16. Vada
VADA
I wake up wrapped around Emory, listening to excited voices in the hallway, and my stomach immediately does that nervous flip thing.
Not about the wedding itself—I'm genuinely happy for Jared and Erika.
It's the formal event anxiety that's creeping in, the old corporate conditioning that makes me overthink how things look, how they might be interpreted.
"You're thinking too loud," Emory mumbles against my shoulder, his voice still rough with sleep.
"Sorry," I whisper. "Just processing that today feels... bigger somehow."
He tightens his arms around me, and I try to relax into his warmth. We've been so casual all week, but something about a formal wedding makes everything feel more official, more public. Like we're making some kind of statement just by sitting together.
Maya arrives around noon with her arsenal of hair tools, immediately picking up on my nervous energy.
"Okay, what's got you wound up?" she asks, starting to section my hair.
"I don't know. Everything's been so easy this week, but today feels different. More... watched."
Maya pauses her styling to look at me in the mirror. "Vada, you guys have been making statements all week. Today you're just wearing nicer clothes while you do it."
She's right, but formal events always trigger my anxiety about being analyzed. That stupid corporate job still gets in my head sometimes, making me second-guess everything.
"You're overthinking this," Maya observes. "Today is about celebrating Jared and Erika. You get to do that with someone who makes you happy. That's it."
When she finishes my hair—something elegant that photographs well without being attention-grabbing—I slip into my navy wrap dress. The right outfit can fix a lot of anxiety, and this one makes me feel confident without competing with the bride.
Downstairs, the resort has been transformed into something from a fairy tale. Crystal glasses catching sunlight, linens that probably cost more than my rent, flowers that belong in a museum. Erika has outdone herself.
Emory appears beside us looking incredible in his dark suit, and when his eyes travel over my dress, I feel beautiful and confident instead of nervous.
"Ready for this?" he asks, offering his arm.
"Ready to watch your ex-girlfriend marry my ex-boyfriend," I say with a laugh. "Put like that, it sounds kind of weird."
"Only if we make it weird," he says. "Which we're not going to do."
As we find our seats, I realize the formal event anxiety I was worried about isn't materializing. People are focused on the celebration, not analyzing my relationship status. A few guests mention our social media content from the week, but it's all positive and brief.
When the music changes and the processional begins, Erika appears looking absolutely radiant. Her dress catches the ocean breeze like something from a movie, but it's the pure joy on her face that takes your breath away.
Jared's reaction when he sees her makes my chest tight with emotion. The man is absolutely gone for her, his face lighting up like she's the most amazing thing he's ever seen.
"They're perfect," I whisper to Emory, reaching for his hand without thinking.
Watching Jared up there, so happy and confident, makes me feel proud of him in a way that has nothing to do with our past. He's become this wonderful man who clearly adores his bride, and seeing him so settled feels really good.
The ceremony is beautiful and personal. When Jared talks about how Erika makes him want to be the best version of himself, I feel Emory's thumb stroke across my knuckles.
When Erika promises to support Jared's dreams while building their life together, I catch myself thinking about real partnership.
"Jared," Erika says during her vows, "you make me laugh every single day, and you make me feel like I can accomplish anything. I promise to support your dreams, to be your biggest cheerleader, and to build a life with you that's full of adventure and joy."
I have to blink back tears because that's exactly what I'd want—someone who brings out the best in you while being genuinely fun to be around.
When they kiss and hundreds of iridescent bubbles start floating around them, the entire crowd erupts. It's whimsical and perfect, bubbles catching in Erika's veil like she's in a dream.
At the reception, I find myself completely relaxed.
The conversation flows easily at our table of college friends, and when someone asks about my work, I realize how comfortable I feel talking about my business now.
A year ago, I would have been second-guessing every word.
Now I can just share what I do with confidence.
"That sounds amazing," a guest says. "Do you do destination events?"
"We're starting to," Emory says before I can answer, and something about the way he says "we" makes my heart skip.
"Dance with me?" he asks when the band starts playing something slow.
Dancing with him feels as natural as everything else this week. We move together easily, and I catch myself thinking how nice it is to have a partner who knows how to lead without being pushy about it.
"Thank you," I say as the song continues.
"For what?"
"For making today easy. For being here with me without making it complicated."
"Vada," Emory says, spinning me gently, "the only thing anyone's watching is how happy you look. And that makes me happy too."
The simplicity of his response settles something in my chest that I didn't realize was tense. Sometimes I forget that not everything has to be analyzed or worried about. Sometimes things can just be good.
When Jared and Erika make their rounds thanking guests, they're both glowing despite hours of celebrating.
"Thank you so much for being here," Jared says, pulling me into a warm hug. "Having you here made everything even better."
"It was beautiful, Jared," I tell him honestly. "I'm so happy for you both."
As the evening winds down, I realize something has shifted.
Not just between Emory and me—that's been shifting all week—but in how I see myself.
I'm not the anxious woman who overthinks every interaction anymore.
I'm someone who can be genuinely happy for her ex-boyfriend, who can attend formal events without spiraling, who can trust that good things don't always need to be complicated.
"Best wedding ever," I say to Emory as we sway together during the last dance.
"Best week ever," he corrects, and I know he's thinking the same thing I am—that this whole experience has been about more than just reconnecting. It's been about discovering who we are now, separately and together.
And I really like what we've discovered.