Page 44 of My Girl to Take

Epilogue

Logan

6 months later

I didn’t think a room full of people could feel this quiet.

Not with the soft music drifting through the air. The low murmur of voices settling into their seats. And the sunlight pouring through the tall windows and casting everything in gold. But somehow, as I stand here at the altar, none of that reaches me the way it should

Because my focus is fixed on one thing.

The doors.

My hands rest loosely in front of me, but there’s a tension in my chest I can’t quite shake. Tight and restless, and it has nothing to do with nerves and everything to do with anticipation. I’ve faced boardrooms, negotiations, and crises that would have broken most people, and none of it compares to this moment.

A lifetime. With her.

I exhale slowly, my gaze flicking briefly to my father where he sits in the front row. His posture is stronger than it has been in years. His expression is calm but proud in a way that settles something deep in my chest.

Six months ago, I sat in a consultant’s office in Boston and listened to a man carefully explain, without promising anything, that there was a trial with eleven places left in it and that my father met the criteria for nine of the eleven.

I spent two weeks and a considerable amount of money on the other two.

He got in. The infusions started in February, and by April, his numbers had stopped sliding. By June, a cardiologist used the word responding in a tone that suggested he didn’t use it often.

Kiera believes it was me coming home that did it. That he found something to hold on to and held on.

I don’t know. I’ve read the literature, and there’s nothing in it about wanting to live. What I know is that a man who could not cross a room in November walked my wife down an aisle this morning. Both explanations are probably true, and I’m not required to pick one.

We fought for this. Both of us.

The music shifts.

Everything in me stills.

The doors open.

And she walks in.

Kiera steps into view, and for a second, everything else disappears completely. The room, the people, the noise—all of it fading into nothing as my world narrows down to her alone. I have seen her a hundred times, in a thousand different ways, and none of it prepared me for this.

She looks unreal. Like something out of a dream I didn’t know I had.

The dress falls perfectly around her, soft and elegant, catching the light with every step she takes. Her hair swept up, a few strands loose at her temple. It makes her look both delicate and strong at the same time. And when those eyes lift and meet mine...

That’s it. I’m done.

Emotion hits hard, fast, closing my throat in a way I don’t even try to fight. Because this is her, this is the woman who changed everything without trying. The woman who walked into my life and turned it into something I never planned for but now can’t imagine living without.

And she’s walking toward me. With my father, who had left his seat to walk at her side. His way of showing up for us both.

That alone almost breaks me.

His hand rests over hers, steady, protective. And when they finally reach me, when he places her hand in mine, his gaze meets mine for a brief second.

Take care of her.

He doesn’t say it. He doesn’t have to.