Epilogue #2
“I didn’t even have a vision board,” I say, twisting to face her. “I had a panic disorder and a Pinterest account.”
She laughs, then grabs both my hands, her tone dipping softly. “You built this entire life. From a dream and hard work to a flagship spa in Palm Beach. Now Nordstrom. And Parker.”
She trails off, eyes a little glossy. I pretend not to notice because I don’t need anything else making me emotional today.
“I know,” I say. “It’s a lot.”
“It’s everything,” she says. “And you earned every inch of it.”
Jenna pulls a piece of fuzz from my veil, then steps back, eyes scanning me like she’s memorizing it.
“You ready to give everyone we’ve all been dreaming about for the last eighteen months?”
I nod once, without any hesitation. “Hell yeah, I’m ready.”
A knock at the door breaks the moment. “Ten minutes,” Kelsey, the wedding planner, calls from outside the room.
Jenna exhales like she’s been holding it all in. “Okay. It’s showtime, beautiful.”
I catch her wrist before she turns. “Hey. Thanks for surviving the first round with me. I couldn’t have done all of this without you.”
She grins. “Round one was a wild ride.”
Then her voice softens. “I can’t wait to see what you two do next. You can’t get rid of me, you know that, right? I’ll always be here for you.”
She squeezes my hand once before heading for the door and disappearing to join the rest of the wedding party for their procession.
The door clicks shut behind her, and then it opens again before I have a moment to catch my breath.
“Adair?” It’s Kelsey. She’s calm, clipboard in one hand, headset slightly askew. “It’s go-time.”
I nod, suddenly breathless. “Okay. I’m good. I’m?—”
“You’re golden,” she cuts in gently, smiling. “Deep breath. Just like rehearsal yesterday. We’ll walk to the top of the aisle, Cam meets you there, then magic.”
I follow her down the hall, the sound of the quartet swelling as we near the doors. My dress swishes against the floor. My heart’s playing double-time in my chest.
She pauses before the entrance, then turns to me one last time. “You’ve got this. And for what it’s worth?” She gives me a quick wink. “He looked wrecked the second he saw the aisle. In a good way.”
I laugh. “Fantastic. Wreck him.”
“That’s the spirit.”
She slips away with professional stealth, leaving me at the threshold.
I take one breath, adjust my veil, and step forward.
The door swings open, and everything stops.
Well, not everything. The string quartet’s doing a slowed-down cover of “Shut Up and Dance,” because I’m still me. We can't be all stuffy.
My brain short-circuits the second I step into view.
Dozens of faces turn. Some teary, some smiling, all watching. Bets, Hattie, Samual Taylor. I spot Cam’s husband holding their baby near the front.
The aisle is lined with low florals and flickering votives, the scent of jasmine and citrus filling the air. A breeze sneaks through the open balcony doors behind the altar, ruffling the gauzy drape of my veil .
Cam glances over, his arm steady under mine. “You're stunning. Let’s do this.”
I nod, but my throat’s too tight to speak.
He smirks. “You’re not allowed to faint. You’d crush the dress and destroy your brand. Very bad PR.”
That earns a huff-laugh from me. “You’re lucky I love you.”
“Extremely. But also, you look like you’re about to fly.” His voice drops. “Let’s get you home.”
The music shifts, a beat of silence between verses, and we take our first step.
The marble tiles echo under my bedazzled sneakers that are hiding under my floor-length gown. Each step forward is weightless and grounded all at once.
I keep my eyes locked on the man at the end of the aisle. Parker stands tall with his hands clasped in front of him. His stone-colored suit and crisp white shirt accentuate his blue eyes.
The clean shave and that look, like I’m the only thing that exists in the whole damn room, makes every fiber in my body go into overdrive.
Halfway down, I see it—the small quirk of his mouth. The dimple in his chin. The soft gleam in his eyes says he’s not just ready. It says he’s mine.
He’s always been mine.
This dress, the aisle, and the flowers are just the part where everyone else catches up.
Cam leans in as we approach and whispers in my ear. “Want me to say something emotional or crack a joke?”
“Definitely a joke.”
He leans close, voice low, while we walk. “If he pulls out another contract, I’ll demand a signing bonus on your behalf. ”
I snort, the sound echoing off the tall ceilings and making a few guests in the front row smile.
Jenna, standing tall at the altar in a deep green slip dress, dabs under one eye with all the grace of a bulldozer.
When we reach the rest of the wedding party, Cam stands with me, his arm still locked in mine.
The officiant smiles and asks, “Who gives this woman to be married today?”
