Chapter 58
Chapter Fifty-Eight
CAMERON
Four Months Later
The difference between marrying Tally and what would have been marrying Willow couldn't be more stark.
With Willow, every morning felt like waking up to dread.
I'd lie there staring at the ceiling, mentally rehearsing the pep talk I needed just to make it through another day of our engagement.
"Just get through the ceremony," I'd tell myself.
"The feelings will follow." When Roman confessed how he'd been counting down the days until he could make Lilith his wife, how he couldn't sleep from excitement, I had nothing to say.
The truth hung between us—he'd always seen through my relationship with Willow.
My other brothers adored her, naturally. However, Dad, who liked Willow well enough on paper, would get this look sometimes. Nothing you could point to, just a flicker of something uncertain when he watched us together. I think he knew what Roman knew.
I finally understand Roman's impatience before he married Lilith.
Every morning I wake up with this ache in my chest, counting the days until Tally becomes my wife.
I want it yesterday. I want it now. That's how it should feel, right?
When you've found the one person who completes you.
And Tally—tattoos, sharp tongue, trust issues and all—is undeniably mine.
Sometimes I catch myself in cold sweats thinking about the near miss.
If Tally hadn't gotten lost in those woods.
.. Christ. I'd have gone through with the wedding to Willow instead.
In that shadow life, I'd only see Brinley on weekends and holidays.
I'd pass Tally in hallways, at birthday parties, at school events—always keeping a respectful distance while something essential inside me withered.
I’ve treated patients with phantom limb pain.
That's what life without Tally would be—a constant ache for something vital that's missing.
I'd be trapped in the worst possible scenario: waking up beside someone I settled for while dreaming of the woman carrying my child across town.
Half-alive. Half-dead. Wanting what I couldn't have while having what I didn't want.
And Willow... well, she's doing fine. Last I heard, she found another pediatric oncologist to date—someone who understands her crazy schedule, her dedication.
My buddy in radiology says they're practically inseparable.
Maybe he's the one she was meant for all along.
I genuinely hope she's happy. Surprisingly, she seems to harbor no ill feelings about me walking away the day of our wedding.
The proof arrived yesterday: sterling silver champagne flutes with our names and wedding date engraved on them. Classy move, Willow. Always classy.
Of course, Tally has called the shots on the wedding, and what she wants is a cool breeze of relief washing over me.
She wants it all low-key, which is sweet, sweet music to my ears, because the thought of planning another wedding like the one I planned with Willow…
I'd sooner scoop out my eyeballs with a rusty spoon while sitting in a bathtub full of lemon juice.
It was excruciating enough doing that once, even though Asher handled most of the details with his color-coded spreadsheets and minute-by-minute timelines because that's his thing.
But if Tally wanted something elaborate - the five-star catering with those tiny appetizers nobody can identify, the premium open bar with signature cocktails named after us, the six-tier fondant masterpiece, the photographers stalking our every move, the sprawling mansion with crystal chandeliers, the cascading exotic flowers flown in from three continents, the rehearsal dinner that costs more than my first car, endless showers where people play ridiculous games, overseas bachelor parties, and all the other trappings of wedding insanity, then I would've done it all with a smile plastered on my face.
Because it's Tally with her wild laugh and constellation of freckles across her nose, and I'd walk barefoot through a mile of burning coals for her.
Still, I'm beyond thrilled to do exactly what she wants, which is to rent out that industrial art gallery downtown with the exposed brick walls, make sure everybody wears whatever the hell they want - including the two of us, although I plan on wearing my favorite light blue button-down that she says brings out my eyes, that herringbone tweed jacket with leather elbow patches, and those black pants she can't keep her hands off me in.
And she'll be wearing that black skirt that hugs every curve, that vibrant top with delicate lace sleeves that showcase her tattoos perfectly, and the necklace I bought her so many months ago, giving it to her right before I left for Sicily. It’s the necklace she touches absently whenever she's thinking – with its cascade of different jewels catching the light, emerald green as her eyes, amber topaz like whiskey in sunlight, sapphire blue as midnight, ruby red as passion, and pale green beryl like the first leaves of spring.
Tally thinks we're just going to Indigo to watch her mom's piano set.
She has no idea I've arranged with the manager to take the stage after her mother finishes.
My palms are already sweating at the thought of sitting down at that piano bench, looking out at her, and playing the melody I've been practicing for weeks.
The lyrics are raw—everything I've wanted to tell her but couldn't find the right moment for. My brothers will absolutely roast me for it. I’m totally expecting lots of shit being given by them in the months to come.
Total cheese-fest. But watching her face when she realizes the song is for her?
Worth every second of potential humiliation. This is happening, cringe or not.
The gallery's exposed brick walls frame us perfectly as Lilith prepares for the ceremony.
She got ordained online specifically for today, and honestly, I can't imagine anyone better.
She's been insisting for months that Tally and I share some cosmic connection—these "tendrils of light" that she claims to see linking souls who've traveled together across lifetimes.
Sounds mystical, but I get it. Some people just click like they're picking up a conversation they started centuries ago.
That was us from that first night in the ER—I knew she was it for me, and turns out, she felt the same way too.
God, the time we wasted. Her keeping me at arm's length because she was convinced she'd "destroy" anything good that came her way—including me. "I love you too much to ruin you," she said. I understood her fear, but understanding doesn't make the lost time hurt any less.
Even now, part of me worries she might bolt before saying "I do.
" But therapy helped, and nearly dying in those woods changed everything for her.
"It was like having ice water thrown in my face," she told me afterward.
"I've been pushing away everything good because I was afraid I'd break it. What a waste."
But everybody's here, and it's go time. Lilith calls everybody to order, and I take Tally's hands in mine, those skilled artist's fingers that have marked so many bodies but somehow left the deepest marks on my heart.
"I promise to be your anchor when the world gets rough,” I tell her, holding her hands.
“Your partner when you need backup, and your biggest fan when you kick ass—which is pretty much always. "
Tally's eyes shine as she squeezes my hands.
"Cameron Kensington, I promise to love you fiercely, honestly, and without filter—just like everything else I do.
You saw me, really saw me, when I was trying my hardest not to be seen.
" Her voice breaks when she vows to trust me with her scars, both inked and invisible, and with the greatest gift she's ever given— our child.
Her fingers squeeze mine when she says, "I spent my life running, but I'm done. I'm home now."
Home now. Home now.
Damn, those words are music to my ears.