your ice pack after a game. Or pretending to be mad when you don’t change the roll of toilet paper.”
Her chin wobbles as her voice softens. “I don’t know what’s coming next, but I know one thing—I want all of it. With you.”
I’m openly crying now.
A sniffle escapes someone in the room—Lucy or maybe Harris—and I swear the whole courtyard is one sob away from breaking down.
Pastor Dan clears his throat, voice thick with emotion as he flips through his very official-looking notes ... that were written on the back of an airplane safety brochure.
“Ugh,” he says, sniffling. “That was beautiful.” Inhale. Exhale. Dan spreads his arms wide. “Do you, Callum Brody McBride, take ...” He checks his notes. “Annabelle Farris Franklin to be your wedded wife?”
There’s a massive lump in my throat when I say, “I do.”
“And do you, Annabelle Farris Franklin, take Callum Brody McBride to be your wedded hubby?”
She nods, whispering, “I do.”
“Then by the powers vested in me by the great state of absolutely nowhere—and with the blessings of your very enthusiastic and emotional friends”—he grins at Harris, who gives a dramatic bow—“I pronounce you husband and wife. For real this time. With paperwork.”
He pauses for effect, lifting an eyebrow. “You may seal the deal with a kiss and make it official.”
I don’t wait.
The second Pastor Dan gives me the green light, I’ve got my hands on her face and my mouth on hers. She tastes like tears and lip gloss and every dream I never let myself have until now.
When we finally come up for air, she’s got a smile so big I’m not sure how her face can contain it, and hell if I’m not matching it. My chest feels like it’s about to burst wide open.
Pastor Dan clears his throat, wiping at his eyes with what looks suspiciously like a napkin from the bar. “Okay, someone hand me the contracts before I ruin what’s left of my dignity and never get invited to another wedding again.”
The county clerk steps up, handing me a folder and a pen that looks way too expensive for something that’s about to be scribbled on by a guy with sweaty palms. It almost slips through my fingers.
This is it.