Cam looks at me, his voice steady. “I do, with honor.”
He presses a kiss to my cheek and murmurs just for me, “Proud of you.”
Then he steps back, taking his seat with his family, and I’m left facing the only man who’s ever made me believe in forever.
Parker’s voice dips low as I reach him. “This beats the courthouse, huh?”
I arch a brow. “Fewer filing cabinets.”
He grins. “Better lighting. Same beautiful bride, though.”
“Somehow you keep getting better than age.” I glance down, then back up at him. “Though you did wear a tie that day.”
He slips his fingers through mine. “Gotta keep you on your toes.”
The officiant clears her throat, trying not to smile. That’s our cue to step out of our little bubble and join everyone else for the ceremony.
“Adair and Parker have chosen to write their vows.”
Parker turns to me, clears his throat, and gives me that crooked half-smile that always spells trouble. Or, love.
“I didn’t expect the best thing in my life to start with a contract, a technicality, and a massage I’m still convinced was a setup. ”
Laughter rolls through the crowd.
“But I’d do it all again, to end up with you.”
He breathes in, steady now.
“You’re the most brilliant, maddening, mesmerizing woman I’ve ever met.
You push me, ground me, and somehow make me better without even trying.
You make me want to be better. I dragged you into a storm of contracts, headlines, and complications, and you stayed anyway. That choice changed everything for me.”
His hands tighten gently around mine.
“I promise to love you with everything I’ve got. To listen when it matters. To argue fairly, unless you’re wrong, in which case I reserve the right to cite sources.”
More laughter.
“I vow to protect your heart like it’s my own. And to never forget what it means to be loved by you.”
I blink fast. My eyes sting, and my nose does that awful pre-cry tingle I can’t stop.
“Adair?”
I square up, heart pounding, but I'm resolved to project a clear voice. These are the most important words I've ever spoken.
"I never thought I'd be married twice by the time I was thirty."
That gets a loud chuckle.
“But here we are. Real vows. Real dress. Real feelings. And real witnesses.”
Parker’s shoulders shake with quiet laughter. I smile, then let it soften.
“You started as a strategy, a calculated risk I took with my head.”
I pause, eyes locked on his.
“But somewhere between fake vows and real mornings, between sales pitches and beach walks, I stopped thinking. ”
I squeeze his hands.
“And I fell. Hard. With everything I had.”
“I vow to choose you. On the loud days, the slow days, the days when we’re too tired to do anything but order takeout and watch reruns.
I’ll call you on your crap, cheer for your wild ideas, and make you laugh when you need it most. I promise to be all in, loudly, stubbornly, joyfully, all the days of our lives. ”
The officiant smiles softly. “Adair and Parker, you’ve chosen each other with open hearts and honest words. In front of the people who love you, and the ones who still can't believe you're doing this twice—” a wave of laughter rolls through the crowd, “—you've made promises that matter.”
She pauses, letting it land.
“So now, by the power vested in me by the state of Florida and this wildly entertained wedding party, I pronounce you husband and wife.”
The tears flow, I can’t hold back the flood gates any longer.
“You may now kiss your bride.”
He dips his head, lips brushing mine like we’ve got all the time in the world.
But we don’t.
Because the second our mouths meet, the room erupts. Cheers. Whistles. Someone, probably Cam, yells, “About damn time!”
I’m grinning too hard to kiss properly.
He presses his forehead to mine. “Let’s go celebrate this chaos properly so I can take you home and consummate this once and for all.”
“Excellent idea.”
He grabs my hand and we turn together. He raises our hands to the crowd .
We're married, officially this time. As a new song swells through the speakers, we head down the aisle again, this time with laughter behind us and a future waiting on the dance floor.
We pause behind the French doors just off the garden courtyard, where the reception is already set. String lights glow overhead, and tables glitter with gold-rimmed glasses.
Someone queues up the music.
He pulls me to the side, tugs me in by the waist like he’s been waiting all damn day to touch me.
“Hey.”
My breathing stalls. “Hey.”
His fingers tighten at my hips. “Do you have any idea how hard it was not to kiss you during those vows?”
I lift my chin, smirking as his mouth hovers close. “I was trying so hard not to make it obvious I wanted the same thing.”
His forehead rests against mine, warm and steady. His breath brushes my lips, soft and unhurried.
“I loved everything you said,” he murmurs. “You’re amazing, Mrs. Matthews.”
“You’re smitten.”
“I am,” he says, voice low and rough. “Gonna be a problem.”
“I’m not complaining, Dr. Matthews.”