Epilogue. “Golden”
Two Years Later: Mackenzie
“Hair down,” Serena decides, pulling out the rose-gold claw clip.
Hannah catches my curls in a fist before they fall. “Up,” she insists. “So we can see the earrings.”
All I can see in the mirror of my apartment’s bedroom are three best friends who are all perilously close to spilling rosé on my carpet.
“Half up, half down,” I decide.
Serena considers my reflection in the mirror. “All right. But when we shoot the album cover next week, I think we should try it down.”
I give a little spin, watching the fluttery tulle sleeves of my flowing, deep-V-cut ivory bridal gown swish in the reflection.
Under ordinary circumstances, I wouldn’t be wearing a full-on wedding dress to a birthday party in a bar, but Isla and Twyla never did back down from a theme—this year it’s “Married in Vegas.” Hannah leapt at the opportunity to have one of us photographed in the first dress in her new bridal line, and I drew the short straw.
Now I feel so frilly and light that I can’t help but be glad I did. Especially when we’re pregaming at my place, serving enough disco glam between the three of us that there’s more glitter on my carpet than there was onstage after our shows.
Or rather, what used to be my place. I’ve been living on Dad Side, so these days the apartment is more of a multipurpose recording studio / crash pad / event-hosting space for Serena to put up new music talent while they’re getting on their feet.
Seven Records, the label Serena launched, is booming for both her public artists and the ones who have chosen to stay anonymous.
My phone buzzes with a text from Sam: Lizzie and Kara won’t let me sneak a single pastry. I need reinforcements. ETA?
“Oh, shit,” I say, noticing the time. “We’re late to pick up the others.”
“Wait—one last toast,” says Hannah.
She snaps a quick picture of our reflection as we raise our glasses, Hannah and Serena flanking me in bright blue and yellow dresses from the Hannah Says summer line with their hair in massive updos with matching disco balls hanging from their ears.
Hannah blinks hard, her eyes misty. I give her a quizzical look, but Serena’s already nudging my back toward the hallway.
“Car is here,” she says.
When we reach Sugar Harmony, Rocket is already popping into a taxi with his guitar strapped around his shoulder. He’s so busy as one of Serena’s artists these days that I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s got a gig right on the heels of this.
He’s got plenty of hits on his debut album, but I’ll always have a soft spot for the only cover he has on it—an old song of Seven’s. In the end, we gave each of the songs away to different Tick Tune artists in Serena’s label who wanted to cover them with their own styles.
Seven was only ever meant to give me a new start. It means more to me than I can ever say, that people are using her to make theirs, too.
“Sam is in the back!” Rocket calls to me. “Also, you look very pretty!”
I stick my tongue out at him and let myself into the back kitchen of Sugar Harmony, where everyone is in a flurry.
Sugar Harmony has expanded to the point of catering industry events, weddings, and parties all over the city, and any Twyla and Isla bash is no exception.
Nobody spots me in the doorway at first, so I get to indulge in a long, lingering look at one Sam Blaze.
He’s wearing a slim-cut white linen suit, leaning against the wall with his usual confident ease.
It’s a suit that might look unremarkable on any other man but looks borderline sinful on him, his shirt unbuttoned just enough to see the plane of his summer-tanned chest, his hair windswept in a way that’s going to tempt my fingers all night.
A very naughty part of my brain reminds me that since the party is at Lightning Strike, we’ve got the best place in the city to hide.
But at this rate I don’t know if I can wait until we reach the Hole.
I’m making designs on how to sneak Sam away for a few minutes when he nudges one of the cupcake boxes open.
“What flavors did they go with?” he asks Lizzie.
She grabs Sam’s wrist instead of giving him her usual light smack. Sam blinks in confusion.
“It’s a surprise. The, uh—the concept,” says Lizzie, sweeping the box up. “You’ll see. Anyway, we better get these over to Lightning Strike.”
Sam frowns. “The flavors are a surprise, too?”
Kara slides past him to whisk away the other box. “You’ll see!”
He opens his mouth to protest, but then he spots me in the doorway. His lips curl into a grin, his eyes grazing me up and down, admiring every inch. By the time he reaches me, there’s a gleam of mischief in his eyes that tells me he’s not going to need any convincing.
“Beautiful,” he says, sliding his hands onto my waist to pull me in. “Just goddamn beautiful.”
I tilt my head up at him, beaming. “You clean up pretty well yourself.”
He pulls me in tighter against him. “This dress is making me think we really should get married in Vegas. How else are we gonna show you off?”
Before I can answer, he dips his head to catch me in a breathless, heated kiss. I melt into it, the warmth of it pooling all over my body. Everyone has been inexplicably distracted and busy all day, but there’s no peace in the universe like Sam’s arms around me.
He pulls back slightly, squeezing the back of my neck. “I mean it,” he says into my ear. “Ben’s with my mom until tomorrow. We could get on a red-eye tonight.”
“Mmm. I’m sure we’d be real subtle in this garb,” I say wryly.
His hand slides to my jaw, holding me there. I realize he’s waiting for an answer. That if I said okay, he’d be on the next flight with me without looking back.
But we talked about this. When we get married, we don’t want a spectacle. The plan is to go to the courthouse in a week or so, before Ben’s school year starts back up, and then come back to Sugar Harmony for cake. The last thing we need is some elaborate wedding that might get crashed by the press.
