Chapter 30 #2
Nettie inhaled sharply as warmth spilled over her.
Her hair was pinned in a sleek bun at the nape of her neck, a veil tumbling over her shoulders like a whisper of moonlight.
The dress hugged her frame in clean, elegant lines—white silk fitted to her waist before flowing into a narrow skirt that swept behind her with each tentative step.
She’d wanted something timeless, something cinematic, something that could have been plucked straight from one of the films they’d spent nights binge-watching together.
Her hand trembled slightly as she found the tiny switch embedded in the stems of her bouquet. With a subtle press, it flared to life—soft, golden-yellow light blooming against the petals, spilling upward across her veil, her cheekbones, her smile.
Across the aisle, Tate’s lips parted into a grin, wide and unapologetic. His eyes gleamed with mischief, pride, and love all tangled into one expression. Just as they’d rehearsed, he raised his hand and snapped his fingers.
At once, his groomsmen responded in unison, each reaching into their lapel pocket.
A flick, a click—then one by one, glowsticks lit up, casting an otherworldly red glow against their tuxedos.
The light matched perfectly with their bow ties and cummerbunds, their grins wide as the crowd rippled with gasps and muffled laughter.
Him versus her.
Light versus dark.
Power versus control – melting, changing, combining, and bringing out the best of each other because of their love.
The sanctuary, usually solemn and still, had transformed into a stage for their story—a love that thrived on playfulness, creativity, and a refusal to take themselves too seriously despite the challenges they might have faced over the years.
The Imperial March faded, and with it came a swell of something softer, more tender—Han and Leia’s theme from Star Wars. The melody wrapped around Nettie like a promise, like the very first time Tate had looked at her with that half-smile and said, You’re mine, Sticks.
Coach C?te offered his arm, and Nettie slid her hand through, her bouquet casting its warm glow against his sleeve.
Together, they began their slow walk down the aisle.
The darkness of the sanctuary made every flickering candle seem brighter, every step more deliberate.
Shadows played along the walls, while the soft yellow light spilling from her bouquet bathed her in an ethereal glow.
She lifted her chin, her eyes locked firmly on Tate’s proud, waiting face.
Their lights blurred with each step she took toward him, blending into a warm shared hue, growing stronger and more sure.
Just like them.
By the time she reached the end of the aisle, her chest ached with unshed emotion. Tate stepped forward with easy confidence, the grin never faltering. He wrapped Coach C?te in a firm hug, shook his hand, then turned back to Nettie.
And then he hesitated. His hand hovered near her veil, frozen halfway. His gaze softened as it swept over her, and then his eyes caught on something just above her ear.
“What? What’s wrong?” Nettie whispered, panic fluttering in her chest.
“Hold still,” he breathed, his voice low enough that only she could hear. “You’ve got a stowaway.”
“What?”
“There’s a butterfly on your…”
His voice trailed off as his eyes lifted back to hers.
For a suspended moment, everything else—the lights, the guests, even the minister waiting at the pulpit—disappeared.
All that remained was the way he was looking at her, the curve of his smile blurring through her bittersweet tears as they welled and spilled hotly down her cheeks, unheeded.
In that moment, she couldn’t love him more.
She knew Tate remembered.
Once again, they were teenagers sitting on the creek bank together as she had once whispered those magical words long ago - right before Gina had taken that photo of the three of them. That same beloved framed photo Tate had at his house, on his desk.
Butterflies are fairies and angels visiting us…
“I think I’ll leave it,” Tate whispered emotionally, knowing what this meant to her deep down inside. She blinked furiously, fighting through the rush of unexpected admiration and surge of unconditional love she had for the one man who’d always held her heart.
Her soulmate.
“Please do,” Nettie choked out, her throat tightening around the words. “Maybe it’s an angel visiting to celebrate with us, because we’ve finally found our way to each other.”
“I think so, Sticks,” Tate said, his own voice thick with emotion. His hand found hers, warm and steady, anchoring her to the moment. “I really think so.”
