Chapter 56
SAM
Warm breath tickles my ear, pulling me from the depths of sleep. A familiar weight shifts the mattress beside me, and I feel Eli's arm curling around my waist, drawing me closer to his chest.
"Wake up, sleeping beauty," he whispers, his morning voice scratchy and low. The sound travels through me like electricity, raising goosebumps along my arms even as I keep my eyes stubbornly closed, clinging to the pretense of sleep despite the smile threatening to betray me.
His lips brush against my temple, then my cheek, the corner of my mouth. Each touch is feather-light. I fight to keep my breathing even, but when he nuzzles my neck, I can't suppress the tiny shiver that runs through me.
"I know you're awake," he murmurs against my skin. "Your eyelashes are fluttering."
I keep my eyes shut, biting the inside of my cheek to hold back a giggle.
"If you don't open those beautiful eyes," he continues, his fingers tracing circles on my hip, "I might have to resort to extreme measures."
"What kind of measures?" I whisper, unable to maintain the charade any longer.
"The kind that involve tickling," he threatens, though his voice holds a promise rather than a warning. "Or maybe I'll just have to eat all those cream croissants from Bellini's by myself."
My eyes fly open. "You didn't."
Eli's face hovers above mine, his hair sleep-mussed, eyes warm with amusement. "I did." He leans down to press his lips softly against mine. "Good morning."
I reach up to touch his face, running my thumb along his jawline. "It's six in the morning," I say, glancing at the clock. "Why are you waking me up at dawn, Deveraux?"
"Because," he says, shifting to prop himself on one elbow, "I didn't get to see you last night. By the time practice ended and I dragged my sorry ass home, you were already sound asleep. Curled up like a kitten, snoring—"
"I do not snore!"
"How would you know? You're asleep when it happens." His smile is teasing, and I swat his chest lightly. "So, how was your day with the girls? Caroline mentioned something about a shopping spree."
Yesterday, Willow and Caroline invited me out for a girls' day—their way of cheering me up after I told them I'm no longer continuing treatment now that my second round of chemo failed. I agreed, mostly because I got bored staying at the beach house and wanted a change of scenery. I wanted to feel normal for once, since I haven't felt that in so long. Kind of hard to feel normal when you've been stuck in a hospital room for months, getting pumped full of toxins and chemicals.
Surprisingly, I thought my sudden urge to leave the house would be met with resistance from Eli and my brother—because, you know, I'm sick and dying—but they actually agreed to it.
Of course, it came with conditions.
I had to promise not to overexert myself, to come back within three hours—or sooner if I started feeling off—and to stay with Willow or Caroline at all times. Apparently, I'm not allowed to exist unsupervised anymore.
My brother and Eli wanted to come with me themselves, but they couldn't because they had practice.
They've been brutal lately—longer hours on the ice, extra drills, the kind that leaves them dead on their feet. They have the conference semifinals this Friday, so everything's been dialed up to another level. Eli calls it "hockey boot camp from hell," which, coming from him, says a lot.
I tuck myself closer to his warmth. "It was perfect. I'm sorry I crashed so early."
"Don't be." He kisses my forehead. "You needed the rest. But now you're mine for the day."
"Wait, aren't you supposed to be at team workout this morning?"
"Coach gave us the day off," he says, tracing patterns on my shoulder through the thin fabric of my pajamas. "Said we need to preserve our energy for tomorrow's game. Everyone's supposed to take it easy today."
"That's probably wise. You guys have been pushing so hard." I reach up to brush the hair from his face. "So what's the plan for your day of freedom? More sleep?"
"Sleep?" He looks scandalized. "When I could spend it with you? I was thinking..." He nuzzles his nose along my jaw, his breath warm against my skin. "Breakfast date by the beach. Watch the sunrise together. What do you say?"
Excitement bubbles through me, and I fling my arms around his neck. "I'd love that! I haven't watched a sunrise in ages."
His smile is soft, something almost secret in his eyes as he presses another kiss to my lips, this one lingering and deep. When we pull apart, he reaches for my knitted cardigan draped over the bedside chair.
"Here," he says, helping me into it. "It's chilly out."
Before I can swing my legs over the side of the bed, he scoops me up in his arms. I let out a surprised laugh, wrapping my arms around his neck.
"What are you doing?"
"Carrying my girl to breakfast," he says simply, as if it's the most natural thing in the world.
I rest my head against his shoulder as he carries me through the house and out onto the deck. The early morning air is crisp, the ocean breeze carrying salt and promise. The sky is still more night than day, a deep blue with just the barest hint of light at the horizon. Despite the chill, Eli's body heat envelops me, keeping the cold at bay.
As we descend the steps to the beach, I notice something that makes me gasp. There, set up on the sand, is an elaborate picnic blanket with plush cushions. A small wooden table sits in the center, a wicker basket perched on top. Soft battery-powered lanterns create pools of golden light around the edges, and scattered rose petals frame the entire setting.
"Eli," I breathe. "When did you do all this?"
He sets me down gently on the blanket, lowering himself beside me. "I woke up at four," he admits, looking slightly sheepish. "Couldn't sleep anyway. Too many things on my mind."
"What kinds of things?" I ask, but he just smiles mysteriously and begins unpacking the basket.
My eyes widen as he pulls out box after box from Bellini's Bakery. Fresh cream croissants, still slightly warm. Chocolate-filled brioche. The cinnamon rolls I love with their perfect swirl of spice and sugar. There's a thermos of coffee, another of hot chocolate, and a bottle of fresh orange juice.
"You remembered everything I love," I say, touched by the thought he's put into this.
