Another Epilogue
ANOTHER EPILOGUE
Stephen
A little while later…
“You know, sweetheart, I never realized our field was so big until I was standing under that damned arch waiting for you to make your way across to me,” I say to Dorothea as we sway together under twinkling tea lights and starlight.
A string quartet accompanied by a solo vocalist plays a stripped back version of Yellow by Coldplay as we share our first dance as husband and wife. We were married tonight at sunset, here in the field where we’ve shared so many moments together, with our friends and family looking on and Daisy May at our feet.
Even though we’ve built our life together in San Francisco, we both agreed that there was no place in the world more fitting for us to stand and promise to love each other forever.
“You’re telling me. It took all my effort not to break into a sprint and jump into your arms. I think that’s the real reason the bride is supposed to have someone walk them down the aisle. It’s so there’s someone there to hold them back,” she says with a sly smile on her pretty face.
While we were planning our big day, she’d toyed with the idea of having Kira walk her down the aisle in lieu of the whole ‘father giving his daughter away’ deal but in the end decided it was something she wanted to do by herself, and I fully supported her. She did a damn fine job all by herself, she always has. I was totally that groom who bawled like a baby from the moment I saw her at the end of the aisle in her flowy, floral, lace gown.
I have no shame in my tears game, though. I can’t help it that she looks like an angel.
The song reaches its crescendo and the singer invites our guests to join us on the dance floor. Coldplay fades into another tune that I can’t recognize right away but it doesn’t matter because we’re instantly flanked on all sides by Dorothea’s best friends. The Pussy Posse and their partners have become my friends as well, but me and the guys all have and understanding that the girls are the true soulmates.
“That was impressive, Stephen!” Kira says as she pats my shoulder. “You know, I was fully expecting some sort of sad side-to-side swaying moves from you, but that half-assed waltz was moderately acceptable!” Behind her, Kira’s man snorts but quickly tries to cover it up as a sneeze and I roll my eyes.
“Leave Stephen alone, Keeks. Your first dance was beautiful. I couldn’t stop crying,” Georgie says, tears still pooling in her eyes.
“Not saying that you’re wrong sweet girl, but you cry at everything these days. You cried at a chipmunk eating a leaf outside our window the other morning,” James says. He’s standing behind his wife, cradling her round stomach in a way that I thought was weird until he explained that it helps take some of the pressure of Georgie’s pregnancy off her body.
I filed that little bit of information away for later.
“Oh my god, G, I feel you. I totally would have cried at a chipmunk, too,” Dorothea says. I look down and notice her bottom lip already starting to wobble, so I cut off the inevitable water works with a quick kiss. When we pull apart, I see Rachel and her husband Amir each holding a few flutes of champagne.
“Alright, Pussy Posse and our hangers on, time to celebrate. Georgie can’t drink, so we all have to have a little extra Dom Perignon for her,” Rachel says as she starts to distribute the glasses between us. I bite the inside of my cheek when Dorothea declines.
“Loosen up, Dottie girl. I solemnly swear I will not allow you to be the messy bride who ends the night with her head in a trash can,” Kira says. Dorothea looks to me, and I give her an ‘it’s up to you’ look.
“I’m not worried about that, Keeks. It’s just…” she trails off with a small smile, so I step behind her and wrap my arms around her middle, cradling the little baby bump hidden by the loose, flowing gauze of her we dding dress. I nearly lose my hearing to the sound of three grown women shrieking in response.
“Oh my god guys, shhh!” Dorothea chides, though the smile on her face is in complete opposition to her scolding. The tears that were lingering in Georgie’s eyes are now flowing down her face, and she’s not the only one. I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve seen Kira cry in the years that I’ve known her. She tries to slyly wipe a tear from her cheek, but I clock it.
Shut up , she mouths when she sees me notice her, and I wink.
James gets the attention of a server who brings over two flutes of ginger ale for Georgie and my wife while the rest of us split up the nearly forgotten champagne.
“A toast,” I say, lifting my glass and waiting for my friends to follow. “To love, and all its many forms.”
Eight glasses clink and eight friends sip, and then I sweep my wife into my arms. I spend the rest of the night kissing off her lipstick and wondering how I got so lucky that the girl I loved when we were younger became the woman I’ll love for the rest of my life.