Epilogue
ASH
One year later…
“Are you about done?” Henry poked his head through the door.
Oliver stood in front of me, hands on the knot of my tie, making sure it was just right. “Just about.” His dark brown eyes checked his work for a second before he smiled up at me.
“I’ll be right back,” Henry said, closing the door again.
He’d been running around all morning, bouncing between me and Ethan and everything else he was supposed to be in charge of.
His real job today was to relax and be with us, but Henry wasn’t built for giving up control when it came to big events.
And this was about as big as it got.
There were over three hundred people attending. I still wasn’t sure how he’d pulled that off, considering I wasn’t exactly known for having close friends. But between Langley family obligations, our shared social circle, and business connections, we’d actually had to cut the list down.
We’d asked for this, though. We wanted today to be something people talked about. Something they looked forward to. Hell, Henry had even arranged for press coverage, because we’d wanted that too. Public, but on our terms. Exactly how we liked it.
“I can’t believe this is actually happening,” Oliver muttered as I slipped on my jacket.
“So little faith,” I said, running my fingers through my hair, careful not to mess anything up as the sound of liquid being poured into a glass filled the room.
“No, I mean—I knew it would happen. It’s just… strange to match the you standing here now with the you from five years ago.”
“With Sebastian Langley, the CEO?”
He smirked as he handed me the glass. “With Sebastian Langley, the chain-smoking playboy who swore he was never going to settle down.”
I chuckled. “If you remember correctly, I said I would. Just not necessarily with the person of your choosing.”
Oliver smiled at me, soft and fond. “I couldn’t be happier about the person you chose.”
That warmed something in me, but I couldn’t resist the jibe. “Five years ago, you had a different opinion.”
“Absolutely no one could have predicted this.” He raised his drink. “But we can toast to a reckless plan working out in your favor.”
I clinked his glass.
The door burst open again, and Henry frowned at the sight of us. “Hey. No celebrating without me. New rule—all toasts include the three of us.”
“Everything okay?” I asked.
“Yeah,” he said, looking a little frazzled but grinning. “Double best-man duty is getting interesting, but everything’s perfect. Let’s drink and make an honest man out of you.”
Oliver’s lips parted.
“It’s too easy,” I said dryly.
Henry laughed. “Way too easy.”
After we drank, Henry ushered us out of the room.
My heart picked up its pace—fast and unprovoked.
It made no sense. There was nothing fragile about us anymore—no hiding, no glances over shoulders, no calculations before touching him in public. Just life, unfolding at our pace.
Mornings that started together and didn’t feel borrowed. Calendars that overlapped because we wanted them to. Flights booked without secrecy. Dinners that turned into plans, plans that quietly turned into habits.
We argued about groceries. About whose turn it was to order out or attempt cooking. About whether fantasy novels counted as “serious literature.” They absolutely did. We worked too late and still went to bed tangled together, bodies familiar enough to sleep through.
It was ordinary. And today was just a formality—because this was already our life.
But my heart didn’t seem to care.
This wasn’t something I was chasing anymore.
And that realization hit harder than all the risks ever had.
Henry walked ahead of us, talking quickly into his phone as we moved through the back of the venue. Kitchens. Offices. Then finally, a wall of soft white curtains.
“Ready,” he said into the phone. “Two minutes. Start it up.”
The music dipped, then swelled again.
“You have the song I asked for, right?” I murmured.
Henry scoffed. “The one thing you asked for? Please.”
“Just checking. In case you haven’t noticed, I’m a little nervous.”
Oliver’s hand settled on my shoulder, and Henry’s joined it on the other side.
“We’ve got you,” Henry said gently.
And then he pulled the curtain back.
Hundreds of people stood, all eyes turning toward the Langley brothers as we stepped into the room.
Into the event of the year.
The second Langley-Bennett wedding.
For a moment, I just stood there, taking it all in.
The space had been transformed into something stately and almost unreal.
Rows of sleek dark chairs filled the room, every seat occupied, every guest dressed in black, creating a sea of shadow and silk that made the aisle glow in contrast. Tall arrangements of white flowers and soft gold accents lined the walkway, candlelight flickering between them like a path of fire leading straight to the raised stage at the far end.
