Chapter 11
Trace
The bow tie is trying to kill me.
I've been wrestling with this strip of fabric for ten minutes, and it's currently winning. In the mirror, I look less like a best man and more like someone being strangled by their own formal wear.
"Need help?" Gage asks from the doorway.
I turn around. He's already dressed—suit fitting perfectly, tie knotted like he does this every day instead of once in a lifetime. He looks calm, collected, completely unlike someone about to get married in front of their entire town.
"How are you not freaking out?" I ask, giving up on the bow tie.
"I am freaking out." He walks over and takes the tie from me. "I'm just doing it quietly."
"You're always quiet. It’s why you were such a good SEAL."
"Exactly. Now hold still."
He ties the bow tie with the kind of efficiency that makes me feel like an incompetent toddler. Within thirty seconds, it's perfect.
"How did you—"
"YouTube," he admits. "Watched seven videos on this last night."
"You prepared for tying a bow tie?"
"I always prepare for everything." He steps back and adjusts his own tie in the mirror. "Vows memorized. Rings in my pocket. Escape route planned in case I pass out."
"You're not going to pass out."
"Probably not. But I have a plan just in case."
I laugh and grab my jacket from the chair. We're getting ready in one of the back rooms at the small chapel Tessa fell in love with—white wood, stained glass windows, enough seating for maybe fifty people. It's simple and perfect, exactly like them.
"You nervous?" I ask.
"Terrified," he says. Then he grins. "But in a good way. You know?"
"Not really."
"You will." He claps me on the shoulder. "When you stop being an idiot and tell Patrice how you feel."
"We've been through this."
"And we'll keep going through it until you actually do something about it, Soldier." He checks his watch. "Ceremony starts in twenty minutes. You ready?"
"To watch my best friend get married? Yeah. I'm ready."
"Good. Because if I'm doing this, you're standing up there with me."
“I got your six, Captain.”
We head out to the main chapel. People are already arriving—familiar faces from town, a few of Tessa's friends from Florida, Gage's mom looking elegant and emotional in the front row.
The florist is making last-minute adjustments to the arrangements, and someone's testing the sound system with what I think is supposed to be classical music but sounds more like a cat being slowly murdered by a violin.
I take my place at the front next to Gage. He's gone completely still, hands clasped in front of him, staring at the back doors like he's trying to will Tessa into existence through sheer force of concentration.
"She'll be here," I say quietly.
"I know." But his jaw is tight.
"She's not going to run."
"I know that too." He takes a breath. "Doesn't stop the small part of my brain that's convinced this is all a dream and I'm going to wake up alone in my cabin."
"It's not a dream."
"Yeah." He finally looks at me. "It's better."
The music shifts—less dying cat, more actual wedding processional—and the doors at the back open.
And there she is.
Patrice.
She's walking in with the other guests, but I barely notice anyone else.
She's wearing the emerald green dress she bought yesterday, and it fits her perfectly.
The fabric drapes over her pregnant belly in a way that's somehow both elegant and adorable.
Her hair is up, her face is glowing, and when she catches me staring, she smiles.
My heart does something stupid and acrobatic in my chest.
I should look away. I should focus on the ceremony. But I can't stop watching her as she finds a seat three rows back, carefully settling herself with one hand on her stomach. She wanted to be the Maid Of Honor, but she couldn’t stand that long.
"You're staring," Gage mutters.
"Shut up."
"You're going to burn a hole through her with your eyes."
"I said shut up."
He grins, and then the music changes again. Everyone stands.
Tessa appears at the back of the chapel, and Gage goes completely still beside me. She's beautiful—simple white dress, flowers in her hair, smile so bright it could power the entire town. She's holding a bouquet and walking toward us like this is the easiest thing she's ever done.
Gage's hand grips the edge of the podium so hard his knuckles go white.
"Breathe," I whisper.
"Right. Breathing. Good idea."
Tessa reaches the front, and the way Gage looks at her makes my throat tight. Like she's the only person in the world. Like he can't quite believe she's real and choosing him and about to become his wife.
The officiant—a kind-looking woman in her sixties who I'm pretty sure also runs the library—smiles at the crowd.
"Please, be seated," she says.
Everyone sits. I stay standing next to Gage, who hasn't taken his eyes off Tessa.
