Epilogue Part One Jay
One year later.
I'm standing in the bathroom of Rosalyn's house, staring at myself in the mirror while trying to remember how to breathe.
The man looking back at me is someone I barely recognize.
Clean-shaven, with my hair combed properly.
Wearing a charcoal gray suit that Ivan helped me pick out after trying on what felt like fifty different ones.
The shirt underneath is crisp white, the nicest thing I've ever owned in my life.
There's a small blue flower pinned to my lapel—a forget-me-not, because Ivan has a sense of humor about these things and wanted to make me cry before the ceremony even started.
In twenty minutes, I'm getting married.
The thought makes my chest tight, makes it hard to pull in air. But it's not the bad kind of tight—not the way it used to get when I was panicking, when the walls were closing in and I needed a drink just to function.
This is different.
This is the kind of tight that comes from holding in too much joy and love. From a heart that's trying to expand beyond its capacity to contain everything I'm feeling today.
A knock on the door makes me jump.
"Jay? You okay in there, honey?" Rosalyn calls out in her maternal voice that always makes me feel safe.
"Yeah. Yeah, I'm okay. Just... give me a minute. Just one more minute."
"Take your time, sweetheart. But not too much time. Caleb is about to explode with excitement, and I can only contain that much energy for so long before something breaks."
I laugh despite my nerves, and some of the tension eases in my shoulders. "I'll be right out. I promise."
"I'm holding you to that." I hear her footsteps retreat down the hallway, and I turn back to the mirror.
A little over a year ago, I was living in a motel room with nothing—no family, no future, no hope that things would ever get better. I was just existing, just breathing, waiting for the next disaster.
Now I have everything.
I have fourteen months of sobriety. Fourteen months, one day at a time, one hour at a time sometimes, of choosing to live instead of choosing to disappear. Of choosing to feel everything instead of numbing it all away.
And I have Ivan.
I've always had Ivan, even when I didn't know where he was, even when we were separated. He was always there, somewhere in the world, holding onto the promise we made in that barn.
Remember my name.
I close my eyes and let the words wash over me, feeling their weight. In a few minutes, I'm going to stand in front of the people who matter most and say those words out loud. I'm going to make a new promise, one that builds on the old one, one that carries us forward into whatever comes next.
I take one more deep breath, straighten my tie in the mirror, and open the door.
The house is chaos in the best possible way.
Rosalyn is in the kitchen, arranging something elaborate on a silver platter. She's wearing a deep purple dress that makes her look like royalty, her dark hair pinned up with small white flowers tucked throughout. When she sees me, her whole face breaks into a radiant smile.
"There he is. The man of the hour." She sets down the platter carefully and crosses to me, taking my face in both her hands the way she does. "You look so handsome, Jay. So incredibly handsome. Ivan is going to lose his mind when he sees you."
"I hope that's a good thing."
"It's a very good thing. Trust me." She kisses my cheek tenderly, then steps back, her eyes bright with unshed tears. "I'm so happy for you both. You know that, right? From the moment Ivan first told me about you, when he said he was searching for someone from his past—I knew you were special."
"Rosalyn..." My voice cracks completely, and I have to stop, have to swallow past the lump in my throat.
"None of that now. Save your tears for the ceremony.
You'll need them then." She pats my cheek affectionately and turns back to the kitchen.
"Now go outside. The girls need your help with the chairs, and if I don't give them something to do, they're going to start arguing about flower arrangements again. "
I walk through the living room and out the back door, and my breath catches sharply in my throat.
The backyard has been completely transformed.
White folding chairs are arranged in two neat sections with a wide aisle down the middle, maybe thirty seats in total.
String lights hang from the massive oak tree in the corner, looping gracefully across to the fence on the other side, creating a canopy of soft golden light even though it's still afternoon.
There are flowers everywhere—white roses and blue forget-me-nots and sprigs of fresh greenery—in mason jars lining the aisle, in elaborate arrangements on the small table at the front where we'll sign the marriage certificate.
And there, at the end of the aisle, is an arch made of white-painted wood, wrapped lovingly in more greenery and flowers. It's simple, clearly handmade, imperfect in all the right ways.
Diana and Destiny are positioning the last few chairs, arguing about spacing with the intensity of engineers.
