Rescuing My Best Friend’s Girl

3. THE LIGHTHOUSE WEDDING

GRACE

Inside the cozy guest room at the lighthouse keeper’s bungalow, the scent of salt and wildflowers drifts through an open window, mingling with the quiet murmur of family and friends’ voices from outside. Practically everyone in Seabrook has gathered near the lighthouse, drawn together to celebrate this day. It’s not just a wedding—it’s the second chance at love Luke and I have fought so hard to find.

From Mrs. Carlson at the bakery to the Millers who run the grocery store, and even old Mr. Grady from the marina, they all feel a sense of responsibility for bringing us back together, as though their well-wishes and quiet encouragement over the years somehow guided us to this moment. They witnessed our intense high school relationship, saw it fall apart, and now they’re here to see it come full circle.

But for now, it’s just Mom and me. My lighthouse. It’s going to be my legacy, too, once I marry Luke today. It feels strange to think of it that way, even now, as I stand here in a flowing gown of ivory and lace, delicate floral patterns trailing over the fabric like vines climbing a trellis. The bodice hugs me flatteringly, and the lace sleeves feel soft against my skin, whispering of elegance and tradition. My heart is so full it’s hard to take deep breaths.

“You’re stunning, Grace,” my mom whispers as she adjusts my veil. Her eyes shimmer with a mix of pride and pensiveness, like she’s holding back tears. “You remind me of the day I married your father. So beautiful, so full of hope. So sure that he was the perfect man for me.”

I laugh softly, gripping the small bouquet of roses, daisies, and lavender. I can’t help but think of Luke’s constant presence over the past few months, how he’s quietly taken care of every detail to make this day perfect.

Her smile turns wistful and introspective. “He’s shown how much he adores you, Grace. The way he looks at you, the way he’s always there to protect you—he’ll be an amazing husband to you.”

I glance at her, glimpsing something deeper behind her smile. “Are you okay?”

She nods, but her voice is soft when she replies “I’m giving my little girl away today. It’s a lot to take in, Grace. But I couldn’t be happier knowing it’s Luke. He’s a good man, and he loves you so much. That’s all a mother can hope for.” She hesitates, her hands smoothing the fabric of my veil.

“But there’s something I’ve carried for too long, and I need to say it now,” she adds, her voice tentative. “When Luke left after high school, it wasn’t just his decision. I told him he shouldn’t hold you back, that you deserved more than what he could offer at the time. I asked him to walk away from you, and I thought I was doing the right thing for you; but, I’ve regretted it ever since. I’m so sorry, Grace.”

Her confession hangs in the air, laced with emotion. Tears prick my eyes, but I take her hand in mine. “Mom,” I say softly, “you did what you thought was best. And maybe it hurt then, but it led us here. I wouldn’t change a thing. I love you, and I forgive you.”

Her shoulders relax, and she squeezes my hand. “You’re an incredible woman, Grace. Luke is lucky to have you.”

Her words settle over me, a warm reassurance I hadn’t realized I needed until this very moment. I take a deep breath, feeling the magnitude of everything this day represents. Today isn’t just about love—it’s about healing, about finding light after so much turmoil.

There are so many years of doubt and heartbreak I carry with me, moments of feeling lost and unsure if Luke could have truly loved me the way he said he did, especially when he seemed to so easily turn and walk away from me.

It began when he left to join the Navy without giving me any explanation, leaving me with unanswered questions and a broken heart. I know Luke felt the heartbreak of leaving me, too.

I also know he carries the incredible sorrow and guilt from his years as a SEAL, especially from the tragic convoy explosion that took the lives of his Navy brothers—his closest friends—and left him permanently scarred and injured.

When I returned to Seabrook last summer for my marine biology research, I had planned to stay in a rented cabin. But instead, I was forced to stay with Luke, and that reunion was filled with awkwardness and uncertainty about our feelings. Luke doubted he could be the man I deserved because of his past trauma and the injury to his leg. We both feared rejection and being hurt again.

