Epilogue
Sawyer
Istand at the top of the steps, trying not to sweat in the summer-weight suit my dad helped me pick out via video chat. The nondenominational officiant we hired on short notice leans forward, a calm smile on her face. “You’re doing great.”
“We haven’t started yet.”
Right on cue, Max hits play on the iPhone hooked up to a speaker, and an instrumental version of a popular club hit that sounds surprisingly fancy starts playing.
We’re having a wedding, in the middle of August, and we planned it in two weeks. According to Zelda, it’s “very DIY.” But I don’t give a shit. I want to be married to her.
The wedding is a rush job because my dad took a turn for the worse in July, and Aunt Linda called me and said I’d better come back.
The moment I walked into the room, I knew.
It wasn’t going to be one of those times he recovers.
As soon as I had a free moment, I texted Zelda and told her to book a flight. Her bosses at Stanford understood.
Right now, my dad is sitting in the sun wearing his best shorts and t-shirt, his head leaned back, the light shining on his face. It’s a small crowd—him, my Aunt Linda, Zelda’s parents, and a couple of friends—but I don’t need anyone else.
My dad perks up when Carly goes by. She and Max are the only other people in the wedding party. I can’t help but laugh a little bit. My dad might be on his way out, but he’ll still appreciate a gorgeous girl.
Carly gives me a wink and moves up to the last step on the front porch, and Max makes his way down the aisle to stand across from her.
The way they smile at each other makes me wonder if something is going on, but I can’t pay much attention because Zelda makes her way out from around the side of the house, and it takes my breath away.
She and Carly and her mom went wedding dress shopping in the city. All I knew before this moment was that they got the dress on sale and that it hardly needed any alterations, which was lucky, because they only bought it last weekend.
She’s an absolute vision.
The creamy white sits gently over her skin, and somehow it’s the perfect balance between satin and lace, between front porch and fancy event.
Her hair is loose over her shoulders, held back with only a few pins, and curled so delicately I don’t know if I ever want to touch it.
A crown of flowers rests on her hair. She holds a bouquet of summer flowers, the bright colors lovely against her dress.
There’s a pat at my shoulder. I tear my eyes away from her for a single second to find that the officiant is offering me a tissue. It’s only then that I realize there are tears running down my face.
I’m so happy my heart aches. The song changes, and Zelda turns, coming up the aisle by herself, radiant in the afternoon sun, beaming at me.
Beaming, like I’m the best thing she’s ever seen.
I never want to forget how she looks right now, walking gracefully down the front walk, our tiny gathering standing up, smiling at her.
She pauses by her parents, kissing them both on the cheek, and then crosses back over the sidewalk to do the same for my father.
“I’m sorry I can’t stand,” he says, and there’s a collective stifled sound from everyone else. To their credit, nobody bursts into tears, not even Jem.
“Don’t be sorry,” Zelda says, and reaches down to squeeze his hand.
Then she turns back to me, and everyone else drops away.
I offer her my hand and help her climb the porch steps, and her smooth skin feels so good against my palm that I might never let go.
“Hi,” she whispers as the officiant starts the ceremony. We worked with her on it so it would be short and sweet and we can get straight to the party. There’s only so much my dad can handle.
“Hey,” I say, and Zelda’s grin widens. She told me a few weeks ago that every time she hears it, she thinks about the time we first met.
I’d laughed. “The first thing I ever said to you was ‘hey.’ That’s not the most romantic story.”
She’d risen up on tiptoes to kiss me before whirling back to the stove to finish cooking. “It’s plenty romantic to me.”
The officiant is talking about love, and meaning, but none of it registers because all the love in the world is standing right in front of me, and sitting right down on my dad’s front lawn.
These are the people who decorated the porch this morning, making it look like a real wedding venue.
Zelda’s parents found a professional photographer to take photos of everything, and they paid his rush fees.
And Zelda—Zelda never even blinked when I proposed to her in the airport when she touched down two weeks ago.
She didn’t seem to care that I wanted to have a hasty wedding, and that it wouldn’t be a big fairytale event.
Her eyes had glittered when I told her I was sorry it wasn’t going to be a big to-do. “You think I’m the kind of girl who needs that?” She shook her head. “All I need is you.”
Something shifts, and I snap back to reality in time for the officiant to ask me to place the ring on Zelda’s finger and repeat after her. The delicate gold band slides on without a hitch.
“I, Sawyer, take you, Zelda, to be my wife, for richer or poorer, through thick and thin, through sickness and in health, in sadness and laughter, and everything else that comes our way, until the very end of my days.”
Tears spring from Zelda’s eyes, and she pats at her face carefully with a tissue from the helpful officiant. She gathers herself, and takes her turn putting the thicker band on my finger, her small hands holding mine in hers.
“I, Zelda, take you, Sawyer, to be my husband, from now until forever.”
The officiant can’t stop smiling herself. “Zelda, I have one final question for you. Do you mean it with all your heart?”
“I do.”
“And Sawyer? Do you mean it with all your heart?”
A laugh goes up from our guests.
“I do.”
“Then I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss your bride.”
I take Zelda into my arms and kiss her, deep and long, and she tastes like mints. She tastes like going home. She tastes like love.
Thank you for reading!