"They're supposed to be even," Diana insists, measuring with her eyes, stepping back to check. "This one is like two inches closer than the others. Maybe three inches."
"Nobody's going to notice two inches," Destiny counters, hands on her hips. "We've been doing this for an hour. It's fine."
"It's not fine. It's Jay and Ivan's wedding. Everything has to be absolutely perfect."
"Girls," I call out, walking toward them. "It looks amazing. Really, truly amazing."
They both turn, and their faces light up like Christmas morning.
"Jay!" Diana abandons the chair spacing debate immediately and runs toward me. She's wearing a pale blue dress with a delicate ribbon at the waist, her dark hair braided beautifully with small white flowers woven throughout. "You look so fancy! Like a movie star!"
"So do you. Both of you." I look at Destiny, who's in a matching dress, her braids pinned up in an elaborate crown around her head. "You both look absolutely beautiful."
"Mom did our hair," Destiny says, touching her braids self-consciously. "It took forever. Like, an hour for each of us. But I guess it looks okay."
"It looks way more than okay. It looks perfect."
"That's what I said about the chairs," Diana mutters, shooting her sister a pointed look.
"The chairs are perfect too," I assure her, looking around at everything they've done. "Everything is perfect. You've all worked so incredibly hard on this."
"We wanted it to be special," Diana says quietly. "You're family now. Officially family. After today, you'll really be our brother. For real."
Brother. Family.
Things I never thought I'd have, never thought I deserved, things I convinced myself weren't meant for people like me. And here they are, offered freely and genuinely by two eleven-year-old girls in blue dresses who chose to love me.
"I already feel like your brother," I manage past the thickness in my throat. "The ceremony is just making it official on paper."
Diana hugs me then, fierce and tight, wrapping her arms around my waist. Destiny joins in after a moment's hesitation, and I wrap my arms around both of them and hold on tight, blinking hard against the burning in my eyes.
"Okay, okay," Destiny says after a moment, pulling back. "Don't mess up our dresses or our hair. Mom will kill us."
"Right. Sorry." I release them, wiping at my eyes with the back of my hand. "Where's Caleb? I haven't seen him yet."
"Inside, driving Mom absolutely crazy," Diana says, rolling her eyes affectionately. "He's been asking every five minutes if it's time yet. Every. Five. Minutes."
As if summoned by his name, the back door bangs open and Caleb comes flying out, Rosalyn close behind trying to catch him.
"Jay! Jay! Is it time? Is it starting? Can I get the rings now? Please?"
Caleb is wearing a tiny gray suit that matches mine perfectly, his hair slicked back with what looks like half a container of gel. He's buzzing with pure energy, clutching a small velvet pillow in both hands like it's the most precious thing in the world.
"Almost time, buddy," I tell him, crouching down to his level. "The rings are still inside, remember? In the safe spot. You'll get them right before you walk down the aisle."
"But what if I forget what to do? What if I drop them? What if I sneeze and they go flying into the grass and we can't find them?" His eyes are wide with genuine concern.
"You're not going to sneeze."
"But what if I do? What if my nose gets itchy? What if—"
I put my hands on his shoulders, making him look at me.
"Caleb, listen to me. You've practiced this a hundred times.
You know exactly what to do. You're going to walk down the aisle nice and slow, stand next to me and Ivan, and when the officiant asks for the rings, you hold out the pillow. That's it. That's the whole job."
"But it's the most important job," Caleb says. "Without the rings, you can't get married. The wedding doesn't work."
"That's true. And I can't think of anyone in the entire world I'd trust more with that responsibility."
Caleb's chest puffs up with visible pride. "Okay. I won't let you down. I promise."
"I know you won't."
Rosalyn appears beside us, her hand settling gently on Caleb's shoulder. "Guests are starting to arrive. Let's get everyone in their positions."
The next fifteen minutes are a blur of controlled activity.
The guests filter in gradually—mostly people from Ivan's world, since I don't have many of my own.
Coworkers from his job site, guys in suits who shake my hand and congratulate me.
A few neighbors from the apartment complex who we've gotten friendly with.
My sponsor and his wife, who pull me into a hug and tell me how proud they are.
My boss from the motorcycle shop, who clapped me on the back when I invited him and said he wouldn't miss it for anything in the world.