Epilogue 1 #2
I rest there a second longer, overwhelmed by everything. By her, by this tiny life that’s ours, by the sheer impossibility of how much I love them both.
Then I glance up at her, eyes locked on mine. “You still need me to make it official before you believe I’m yours?”
She shakes her head, tears slipping quietly down her cheeks. “I never needed the vows, Sam. Just you.”
I crawl up and kiss them from her skin, one by one. “Then you’ll have both.”
A loud knock has us both groaning.
Phern calls out, “We’re getting this place insulated while you’re on your honeymoon.”
“Go away,” I call back.
“No. And, Charlotte, you wanted me to remind you that the dress will bring Sam to his knees.”
Charlie sighs. “She’s right. You’re going to cry so hard when you see me in it.”
I grin. “Is that so? Well, I guess we better get up and get dressed.”
She stretches like a cat, completely unbothered by the fact that she’s still mostly naked and glowing like she just won the lottery.
“You better cry, Sam. I mean full-on ugly cry. I earned it.”
I chuckle, reaching for my pants. “If I do, it’s your fault. You broke me first.”
She laughs softly, brushing fingers through her hair. I step behind her, kissing the back of her shoulder, and she hums in that way that makes me want to ditch the whole ceremony and marry her right here, barefoot and wild.
But another knock comes—three sharp taps.
“Five minutes!” Tish’s voice now. “And someone please open a damn window in there, it probably smells like sex and candles.”
Charlie snorts. “She’s not wrong.”
“I regret nothing,” I mutter, pulling on my shirt.
She’s tying the sash on her robe when she glances over her shoulder, eyes soft. “You sure about this, Sam?”
I walk over, hands settling low on her hips, pulling her close. “You’re the only thing I’ve ever been sure of.”
Her breath catches but this time, it’s not about lust. It’s love, raw and wide open between us.
I kiss her again, quick but deep, then step back. “See you at the end of the aisle, darlin’. Don’t keep me waiting too long.”
She smirks. “Try not to pass out when you see me.”
And with that, I’m out the door with my heart pounding, grin in place, and more ready than I’ve ever been in my life.
The music shifts and a breathless silence settles over the crowd. The kind you only get right before the rest of your life begins. I’m standing at the altar, every part of me braced and buzzing. My fingers flex at my sides. My heart? Hell, it’s a drumline in my chest.
And then the doors open.
And I forget how to breathe.
There she is.
Charlotte.
My bride.
She steps into the room like it was made for her, light pooling around her like it knows who she is.
Her dress—Jesus, that dress—clings to her in all the right places, silk and lace and something ethereal.
Her bump is framed just right beneath the empire waist, her shoulders bare, her collarbone kissed with a hint of shimmer.
Her hair is pinned up, soft curls falling loose like she just rolled out of bed and made the sunrise jealous. And her eyes? Locked on me.
I feel it happen, just like she said I would. My knees go weak. Not from nerves. From knowing. This woman is mine. Has been from the second she showed up during the middle of a flood.
Tish is crying. Phern’s wiping her face with one of those tissues she always pretends she doesn’t carry.
But me?
I’m still frozen in place, jaw tight, chest full. And when she reaches the end of the aisle, her hand slipping into mine, it’s like a spark jumps between us.
“You okay?” she whispers, eyes dancing.
“Ask me again after I make you my wife.”
She grins, and just like that, we turn to the officiant together, fingers intertwined, hearts already there.
When it’s my turn for the vows, I turn to her. I clear my throat, but my voice still comes out thick.
“Charlotte Diana Wilson. You wrecked my plans from the second you walked back into my life. And thank God for it.”
A soft laugh ripples through the crowd.
“I thought I knew what love was. I thought I understood devotion. But then you showed me what it really looks like. To fight for someone even when they’re impossible, to stay even when things get messy, to love without rules or limits or timelines.”
Her eyes are already shining. Mine? Probably worse.
“I’ve watched you chase truth and bravery in every hard choice you’ve made. You carry storms and light and grace like they were stitched into your skin. And somehow, you chose me.”
I pause, swallowing hard.
“I promise to never make you doubt that choice. I’ll stand by you in the chaos and the quiet. I’ll hold your hand when you’re strong. When you’re tired, I’ll hold you up. I’ll love you when you’re radiant. I’ll love you when you're stubborn. I’ll even love you when you steal the blankets.”
She laughs, blinking fast.
“I vow to be the man who deserves this life we’re building. To protect it. To protect you. Always. Even if that means crying during Disney movies with our kid.”
A soft aww from somewhere in the back.
I reach out and brush her thumb with mine. “I love you, Charlie. And I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life proving it.”
She takes a slow breath, eyes locked on mine. Her voice trembles at first, but it doesn’t break.
“Sam Joseph Stone, I never planned for you. I wasn’t looking for forever. I was just looking to survive.” She smiles, a little crooked, a little teary. “But then you showed up. And suddenly, surviving wasn’t enough. I wanted everything. With you.”
A tear slips down her cheek, and I’m dying not to wipe it.
“You see me. Not the version of me people want, or expect, but me. Messy, moody, madly in love. And you never asked me to be anything else.” Her hand finds my chest. “You let me belong. And more than that. You made me feel safe in it.”
She lets out a breath that sounds like a laugh and a sob at once.
“I promise to never take that for granted. I’ll argue with you when it matters.
I’ll fight for us when it counts. I’ll make you soup when you’re sick and kiss you like I mean it every single day.
Even when we’re old. Even when you snore. ”
I grin through the ache in my chest.
“And I promise that no matter how hard life gets, no matter how loud the world gets I will always come back to you. You and me and this tiny wild thing we’ve made,” she rests her hand on her belly, “we’re yours. Always.”
The officiant pauses to let us both breathe but we don’t. We just look at each other, like the whole world shrank down to a pair of promises and two people brave enough to keep them.
The officiant’s voice is steady, but my heart’s hammering so loud I barely hear anything but the final line.
“By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife.”
A beat. A heartbeat.
“You may kiss your bride.”
I don’t hesitate.
My hands are already on her waist, pulling her close as she laughs through tears. And then my mouth is on hers.
It’s not polite. It’s not practiced. It’s not even remotely appropriate for the guest list we’ve got watching.
But it’s us.
Hot, full of relief and promise and the kind of love that doesn’t need words anymore. Her hands fist in my jacket, pulling me closer as if we weren’t already welded together. She tastes like forever, and I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of her.
The crowd cheers, but it’s background noise. Distant and soft, like the world has been turned down so we can stay here just a second longer, lost in this moment .
When we finally break apart, we’re both breathless, flushed, and grinning like fools.
“Hi, husband,” she whispers.
I brush my thumb along her cheekbone. “Hey there, wife.”
Then I kiss her again because once? Once is never enough.