The ceremony is short and sweet. Traditional vows with a few personal touches that make people laugh and cry in equal measure. When Gage says, "I do," his voice is steady and sure. When Tessa says it, she's grinning and crying at the same time.
They exchange rings. They kiss. Everyone cheers.
And I can't stop thinking about permanence.
About choosing someone and being chosen. About standing in front of people you love and promising forever. About building a life together instead of just existing in parallel.
I glance at Patrice. She's wiping her eyes with a tissue, smiling through tears. Her hand rests on her stomach, and even from here I think I can see the baby moving.
That's my kid. Our kid.
And I want this. Not just the baby, but everything. The ceremony, the promises, the forever. I want to stand where Gage is standing, and watch Patrice walk toward me. I want to put a ring on her finger and hear her say yes.
I've never wanted that before. With anyone.
But with her? I want it so much that it physically hurts.
The ceremony ends with the officiant pronouncing them married, and Gage kisses Tessa again while everyone applauds. They walk back down the aisle together, grinning like idiots, and I follow with Marnie, who keeps dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief.
"That was beautiful," she sniffles.
"It was," I agree.
"You're next, you know," she says, patting my arm. "Whole town's talking about it."
"About what?"
"You and Patrice. When you're going to make it official."
I blink. "We're not—"
"Honey, everyone can see how you look at each other. It's only a matter of time." She winks and heads off to congratulate the happy couple.
I stand there, slightly stunned, until someone jostles me and I realize people are filing out toward the reception.
Right. Reception. Off to Moosehead Lodge.
The drive to Moosehead Lodge takes ten minutes, and by the time I arrive, the parking lot is already full.
The lodge looks great. Jake really went all out—string lights everywhere, tables set up with white linens, a makeshift dance floor in the corner. The bar is fully stocked, and there's enough food to feed the entire town twice over.
Gage and Tessa are already there, greeting guests and looking disgustingly happy. I make my way over.
"Congratulations," I say, pulling Gage into a hug. "You did it, man."
"We did it," he corrects, looking at Tessa.
"Still can't believe you two got married before Trace even asked Patrice out properly," Jake calls from behind the bar.
"Jake," I warn.
"What? It's true. You've been mooning over her for months."
"I have not been mooning."
"You absolutely have," Tessa says, grinning. "It's very sweet. Also, very obvious."
"Can we focus on your wedding instead of my nonexistent love life?"
"Your love life isn't nonexistent," Gage says. "You're just too stubborn to do anything about it."
Before I can respond, Patrice walks in.
She's taken off the shawl she wore to the ceremony, and the dress looks even better now. She spots me and waves, making her way over with careful steps.
"Hey," she says when she reaches us. "Beautiful ceremony. You two look really happy."
"We are," Tessa says, pulling her into a gentle hug. "Thanks for being here. It means a lot."
"Wouldn't miss it." Patrice smiles at Gage. "Congratulations. You're officially stuck with her now."
"Best decision I ever made," he says simply.
"Okay, you two are adorable and it's making me nauseous," Patrice says, but she's smiling. "Where's the food? I'm starving."
"Over there," I say, pointing to the buffet table. "Want me to get you a plate?"
"I can get my own plate."
"I know you can. But you don't have to."
She looks at me for a long moment, something soft in her eyes. "Okay. Thanks."
I load up two plates—one for her, one for me—while she finds a table. By the time I get back, she's already been cornered by Old Jim, who's telling her some long story about ice fishing that she's politely pretending to find interesting.
"Help me," she mouths when she sees me.
I set the plates down and slide into the seat next to her. "Jim, you're monopolizing the prettiest woman at the wedding."
"Besides the bride," Patrice corrects.
"Including the bride," I state.
Jim laughs and wanders off to find another victim. Patrice immediately starts eating, making little appreciative noises that remind me of yesterday's egg incident at breakfast. It’s been the same sound with each meal I’ve made her.
"Good?" I ask.
"So good. I don't know what Jake did to this salmon, but it's incredible."
We eat and watch as the reception gets into full swing. Gage and Tessa cut the cake—a small, simple thing with wildflowers on top. They feed each other pieces without smashing it into each other's faces, which Tessa declared was "uncivilized" during the planning.
Then the dancing starts.
Their first dance is to some slow country song that makes everyone sway and smile. They move together easily, Gage's hand firm on Tessa's back, her head resting on his shoulder. It's simple and perfect and makes me want things I didn't know I wanted six months ago.