Besides, the real love story isn’t in a wedding.
It’s in every beat of the songs Sam and I have written together under our new duet name, Golden.
It took two damn years to get released from the label’s contract and get the rights back to our songs, but when our debut album comes out with Seven Records, it will have been worth the wait.
If there’s one thing I never have to worry about with Sam, it’s whether we have enough time.
“We’ll renew our vows in Vegas when we’re a hundred,” I say.
Sam tweaks my jaw. “I’ll be a hundred and three.”
“And obnoxiously handsome as ever,” I say, kissing him again.
We pile into the car, where Hannah pops open champagne. The night is already starting to take on a starry, shimmery quality, the memory pressing into my heart before it even gets to my head. I finish my glass, and Sam kisses the last few drops of it off my lips as we pull up to Lightning Strike.
When we open the door, I’m expecting more clamor and noise.
Only the bar isn’t packed to the gills with drunk, Vegas-themed revelers.
It’s lit up and sparkling from the disco ball on the ceiling and bursting with colorful wildflowers at every corner, with a slew of them lining the runway Hannah uses for her fashion launches.
And then, at the same time, Sam and I both blurt, “ Ben? ”
In fact, it’s a whole mismatched group of people—Ben standing between Sam’s mom, Anna, and Caspar.
Grayson, who is dutifully waiting for Hannah the way he always does as the supportive boyfriend of the busiest woman in the world.
Twyla and Isla, looking devilishly gleeful over two cocktails.
And off to the side are Hannah’s parents and, looking out of place but supportive, mine .
Ben runs up, slamming into us with a hug. I only stay steady on my heels because Hannah and Serena are right behind me.
“We weren’t about to let you guys get married in some stuffy courthouse,” says Hannah.
My eyes are already welling up before I fully realize what’s happening. “Guys,” I manage.
“Don’t worry,” says Serena. “We thought of everything. The place is completely secure.”
But I’m not worried. I’m overwhelmed with the love in this room. I have never been more grateful for it, but right now it might just tip me over.
Ben runs off to his moms, and then Sam’s hands are in mine, as he leans in close. “You’re okay with this?” he asks quietly.
I nod, too overcome to speak. Sam smiles and squeezes my hands.
“Good,” he says. “Because it’s been too damn long for me to go another day without being able to call you my wife.”
I let out a choked, happy laugh. “Better than Sparkles,” I say.
He shakes his head. “You’re always gonna shine,” he says, kissing the top of my head.
I look up at this man who has been so many things to me. My most unexpected heartbreak. My toughest lesson. My past, my present, my future.
My best friend, and the love of my life.
We kiss, and the bar erupts in tipsy, happy applause before tossing into an ocean of hugs and kisses and desserts. My parents wait a few minutes to come over to embrace me, sheepish but pleased.
I know they love me. It’s easier to understand some of it now that I have so much steady love in my life.
I see it in the way they make an effort to get to know Sam better, in the way they ask after Ben.
Things will never be perfect, but some of the gap has been bridged.
It is just one more thing I won’t take for granted in this new, unexpected life.
“Let’s get these two hot people married!” Hannah declares.
The rest of the night is a sparkling blur.
My dad comes to the start of the makeshift aisle with me to give me away, tearful and proud.
Caspar waits at the other end of it, ordained and ready to officiate.
Rocket plays an acoustic version of “Play You by Heart” on his guitar.
Hannah uses one hand to stop her steady stream of tears while she films from her phone with the other.
Serena beams with a pride that glows brighter than every neon light in the bar.
Sam walks down the aisle with Ben scampering proudly just behind him with the rings. Sam waits for him to catch up so they finish the last few steps together.
Then Rocket seamlessly shifts the song to the bright, sweet chords of “Golden.” All eyes shift toward me, but I can only see one person in this room. He’s already watching me, hazel eyes bright and welling with awe.
It is the slowest, sweetest walk of my life.
I want to savor every moment of this, the way I savor them all.
The warmth of Sam’s chest against my back holds me in the middle of the night.
The proud crow of his voice as we cheer Ben on from the soccer stands.
The too-early mornings and the too-late nights, the whirlwind of music and family and laughter and tears and more happiness than I’ll ever think I deserve.
“I love you,” Sam tells me, the moment I can hear him. The words come out soft and reverent, like he still can’t believe how lucky he is to get to say them.
I can’t help it. I tilt my head up and kiss him. Everyone laughs as he sinks into it, grabbing me by the waist and theatrically dipping me, making me squeal with delight.
He sets me back on my heels with a breathless swoop. “I love you, too,” I say. I’ll never tire of saying it for as long as I live.
The ceremony begins. We don’t bother with vows, because there is nothing left unsaid anymore. Nothing we can’t already see reflected in each other’s eyes, pressed into every touch, hummed into every melody.
Eventually Caspar must tell Sam he can kiss the bride, because he wraps his arms tight around me and does just that.
Our friends and family break into cheers, but I can barely hear them over the happy beating of my heart.
I am dizzy with happiness, more in my body and outside of it than I’ve ever been, like I am feeling not just the joy of this moment but the promise of all the joy yet to come.
We’ll write a thousand songs trying to capture this, each one more beautiful than the last. But we’ll never finish it.
Even as my heart beats to the pulse of that song, I know this to be true.
It swells and pitches, it tumbles and breathes, but it will never be written, because it will never, ever end.