Behind everything rose the grand staircase, wide and sweeping. The aisle stretched from those steps all the way to where we now stood, waiting.
Waiting for him.
Henry and Oliver took their places beside me, both in dark blue at my sides. My own suit matched Ethan’s, cut from the same white cloth, tailored carefully.
I let my gaze drift, just for a second, over the front row.
My father stood there beside Vivian, his posture straight, his expression soft in a way I wasn’t used to seeing. He was smiling—really smiling—and there was pride in his eyes that made something in me ache.
A few seats over, Charlotte was practically glowing, Liam and Amelia beside her barely containing themselves, their excitement bubbling over in quiet giggles, trying very hard—and failing—to look subtle as they edged closer to the aisle, craning their necks for a better view.
All of them here.
All of them watching.
The music changed once more, and the first notes of the song I’d chosen poured into the room. When Henry had played it for me earlier, I hadn’t even tried to hide my smile. In a funny way, it had been ours from the start.
I leaned slightly toward my brothers, eyes already locked on the staircase. “Watch his face.”
At the top of the stairs, Ethan appeared, and the world narrowed to just him.
He stood there for a breath, framed by light, golden curls a little wild, his suit fitting him like it had been designed by someone who knew exactly how to love every inch of him. His eyes lifted, searching—and they found me. That shy smile settled on his mouth, soft and devastating all at once.
Then the song hit him. His shoulders loosened, emotion slipping through, and he shook his head with a quiet laugh before mouthing fuck you in my direction.
Henry and Oliver both chuckled beside me, and my face hurt with how wide my grin was as laughter rolled through me.
Ethan’s lips curved into something wicked as he started down the stairs, his gaze never leaving mine. He mouthed the lyrics as he descended, picking up speed with every step, energy practically sizzling around him.
He held his arms slightly open at his sides, eyes blazing, fixed on me as he mouthed the words straight to me.
But you dragged me through the fire…
I had.
And I would again.
For us.
His pace quickened, and I couldn’t stop myself from moving too, meeting him halfway with my arms already open. One hand flew to my neck to pull me in as I caught his waist. Foreheads touched, eyes closing as the weight of everything around us pressed in, charged and electric.
We were getting married.
He and I.
Who would have thought?
“You just had to use that fucking song,” he muttered, lips a breath from mine.
“I am feeling particularly lucky right now,” I said, biting down on my lip as he pulled back just enough to glare at me, a smile he wasn’t even trying to hide tugging at his mouth.
Our eyes were locked together, the music still swelling around us, the room full of people and light and expectation.
“You ready?” he said, his tone changing to match this moment.
I smiled. “For a while now.”
His thumb brushed under my jaw, that small, gentle touch igniting something in me—something that had only ever been his.
Ethan’s grin was bright as he tilted his head. “Then let’s go get married.”
And together, we turned toward the stage.
The reception had already slipped into motion around us.
Music hummed through the room, warm and low, laughter rising and falling in soft waves as people moved between tables, glasses catching the light. Candle flames flickered against crystal and gold, turning everything hazy and unreal, like the whole night was wrapped in a gentle glow.
And in the middle of it all, Ethan and I were sitting shoulder to shoulder, still not quite believing this was real. There was a strange, floating feeling under my skin, like the ground hadn’t caught up with us yet.
Married. Officially and irrevocably.
We didn’t need to cling to each other to feel it, but somehow we kept finding small ways to stay connected anyway. Our knees brushing when one of us shifted. Hands resting on thighs. Fingers reaching without really thinking about it.
Every now and then, he glanced at me, eyes soft and a little dazed, like he was still trying to process what had just happened.
I felt the same. A year of waiting, wanting, building toward this moment—and now here we were, sitting in a room full of people who knew.
Who could see us. Who were celebrating us.
It was overwhelming in the best way.
“You know,” Ethan said, pulling my attention back to him. “I know we agreed on this, but isn’t it weird seeing just us two in white?”
I pressed my lips together to keep from smiling as I leaned in closer. “Why would it be weird?”
Ethan gave me a look, humor dancing behind his eyes. “Come on, Ash. You and I aren’t exactly the paragons of purity, are we?”
A laugh broke out of me before I could stop it, and Ethan followed, folding into me for a second, his forehead brushing my shoulder.