Epilogue
E PILOGUE
The Sixth Wedding
Pineville
Two Years Later
I hadn’t made the cake myself. The photographer was fantastic, but it wasn’t Ryan.
Because it was finally our wedding, and while we could both manage other people’s weddings well enough, we had decided it would be best if we didn’t try to do too much at ours. Quinn and Noah were our matron of honor and best man. Because after all, they had definitely helped get us together. We had spent the last two years traveling and returning home intermittently. I had gotten to know Ryan’s family who had accepted me so easily.
When I asked about the feud between our families, his mother had smiled. “You’re breaking generational trauma.”
We were. In so many ways.
She had been teasing, and yet I got the feeling she had been serious too.
I didn’t invite my mother to my wedding. I sent her a card. I told her that I hadn’t wanted her fame to overwhelm the event. I knew that would make her feel good about not being invited. Which I hadn’t done to keep her happy with me. I’d done it because I didn’t need to do anything else.
I didn’t feel the need to make my wedding about her. But I understood some things about weddings then that I hadn’t before, in spite of the fact that I had been part of so many. It wasn’t actually a burden to include the people you cared for in the planning, to take them into consideration, because they were part of what made you as a couple.
At least, that was true for us.
Because the people that loved us had changed us.
It used to be fear was one of the biggest factors in my life. From Shark Week, which I still loved, to medicating to fly – which I still did sometimes because anxiety was a whole thing – to how much I let myself care about people. With all of myself now, no matter what.
Because one thing I had learned since loving Ryan was that love was worth the risk. Every single time.
Because fate worked hard, but you had to show up with love to make it matter.
We’d decided on a non-destination wedding.
Ryan and I had decided we wanted to get married at home, because for us, having a place to call home had always felt miraculous.
I looked at the empty cake platter, and the emptying dance floor, and smiled. We had done it.
Ryan wrapped his arms around me and kissed me. I finally understood. Love wasn’t about being safe. It was about knowing that no matter what happened, you had someone who would always be with you. Someone who would care for you, as you cared for them.
“I’m not afraid of change anymore,” I whispered against his lips.
“You aren’t?”
I shook my head. “No. Look at all the amazing things change has brought me so far. It made my nemesis into the love of my life.”
He smiled. “Oh Poppy, it was always love. We just had to stop looking at the bad things, and look at the view instead.”
I knew if my gran were here she would tell us both we’d done all right.
And that was the perfect ending for me.