Chapter Thirteen
KAMIYAH
The ring catches the morning light as I twist it around my finger again—slowly, carefully—like if I handle it too quickly I might wake from some impossible dream.
Five carats, flawless, cut in a way that makes it look almost unreal.
Too beautiful. Too extravagant. Too much like a fairy tale meant for someone else.
I stare at it until my eyes blur.
Until my chest tightens.
Until my breath feels shallow.
This isn’t how I imagined my wedding day.
Not in a remote mountain chapel tucked behind rows of whispering pines.
Not in a dress my mother and I didn’t pick out.
And not with my hair pinned up by my own trembling hands in the reflection of a bathroom mirror no bigger than a lunch tray.
And certainly not without my mother gently fussing over my veil or my father waiting to walk me down the aisle.
A soft ache blooms in my throat—a quiet little grief I thought I’d learned to live with long ago, resurfacing in one sharp breath. I press the ring flat against my palm and close my eyes.
I wish you were here, Mom.
I wish you could see me.
I wish you could tell me I’m doing the right thing.
The chapel door creaks softly behind me.
“Hey.” Caden’s voice is quiet, gentler than I’ve heard it in days.
I open my eyes, turning slightly. He stands a few feet away, hands in the pockets of his charcoal suit pants. His tie is undone around his neck, like he tried to finish getting ready but couldn’t quite manage it without checking on me first.
When our gazes meet, his eyes soften immediately.
“You’re supposed to be hiding out until I’m at the front,” I say, trying to smile.
“Couldn’t wait that long.” He steps closer. “You looked… lost.”
“I’m fine,” I lie.
He doesn’t challenge the words.
He just looks down at my hand—the one fiddling with the ring—and then slowly lifts his eyes to mine again.
“You’re sad,” he says, no hesitation, no apology for noticing. “Tell me.”
I swallow hard. “I was just thinking about my parents.”
His expression shifts—something like regret and tenderness mixing together. He reaches out slowly, giving me time to pull away if I want. I don’t. His fingers close around mine, warm and steady.
“I’m sorry they’re not here,” he says quietly.
The words flatten me.
Not because they’re dramatic—he never is—but because they’re sincere.
Raw.
Without defensiveness.
Without expectation.
Just the truth.
“I wanted my dad to walk me down the aisle,” I admit, voice tight. “I used to picture it when I was little. Him standing tall and proud. My mom crying because she always cried at everything.” A breathy laugh escapes me. “Even commercials.”
Caden’s thumb brushes across my knuckles. “You deserved all of that, Kamiyah.”
I blink hard, but tears push through anyway. He steps closer until I can feel the warmth of his body in the cool morning air.
“And I’m sorry,” he murmurs. “I’m sorry I can’t give you the wedding you dreamed of.
Sorry this is rushed and quiet and hidden out here in the middle of nowhere.
” His voice dips lower. “You deserve a cathedral. Music. Flowers in every aisle. A dress you spent months choosing. And your father walking you down that aisle with your mother crying in the front row.”
A tear slips free down my cheek.
He catches it with his thumb, the gesture so gentle it cracks something open in my chest. “But I promise you this,” he says, his gaze locking to mine.
“When this is over—when your aunt isn’t looming over us like a storm cloud—when we’ve fought our way through every obstacle she’s thrown at us…
” He lifts my hand and presses a kiss to my ring finger.
“I will give you the wedding you deserve. Every detail. Every moment. Everything you never got to have.”
My breath catches. “Caden…”
“No.” He shakes his head. “Let me say it. You deserve that. More than that.” His palm settles over my cheek, warm and grounding.
“You’re doing all of this for Anna. You’re carrying so much weight alone, and I hate that this wedding has to be part of that burden.
” He leans in, lowering his forehead to mine.
“But I promise you… I will make it right.”
His vow sinks into me, slow and deep and impossibly steady.
Not a grand declaration.
Not poetry.
Just a vow from a husband to his wife. And it hits harder than anything else could have.
“I know this isn’t what you imagined,” he whispers. “But I’m here. I’m all in. And I’m not going anywhere.”
I close my eyes—just for a second—letting the warmth of him anchor me. Letting the sound of his voice soften the ache in my chest.
“I’m scared,” I admit quietly.
“So am I.”
I pull back just enough to look up at him. “Really?”
He laughs under his breath, low and rough. “Terrified.”
A small smile tugs at my lips. “But you don’t look terrified.”
“That’s because I’m very good at pretending I know what I’m doing.”
My laugh comes out wobbly, but real.
He squeezes my hand. “Come with me,” he says softly.
He leads me to the chapel doorway. The wood smells like pine and time. The morning sun filters through the stained-glass window, painting the aisle in soft gold and rose. The chapel is empty except for the officiant waiting patiently at the front and a few candles flickering gently along the walls.
It’s simple.
Quiet.
Unexpectedly beautiful.
My breath shivers out as Caden turns to me, his eyes dark and achingly warm. “Walk with me?” he asks.
Not let me walk you.
Not let me lead you down the aisle.
Walk with me.
Together.
I nod, slipping my hand into his. His fingers wrap around mine like he’s been waiting forever to hold them.
We step forward.
Side by side.
Toward the little altar and the life we’ve agreed to build, even if it started as pretend. Even if everything could fall apart.
Right now, in this quiet mountain chapel, with my hand in his…
It feels real.
Dangerously real.
Beautifully real.
And for the first time since arriving at the chapel, I don’t twist the ring on my finger. I hold his hand instead.