EPILOGUE
FALL
MY WEDDING DAY… AGAIN
I’VE ALWAYS DREAMED OF my wedding day.
Not so much the decor or guest list, but rather the quiet moments in between the madness with my new husband.
And luckily, I won’t have to dream about it much longer.
Luke and I are meeting our friends and family at the private airstrip and boarding Nick’s plane.
Then we’re heading to our brand new home in the Adirondacks Mountains.
I don’t know how the hell Luke got our massive home completed so quickly.
Maybe throwing mind-numbing amounts of money and sending burly growls at our contractor did the trick.
Because today at sunset, I’ll be marrying the man of my dreams in our living room. The one with sixty-foot ceilings and equally large glass windows that overlook the breathtaking landscape.
The fact that everyone will be staying on our property makes it feel like I’m finally getting a long overdue big family sleepover.
Luke has taken me by surprise, being more involved in the wedding planning process than I anticipated.
He almost sent me into cardiac arrest when he reenacted his shirtless axe-swinging performance, this time to build a wedding arch for us.
If there hadn’t been contractors on the property hustling to get our house done in time, I would have been on my man in an instant.
But like the good little fiancée I am, I sat and watched as my future husband hand crafted an incredible piece of woodwork.
One that will be decorated with wildflowers and white daisies.
Like the ones in front of our little cabin, the one that is meant only for the two of us.
I should have known he’d be this way about our wedding day. I knew that man was itching to run down the aisle. That point was evident when he got my name tattooed on his ring finger a few days after we got engaged.
Though I thought he would scrap our plans all together when I surprised him with a matching tattoo of an L on my ring finger, with vines that were a perfect replica to the ones on my engagement ring.
He almost had us reciting our vows right then and there. He also promised to get the daisy tattoo that he’s apparently been planning for a very long time.
But now, with the way he’s fussing over me, the real feat will be leaving the apartment on time. Concerned that we’re breaking all the rules by seeing one another on our wedding morning, long before I’m due to slip into my beautiful and very comfortable white dress.
Aside from being tailor made for me, it’s flowy and whimsical, and best of all, it has pockets.
Although I am a bit partial to my second dress.
The one I’ll be wearing tonight. The one meant for dancing and eating our Dominican feast. It’s a short little white number, with detachable see-through sleeves that run up my arms up until my neckline.
The best part? It poofs around my hips, exaggerating my curves instead of trying to hide them.
My wedding stylist paired it with a beautiful pair of broken-in white heels.
I’ll wear them for a few photos, but Luke’s already packed my white Converses, my lucky runaway shoes, for me to wear as I dance the night away.
Luke walks into the apartment looking flushed. “Okay, the car taking us to the airport is all packed. Am I forgetting anything? Shoes? Dress? Veil?” He pats his jacket and jeans pockets as if he’d find those objects there.
Usually, I would tease him mercilessly about being so flustered. But I can’t, because it seems as though I’m in the same boat with him today, but for a completely different reason.
“Everything is all set. But we’re forgetting one thing.”
He straightens, scanning my apartment, the one we’re living in while we make plans for the renovations that we’ll take on next year. I couldn’t imagine managing two active home construction sites, especially now that the team is only one month away from potentially playing in the World Series.
“What are we missing?” he asks nervously when I don’t come right out with it.
I lift my yellow Polaroid camera from the entry table. “We need one last picture of you and me for the wall. Our last photo before we’re officially husband and wife.”
His shoulders relax, and I finally get that sweet smile that’s been buried under his worries all morning. The smile he saves just for me.
He tries to take the camera from my hands—I usually defer all picture-taking to him since he towers over me—but this picture is one I’m going to need to take the lead on. “I got it. I need the right angle. It’s an important shot, you know.”
His brows rise playfully. “Where do you want me, wife?”
I tap my chin, feigning concentration. “Unfortunately, we don’t have time for that specific position, but I guess this will have to do.
” I walk him backward, careful to have him facing the exact position I need him in for our photo.
“Right by our photo wall. The one filled with the people we love and all of our happy memories.”
The wall has become a ridiculous art project. A road map of our happiness. It is overflowing with postcards, Polaroids, and wedding invitations, to name a few things. It’s so full that two or three things share pins now. Which means it’s easy to miss the item I put up five minutes ago.
I step into Luke’s arms, the ones that circle around me without hesitation, point the small camera at us, and smile. The delicate flash goes off, then the photo slowly slips out. I hold it by the corner gently, knowing that the next sixty seconds might be the longest of my life.
“Okay, let’s pin it and get to the car. Nick is already on the plane, and I don’t want anyone touching your ciders.”