But we faced it together, one step at a time, until the shadows gave way to hope.

Pretzel barks from somewhere near the house, likely causing another ruckus. He’s been as much a part of this journey as anyone else.

Grace’s mom steps back, hands on her hips, and studies me. “Exquisitely perfect. I’m not sure Luke knows what he’s getting into,” she teases with a laugh, “but he’ll figure it out soon enough. He’s not going to know what hit him,” she adds, her smile masking bittersweet feelings.

I laugh softly, my fingers brushing over the delicate petals of the bouquet. The scent of the flowers swirls around me, filling me with the pure joy of this day.

“I think he’ll manage.”

“Now, don’t trip on your way down the aisle, okay?” Mom’s tone is light, but I can hear the underlying emotion as she tries to compose herself. She’s doing her best to hide just how much this moment means to her.

I roll my eyes. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

She winks, then hurries off to join the others in the wedding party. I take a deep breath and imagine the lighthouse just outside, its unwavering presence a reflection of how Luke has stood beside me these past months. It’s been a sanctuary for us both, a place where broken pieces began to mend.

The sound of the string quartet, the violins playing a reflective melody perfectly complemented by the viola and cello playing the harmony, pulls me back. It’s time.

As I step out onto the makeshift aisle lined with driftwood and candles, all eyes turn toward me. But there’s only one gaze I seek. Luke stands under the wedding arch, his broad shoulders perfectly framed by a navy suit that fits him with tailored precision. The fabric clings just enough to emphasize his strength, each line of his physique speaking of power and grace.

A flutter races through me, heat pooling in my chest, a warmth that’s equal parts admiration and desire. In this moment, he’s everything—unshakable, steadfast, and so heartbreakingly handsome that I feel my knees weaken slightly. The way he looks at me, awe gentling his rugged features, sends a ripple of emotion through me that I feel down to my toes. His expression is a mix of wonder and determination, like he’s still trying to believe this is real.

I feel the sting of tears as our eyes meet.

There’s so much history between us, so many moments that led to this. My mind drifts back to when we were dating in high school, painting the memory with vivid clarity—near the cliff by the lighthouse, under a canopy of endless stars, the ocean breeze tugs at my hair, carrying the scent of salt and freedom. Luke stands in front of me, his hands stuffed in his pockets, his eyes searching mine as if trying to memorize every detail. The world feels impossibly still, the waves below crashing softly against the rocks, their rhythm matching the pounding of my heart.

“You’re amazing, Grace,” he says, his voice barely more than a whisper. Then he leans in, his lips brushing mine with hesitance and the effort to make this milestone perfect, giving me a piece of himself he’s never shared before. Time stretches, the stars above us seeming to shine brighter, as if they’re celebrating this moment.

That kiss was more than just our first; it was a promise. I can still feel the way his fingers trailed gently through my hair, his touch so careful yet so electrifying that it left me breathless, as if he were trying to memorize every strand; and the way he looked at me, as if I was the only person in the world. It was the kind of moment that stayed with me this whole time, even when everything else seemed lost.

Then there was the way he carried me when I sprained my ankle in high school, his arms muscular and reliable, scooping me up without waiting. I remember the way his chest felt against my shoulder, the humble determination in his stride as though carrying me was the most natural thing in the world. My embarrassment melted into a realization of how safe I felt with him, how his presence wrapped around me like a shield from the world.

Even now, the memory sends a warm flush through me, a reminder of how he’s always been my protector. The years we spent apart were so very hard, but even then, Luke’s presence was a quiet force in my life. In my loneliest moments, I held on to the memory of his strength—the way he carried me, the way his voice caressed my name. Those memories became my lifeline, comforting me when everything else felt uncertain.

