Chapter 18
Nate
I’ve faced death. I’ve stood in burning buildings, heard ceilings crack above my head, felt the blistering heat of flames licking at my back. And yet nothing—nothing—has ever made my hands shake like this.
I pace the length of the room, again and again, trying to tame the wild rhythm of my heart.
It’s like a ticking bomb under my ribs. I glance at the clock.
Time is crawling, slower than I thought possible.
I need to see her. I need to look into Isabel’s eyes and remind myself this is real.
That she chose me. That somehow, after everything, I get to call her mine.
“Dude,” Sebastian’s voice breaks through my spiral “you’re going to wear a hole in the floor.”
I stop, pressing a hand to my chest. “I can’t calm down.”
Sebastian throws himself into a chair, legs stretched out, his posture the exact opposite of mine—relaxed, teasing, obnoxiously at ease. “Big tough army hero can’t handle a little wedding?” he grins. “I’ve seen you run into buildings with more chill than you have right now.”
“Shut up,” I mutter, tugging at my tie. It feels too tight, like it’s strangling me, but I know it’s not the tie—it’s the weight of everything. The moment. The love.
“Want me to go out and start a small fire? Or maybe ask K to shoot at someone?” he smirks, wiggling his brows like the devil himself. The worst part? I know he means it. And K, his shadow of a bodyguard, would probably hand him the lighter and load the damn gun.
I narrow my eyes. “I’m just waiting for your turn to come,” I fire back, voice like ice. “And when it does, I’m going to savor every damn second of giving you hell for it.”
“Okay, okay,” he chuckles, throwing up his hands. “Seriously, man. You’ve got this. She loves you. You love her. You’re basically living the dream. Why the hell are you acting like you’re about to puke?”
“Because this isn’t just a wedding.” I finally stop. My voice is raw. “It’s her. And I don’t want to screw this up. I’ve made a mess of so many things in my life, Sebastian. And now the mission is looming and this… Isabel… She’s the one thing I want to get right.”
He quiets at that, nodding with more sincerity now. “Then you will and she will wait for you.”
But the knot in my chest doesn’t loosen.
The door creaks open and my mom steps in. She’s glowing—elegant in her dress, eyes misty the moment she looks at me.
“Nathan,” she says softly, her voice full of awe, “you’re so handsome.”
I offer her a strained smile. “Thanks, Mom. Have you seen Isabel?”
A knowing smile curves her lips. “Yes, and she’s breathtaking. Absolutely radiant.” She steps closer and slips something into my hand. “Actually, Isabel told me to give you this.”
It’s an envelope. I stare at it for a beat before ripping it open, my hands suddenly clumsy. Inside, a single line written in her unmistakable handwriting:
‘A life by your side is all I’m dreaming of because I’m madly in love with you.’
My breath catches. The room vanishes. The nerves, the fear, the walls I’d unknowingly built around my heart—they all fall away in an instant. I press the letter to my lips, then fold it carefully and tuck it into the inside pocket of my dress uniform, over my heart.
“Thanks, Mom,” I whisper, voice hoarse.
She fixes my tie, smooths a hand down my jacket, then hooks her arm through mine. “Let’s go, son. It’s almost time for you to see your bride.”
And just like that, the nervousness morphs into something else—something stronger. Purpose. Love. The kind that makes your hands shake while your spine straightens.
I may be scared, but I’m ready.
I’m walking toward forever.
* * *
The church is breathtaking. Bathed in golden light, the high ceilings soar above us, adorned with intricate arches and stained glass that scatter rainbows across the aisle.
White roses and baby’s breath cascade down the pews, intertwined with soft ivory tulle that moves ever so slightly with each passing step.
It smells like hope, like something sacred. Like her.
But my chest feels tight. My palms, cold and clammy. I tug at the cuffs of my uniform for the hundredth time as I glance at the church doors.
Any minute now.
I run a hand through my hair, then down my face, trying to calm the storm inside me. This is it. No turning back, no running—not that I ever would. Not from her. But damn, my heart’s thudding so hard I wonder if the people in the front row can hear it.
“Don’t faint,” CJ, one of my army friends and colleagues, mutters beside me, just loud enough for me to hear. “He ain’t gonna catch you.”
Sebastian shrugs with that shitty smile, “Royalties don’t do heavy work.”
I chuckle, the sound short and tense. “What kind of a best man are you?”