I chuckle. “I’m sure that on a plane with fancy champagne and expensive bottles of liquor, my adult apple juice will be safe. Besides, I won’t be drinking on the plane.”
He nods, kissing my temple. “Yeah, I’m not drinking either. I want to be sharp during our vows and need to make sure my breath is minty fresh for our first kiss.” His knuckles tip my chin up, his lips taking mine in a slow dance that is so effortlessly us.
He pulls back, eyes shining with happiness, then whispers, “Let’s go get married.”
I look down quickly at the developed Polaroid in my hand, then meet his gaze with a watery smile of my own. “Let’s go get married. But first, we need to put this on the wall. How do you think it turned out?”
He takes it from my fingers, and I find myself holding my breath. Until his laugh breaks me out of my nerves. “Daze, you might have to leave the picture-taking to me, you and I are barely in it. It’s mostly our faces close up, and that huge chunk of wall behind us.”
“You sure? I think I see the three of us in that photo.”
His face scrunches in confusion as he looks for the mystery person I speak of. I know the moment he sees it, because he spins around, wide-eyed, hands hovering over the most important picture on our wall, as if he’s trying to figure out if it’s okay to touch it.
The sonogram picture of our baby.
His head whips in my direction. “Is this… are we… I mean you, are you—”
“Pregnant.” I bite my lip, tears starting to run down my cheeks. “We’re pregnant.”
He drops down to his knees, hands on my still flat stomach, and leans forward to place a kiss there. “Our baby is in there?” he whispers.
I nod, wiping away my happy tears. “Looks like we brought a plus-one to our own wedding.” I laugh shakily.
“Our baby. You’re pregnant with… our baby. God, Daisy,” he says in wonder.
“I went in yesterday for my annual checkup with my gynecologist. When my doctor walked into the room, she asked me how my first trimester symptoms were treating me. I had no idea the urine sample I’d given before I walked into the room would test positive for pregnancy.
I haven’t been puking, which is the only symptom I generally relate to pregnancy.
And my birth control allows me to skip my periods, so not having one is normal for me. Hence, how I missed all the signs.”
“But you’ve been tired—no, exhausted.” He shoots back up to his feet and places his large hands on my cheek. “Are you okay? Is that normal?”
I smile. “Yes, it’s very normal. I thought it was all the extra hours I was putting in at work after Hot Mic went viral. Turns out, I was actually a tired mama-to-be. I’m perfectly fine, and so is our baby. We hit the twelve-week mark two days ago.”
“Okay, that’s good. I have no idea what it means, but I’m assuming it’s good.
Right? Shit, I need… books. And to take a class.
Twelve weeks, so we have what, six months left.
All right, we can do this. But we need to baby-proof this place first.” He points erratically at the living room.
“That coffee table has pointy edges, so that’s got to go.
And, uh, plugs. Damn, I’ve never realized how many plugs we have in this house. We need—”
“To go get married. Or have I so quickly become chopped liver?” I sigh while holding in a chuckle.
“My Daisy girl.” He leans down and kisses me thoroughly. “You’re marrying me today.”
“That’s the plan.”
“And our baby will be there.” He smiles widely.
“And our families. Blood related and otherwise. The family and the love I’ve always dreamed of.”
He nods. “I’ve always dreamed of you. And now you’ve given me permission to dream for more. For our little family.”
I huff out a breath. “Okay it’s my wedding day and I’m pregnant, so take it easy on my emotions, will ya?”
He laughs as he takes my hands and leads me out the door, but not before pinning our photo and bringing the sonogram image with us.
We say I do as the sun sets over the mountains, casting us in a kaleidoscope of vibrant colors.
I make funny faces while Luke whispers inappropriate jokes in my ear as we’re taking our professional photos, causing me to belly-laugh throughout the whole thing.
We sneak kisses during the speeches and roll our eyes playfully when it’s Nick turn on the mic and Luisa has to pry it out of his hands.
And when we’ve eaten more than we can handle, danced until we’ve lost track of our shoes, and cried more tears of happiness after announcing our pregnancy to the room brimming with love, we start to make our grand exit.
Luke loosens his tie as he smiles down at me.
I hop in his truck and wave at our guests who will be staying at the main house for the rest of the weekend.
“You ready to go home, wife?”
I wrap my ring-clad hand behind his neck. “If you’re driving the getaway car? Always.”
And off we go down the smoothly paved road leading back down to the bottom of the mountain.
Where he’ll carry me over the threshold once again.
To our secret hideaway. The one that finally has an address.
On 7 Daisy Lane.