Even from miles away, his love reached me in ways I didn’t fully understand at the time. It was unyielding, a quiet assurance that reminded me I wasn’t as alone as I felt. And now, standing here, I see the man who has always been my refuge, my constant, my protector.

The closer I get, the more his gruff exterior softens. Luke is a man who carries the weight of the world on his shoulders, but today, he looks unburdened, as though the heartbreaks of the past have finally eased, leaving space for something new and hopeful.

My dad escorts me down the aisle, his hand warm and firm on mine. As we pause when we reach the altar, he leans in close and whispers, “You’ve always been my greatest joy, Grace. Watching you find this happiness today fills my heart more than I can ever say. You’re incredible, and I’m so proud of you.”

He pulls me into a hug, his arms wrapping tightly around me in a moment that feels both protective and tender. When he pulls back, he presses a kiss to my cheek, his voice soft with emotion. “I’m so glad to be giving you to Luke and having him join the family,” he murmurs. His words carry the depth of love and pride, bolstering me before he steps aside.

I step forward, and Luke takes my hand. His touch is firm and loving, sending a wave of calm through me, yet igniting a spark of excitement, as if his presence alone can reach into my heart and fill it with contentment. He leans in slightly, his hand tightening around mine, and for a moment, the world feels perfectly aligned—just the two of us, standing on the edge of forever.

The ceremony is a blur of heartfelt words and gentle laughter. Mom stands before the gathered guests, her hands trembling slightly as she reads a poem about love’s resilience. Her voice catches at the end, and she pauses to collect herself before finishing, the emotion unmistakable. The waves crash rhythmically in the background, as if nature itself is blessing this union.

Newly-widowed Josephine Richards sits near the front, her hand resting protectively over the tiniest curve of her stomach. She catches my eye and smiles, though there’s a glint of something deeper there—celebration blended with sadness. I do know that I am probably one of the only people who knows of the new life she carries.

When it’s time for the vows, Luke clears his throat. He’s not one for speeches, but I know whatever he’s about to say will stay with me forever.

“Grace,” he begins, his voice drops but remains resolute. “You’ve always been my light, even when I didn’t deserve it, even when I was too broken to see it. You reminded me what it means to live with purpose, to hope, to love.” He pauses, his jaw grinding slightly as he fights for composure. “Today, I promise to stand by you, to protect you, and to love you for the rest of my life. No matter what comes our way.”

A tear slips down my cheek. I’ve heard this man say many things, but never words like these. Words that make me feel like the most cherished person in the world.

It’s my turn. My hands shiver, not from cold but nerves and vulnerability, as I hold his. “Luke,” I say, focusing on the vows I’ve memorized. “You’ve taught me that love is not about perfection. It’s about finding strength in the broken places, about showing up even when it’s hard. I promise to stand with you, to choose you, every day. You’re my safe harbor, my home, my heart.”

His grip tightens, his eyes never leaving mine.

Jo shifts uncomfortably, drawing my attention. I know her late husband’s memory is fresh, especially today. It was only six years ago that Tanner and Jo shared their own wedding vows.

She’s trying to be discreet, but her expression gives her away. Guilt flickers across her face, followed by raw and unspoken emotion. She’s told me that she’s caught between Tanner’s memory and her unknown future. She exhales softly, and I notice a deep sadness in her eyes, but also a glimmer of resolve, as though she’s searching for a way to honor the past while finding the courage to move forward.

Jo’s posture stiffens slightly. Today isn’t just a wedding celebration; it’s a reminder of what she’s lost, a bittersweet reflection of the short love story they shared and the life they never got to finish building together. Tanner will always be a part of her story, and a part of ours, as one of Luke’s closest friends.

After we exchange rings and Pastor Taylor speaks the final words, I’m overwhelmed by a powerful sense of gratitude. For Luke, for this moment, for the love that has brought us here. But even as Luke’s lips brush mine and the crowd erupts in cheers, I can’t shake the feeling that not everyone’s heart is as whole as mine.