He smirks, all swagger and mischief. “A smart one.”
They share a fist bump and I can’t help but feel less tense.
Sebastian pauses, head tilting toward the entrance. “Isabel’s getting out of the car.”
CJ voice shifts; lower, softer, filled with awe. “Oh, wow, mate. She’s… she’s gorgeous.”
I glance toward the doors on instinct, aching to see her, but I force myself to wait. The anticipation makes it worse but I can already see Dad’s disappointed stare.
“You guys are not helping,” I mutter.
Sebastian grins, not the least bit sorry. “Hey, at least I didn’t tell you I forgot the wedding rings.”
I freeze. “You what?”
He bursts out laughing and pats his pocket. “Relax. I’ve got them.”
“You absolute idiot.” I shake my head, but even that small moment makes me breathe a little easier.
Just a little. I can’t help but wonder how many rules he had to break just to be standing here today.
Royalty doesn’t play best man—hell, they’re not supposed to stand beside anyone but a throne.
And yet, here he is. Wearing the uniform like a badge of defiance, like a silent vow that some things—some people—are worth the rebellion.
Then I hear it—the soft echo of heels against stone, growing louder with every second. The guests shift in their seats. A hush ripples through the church.
I turn.
And everything stops.
There she is.
My bride.
Isabel steps through the doorway like a vision woven out of my dreams and the deepest corners of my soul.
Her dress, simple but impossibly elegant, hugs her figure and flows behind her like a whisper.
Lace trails down her arms and back, delicate and ethereal.
Her veil is sheer, giving me a glimpse of the fire and softness in her eyes.
My heart clenches. My throat burns. There’s this ache in my chest like my body’s trying to hold back a tidal wave of emotion, and losing.
She walks toward me with the grace of a woman who knows who she is—and the fragility of someone holding something precious.
Us.
This.
Everything.
When she finally reaches me, I don’t wait. I lift her veil and kiss her, soft and reverent. The guests laugh, and I hear someone whistle, but I don’t care. I needed to touch her. To prove to myself she’s real.
“You’re beautiful,” I whisper.
“So are you,” she breathes, her voice trembling with emotion.
The mass begins, but everything feels distant. A blur. I don’t hear the prayers. I don’t hear the music. All I see are her hands in mine, the way her thumb strokes the inside of my palm as if to ground me, reminding me that this is happening.
Then, finally, it’s time.
I take a breath and look into her eyes. They shine—lit from within with emotion, unshed tears, and something fierce and soft all at once.
“In faith, honesty, and love, I take you, Isabel Barlow, to be my wedded wife,” I say, voice rough but steady, “to share with you God's plan for our lives together, united in Christ. And with God's help, to strengthen and guide me, I’ll be a strong spiritual leader for us in our lives.
For better, for worse, in sickness and in health, in joys, in sorrows, until death do us part.
With this ring, I seal my vow of love to you and pray I may fulfill God's place in our home.”
She trembles. I feel it. And I want nothing more than to wrap her up in my arms and shield her from everything. I already know I’ll spend the rest of my life doing just that.
Then it’s her turn.
Her voice breaks at first, just a whisper, but she steadies.
“In faith, honesty, and love, I take you, Nathan Weister, to be my wedded husband,” she says, tears streaking her cheeks, “I pledge to share with you God's plan for our lives together, united in Christ. For better, for worse, in sickness and in health, in joys and in sorrows, until death do we part—I promise you all of this and more, with God's help to strengthen and guide me as your supportive wife.
I give you all that I have—myself and my love.
With this ring, I seal my vow of love to you and pray I may fulfill God's place in our home.”
My soul is undone. Every wall I ever had left crumbles.
“You have declared your consent before the Church,” the priest says warmly. “May the Lord in his goodness strengthen your consent and fill you both with his blessings. What God has joined, men must not divide. Amen.”
“Amen,” we say together, breathless, locked in this invisible thread only we can feel.
A beat of silence.
Then the priest grins. “Since you already kissed the bride before the ceremony, I don't suppose you want to kiss her again, do you?”
“You bet I do.”
I pull her close, the world fading away, and press my lips to hers, deep and full of everything I can’t say. All the fears, the gratitude, the love I carry—it's there, poured into that kiss.
When we part, I whisper against her mouth, my voice cracked with emotion, “I love you.”
She smiles, tears still clinging to her lashes, and whispers back, “I love you too.”
Forever starts now.