Epilogue
EPILOGUE
O ur wedding was unforgettable and completely magical. The romantic in me wouldn’t settle for anything less. We were married five years after we first met. It was a glorious spring day in DC with cherry blossoms in full bloom and the air ripe with possibility. Our guests were reduced to tears with poems, stories, and songs dedicated to Peter and me. To our union, to our future.
I looked out at the crowd that had gathered to celebrate with us and was grateful that Peter and I were blessed with so many amazing people who loved and supported us. Aaron was my best man, of course, and his hunky boyfriend, Matt, played guitar and sang a Jason Mraz song Peter and I loved.
Katie was there with a date du jour. I asked her to be in charge of the flowers, which resulted in a lot of pink petals, but thankfully Peter didn’t seem to mind too much. His best person was Kelly. She was a mother now to two beautiful toddlers, Blake and Petra, and had a serene all-patient countenance that only a few parents ever seem to achieve outside of a sitcom.
Jack was there too. He was single again, and I noticed him flirting shamelessly with one of Matt and Aaron’s friends at one point. Jack was a good man and a good friend. But Kelly had been right when she confided all those years ago that Peter and he hadn’t been a long-term match. There was something that didn’t fit, which was good news for me because Peter and I did.
We had experienced our share of relationship growing pains over the past five years. I had moved into Peter’s row house in Adams Morgan about six months after we became a real couple. I loved his home, and there wasn’t much I wanted to change, but the things that I did were a little hard for him to adjust to at first. Or maybe it was talking about paint swatches incessantly that bugged him. It was a test, but we passed.
Family stuff was more difficult.
My family welcomed him with open arms, which was a little overwhelming at times. There are just so damn many of us that Peter had to adjust to the sheer number.
His family was a harder nut to crack. His dad was kind but distant, and his mother and I… well, we were a work in progress. Thank God for Maggie. His sister was sweet and loving, and accepted us in a way that I knew Peter still hoped his mother would one day. Who knew? Stranger things have happened.
“Hey. There you are.” Peter came up behind me and wrapped me in a warm embrace around my middle. I turned in his arms and smiled up at my husband.
Husband. Wow.
“I can’t believe we’re married.”
Peter smiled and kissed my forehead sweetly.
“Me either. It’s a little late for cold feet, you know,” he teased.
“I have no regrets, husband.”
Peter chuckled softly. I must have called him that twenty times in the two hours since we’d been declared legally wedded men.
“Me neither. I’m where I belong.” Peter gently lifted my chin and kissed me properly. Sealing his lips over mine with a passion that required no words.
My favorite movies and books all had happy endings and that would never change. But what I knew now because of Peter was that happy endings were only worth a damn when you worked for them. Or when you finally took a chance.