Her chest swelled so hard she thought it might burst. The butterfly clung silently to her veil, its wings fragile and luminous in the candlelight. Somehow, it felt right—like she wasn’t just walking toward her future, but carrying a piece of her past with her.
Together, their fingers laced tight, they turned toward the minister. The sanctuary hushed again as the opening words broke through:
“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to witness this marriage between Tate and Nettie…”
Nettie lifted her gaze back to Tate, and in the dim candlelight, she saw nothing but him. This is what it’s like to find your soulmate…
His smile was steady, his eyes alight with a love so passionate and pure it stole her breath.
It was finally their time.
Their happily ever after.
Time slipped through Nettie’s fingers like water, impossible to hold on to, yet she wanted to clutch every heartbeat of this night and never let it go.
It was true what they said—when joy filled your chest, hours dissolved into mere blinks.
But sorrow? That was when minutes dragged like lead weights.
Nettie knew both intimately. She had sat in grief’s stillness, mourning her grandmother, aching in a way that made the world feel muted.
Tonight, though, was different. Tonight, everything sang.
The air seemed brighter, her skin warmer, her soul lighter.
And it was because of him.
Tate’s strong hand clasped hers, spinning her across the dance floor as though she weighed nothing.
He looked at her like she was the only one in the room, the only one in his world, and maybe that was the truth.
Those dark eyes—warm, steady, brimming with a devotion she had only dared to dream of—made her heart ache with happiness.
She had never felt so cherished, so seen.
As the music slowed, he drew her back against him, his chest solid at her back, his arms wrapping around her waist like a vow. His breath tickled against her ear as he whispered, “Are you happy, Sticks?”
The tenderness in his voice unraveled her completely.
She tipped her head toward him, her lips curving into a smile she couldn’t contain.
“Incredibly so,” she admitted, her words breaking on a laugh as he twirled her, then cradled her close again.
His kiss brushed her shoulder, soft as a promise, and her breath caught.
“I love you,” he murmured against her skin, his voice so raw it trembled through her. “And I think I’ve always loved you. But I’m ready to get out of here when you are.”
Heat bloomed in her chest, rising to her cheeks as she turned in his arms to face him. Her gaze found his, steady and sure, and she teased softly, “Oh yeah?”
His smile curved into something sinful and sweet. “Yeah. I think I’d like a little alone time with my new bride.”
Her fingers slid up the back of his neck, curling just under the edge of his tuxedo collar. “Please, Cujo,” she teased, her voice husky with affection. “You’ve never brought anything little into this world. Not your attitude, not your presence on the ice, not a single part of you.”
That glint in his eye darkened with desire, but his words carried reverence. “You seem pretty sure of that, wife.”
“I am, husband,” she whispered.
The world spun around them, filled with laughter and music, but Nettie barely noticed.
She pressed her cheek to his chest, holding him tight, letting the steady beat of his heart ground her in this breathtaking moment.
Their friends surrounded them—Shannon glowing as she danced with Dominic, Gina awkwardly tucked in Justin’s arms for the very first time—but none of it dimmed the intimacy she felt.
Everything in her life had shifted, changed, rebuilt itself into something new, something luminous.
Yet as she lifted her gaze to Tate, she realized the truth: this wasn’t change. This was destiny, sliding into place as if it had always been waiting for them.
“No regrets, Cujo,” she breathed, stroking back one stubborn curl from his temple with shaking fingers. “Let’s get out of here.”
His answering grin was molten. “Done, Mrs. Cassidy.”
Without hesitation, he caught her hand, ready to lead her away.
But instead of walking her off the floor, Tate bent low, slid an arm under her, and lifted her effortlessly against his chest. Nettie gasped, her hands flying to his shoulders, then melted into him, her heart racing with joy and wonder.
Their eyes met, and in that instant, she saw everything: the spark that would never fade, the love that would outlast time, the blessing they would carry together for the rest of their lives. And as he carried her out of the reception, Nettie knew.
This was forever.