I’ll never stop. Not sure I could.
Epilogue
MADELINE
Years later
The band is playing our song, and Luke’s hands are holding my waist. I have never seen him smile this much. I was excited for this day and knew it would come, but Luke is like a kid on Christmas morning. If it were up to him, we would have done this years ago.
I keep catching myself staring at the people filling the tent. The wedding planner did a wonderful job. I didn’t know you could hang a whole-ass chandelier in a tent. Not just one either. When money isn’t really a concern, you can really do anything you want. I’m still getting used to that financial freedom.
My sister is dancing with Bennett, and I can’t stop smiling at the picture they make. Georgia kicked off her heels an hour ago and is laughing at something Grant said. Everyone I love is here, and they’re happy, and I had a small part in making that happen.
“You’re doing it again,” Luke whispers against my ear. “Checking on everyone.”
“I can’t help it.” He spins me, and I lean back against his chest, feeling his heartbeat steady against my spine. “I like when the people I love are okay and together. Happy.”
“They’re better than okay.” His arms tighten around me. “Look at them. You’re the reason for all of this. You pull us together.” My husband’s words are sweet, making tears prick at my eyes. He always sees me even when I can’t see myself.
I look at my sister, my friends, and this family we’ve built, and I feel it—that warmth in my chest that tells me I’m precisely where I’m supposed to be.
Luke spins me suddenly, making me laugh, and I let him pull me toward the edge of the dance floor, where it’s quieter and where the lights are softer. His hands settle on my hips, and his eyes search my face with that intensity he still gives me even after all of these years, like he’s memorizing something he’ll need later.
“What?” I ask, smiling.
“I just like looking at you.” He brushes hair from my cheek. “My wife.”
“Still getting used to that?”
“Never.” He kisses my forehead. “I’ll never get used to how lucky I got.”
“I’m lucky too.” Luke always thinks he’s the winner in this. I don’t see it that way.
He’s given me a life I didn’t know was possible. Oh, it’s one I wanted but didn’t think was an option.
We’d gone to college together, graduated, bought our first home together, and watched him be drafted into the NHL.
A lot of people might think we married too young, that marrying your high school sweetheart is a thing of the past. That you need to go out and live, but I don’t see it that way. We do live, and we get to do it together. He’s a part of the majority of my memories, especially the happiest ones. I don’t know what’s more perfect than that.
Luke’s thumb traces the curve of my hip, his expression shifting to something hungrier, more focused. “How much longer do we have to stay?”
I laugh, recognizing that tone. “It’s our wedding. We can’t leave our own wedding.” Though it does sound nice. We have been with everyone all day. I’m ready to be alone with him and give him his present.
“Watch me.” His hands slide down to my thighs, and before I can protest, he’s lifting me bridal style, with urgency, like he can’t wait another second.
“Luke!” I squeal, but I’m laughing, my arms winding around his neck. “Put me down!” I order but hold on tighter. I kind of love that he can be the grumpy one. It wasn’t me that made us leave the wedding; it was my husband. What can I say? He’s obsessed with me.
“Nope.” He grins down at me, already walking, carrying me through the crowd like I weigh nothing. “I’ve shared you all day. I’m done with that bullshit. I’m tired of sharing.” I fight a laugh because I’m not encouraging that, but it’s adorable, nonetheless.
The band stutters to a stop. Someone, I’d guess Grant, lets out a loud whistle, and then the whole tent is cheering and catcalling, and my sister is laughing with her hand over her mouth. I bury my face in Luke’s neck. I should be used to this. I can’t tell you how many college games he did crazy shit in over me.
He presses a kiss to my temple, striding past the bar, the cake we haven’t even cut (Georgia will save me a piece), and Bennett shaking his head with an amused smile.
“They can have the party. I want my wife.”
He carries me out of the tent and into the cool night air, with a million stars in the sky. The estate is beautiful; it feels plucked right out from a fairy tale. It’s some historic castle-like place we rented for the weekend, all stone walls and ivy and gardens thatstretch on forever. Our room is in the east wing, up a winding staircase that Luke takes two steps at a time.
“You’re going to drop me,” I tease, though I know he won’t. He never has.