"I pay attention." He hands me a croissant on a napkin. "It's hard not to remember what makes your face light up like that."
We eat slowly as the darkness begins to recede. The conversation flows easily between us—about nothing and everything. He tells me about a new play the team has been practicing, demonstrates with salt and pepper shakers how it's supposed to work. I tell him about the ridiculous hat Caroline tried on yesterday, and how Willow charmed the boutique owner into an extra discount.
As the first hints of pink and gold touch the horizon, I stand up, drawn by the changing colors. The morning light spills across the water, turning the waves to liquid fire.
"It's starting," I whisper, reaching for my phone to capture the moment. The screen can't possibly do justice to the way the colors unfold across the sky—coral and amber and the palest blue imaginable.
I take photo after photo, trying to freeze this perfect moment. "It's so beautiful," I say, not turning around. "I can't believe we don't do this more often."
"Do you want to make this moment even more beautiful?" Eli's voice sounds different somehow, a thread of something I can't identify running through it.
"How could this moment be any more beautiful?"
"With me asking you to marry me."
My breath catches in my throat.
For a moment, I think I've misheard him. My fingers tighten around my phone, nearly dropping it as I slowly turn.
Eli is down on one knee, a small velvet box open in his palm. Inside nestles a diamond ring that catches the newborn sunlight, fracturing it into a thousand tiny rainbows. My free hand flies to my mouth as tears spring to my eyes.
"Sam," he begins, his voice thick with emotion. "Before you say anything, I need you to understand something." He takes a deep breath, his eyes never leaving mine. "This isn't about obligation or pity or making the best of a bad situation. And I know I'm never gonna love anyone the way I love you."
The rising sun silhouettes him, casting his features in gold and shadow.
I can't speak, can't breathe, can't do anything but listen as he gives voice to everything I've ever wanted to hear.
"These last few months have taught me something important," he says, his gaze intense. "Time isn't a guarantee. Tomorrow isn't promised to any of us. All we really have is right now, this moment, and the choice to make it count."
He shifts slightly, the sand whispering beneath his knee. "I choose you, Sam. I choose to make every second count with you. Whether that's fifty years or fifty days, I want it all. The good, the hard, the beautiful, the painful—all of it, as long as it's with you."
A broken sob escapes me.
"I don't want to wait for someday," he says, his voice dropping to an intimate murmur that's just for us. "I want to start our forever right now. Today. Because a lifetime with you—even if we only have few months—would still be the most extraordinary lifetime I could imagine."
He takes the ring from its box. "Samantha Westbrook, will you do me the incredible honor of becoming my wife?"
I'm smiling through my tears—that radiant, full-heart smile that's always been only for him.
"I..." My voice cracks, and I have to try again. "I thought you'd never ask."
His eyebrows lift slightly, hope warring with uncertainty in his eyes. "Is that a yes?"
"Of course it's a yes, Eli. Always!"
His hands are shaking as he slides the ring onto my finger. The next thing I know, he's surging to his feet, his hands cradling my face as he kisses me with a desperation that matches my own.
When we break apart, both breathless and tear-streaked, he pulls me into an embrace so tight I can feel the rapid thumping of his heart against mine.
"I love you," he whispers, the words a warm breath against my ear.
"I love you too," I manage, my own voice choked with emotion. "So much it feels like my heart might burst."
The sound of applause breaks our bubble, and we turn to see my mother standing at the edge of the blanket, tears streaming down her face as she leans against my brother's shoulder. Caroline stands beside them, dabbing at her eyes with a tissue.
"What are you all doing here?"
"Did you really think we'd miss this?" Zach asks, his voice rougher than usual. He's trying for his usual teasing tone, but the emotion undermines it completely.
Before I can respond, Eli sweeps me off my feet again, this time spinning me around in a circle that makes the world blur into a happy smear of colors. My laughter mixes with his, the sound carried away by the ocean breeze.
When he finally sets me down, I'm dizzy in the best possible way.
My mother and Caroline approach, pulling me into hugs and admiring the ring. Zach claps Eli on the shoulder, both of them grinning like fools.
"Go get yourself ready, sweetheart," he says, his eyes shining with a happiness I haven't seen in a long time. "So I can make you my wife."
The words take a moment to penetrate my giddy haze. "What?" I ask, certain I've misheard it. "Today? Like, right now?"
He flashes me that wicked grin that still makes my heart stutter after all these years. "Mhmm."
"Wow," I say, shaking my head. "You work pretty fast, Mr. Deveraux."
He hooks an arm around my waist and pulls me back against him, pressing his forehead to mine.
"Sweetheart," he murmurs, "that proposal was just a formality. Don't you remember? We've been engaged for years."
His thumb brushes my cheek.
"Just took me this long to make it real."
"Come on, honey," my mom says, taking my hand. "We have a wedding to get you ready for."
Caroline links her arm through my other one. "And we don't have much time," she adds with a meaningful look at Eli.
"See you at sunset, soon-to-be Mrs. Deveraux," Eli calls as they lead me away.
My heart races at the sound of those words—Mrs. Deveraux.
A dream I never thought would come true, certainly not like this. I feel the weight of the ring on my finger, still unfamiliar but somehow more right than anything has ever been. In this moment, as the sun climbs higher in the sky and Eli's eyes follow me with such love, I don't feel like I'm dying.
I feel like I'm finally, truly living.
*****
ELIJAH
It's been hours since I asked Sam to marry me and my heart still hasn't settled in my chest—it's like a wild animal trying to claw its way out of a cage, pounding against my ribs with each thundering beat. I stare at my reflection in the mirror, already dressed in my dark navy suit that fits snugly across my shoulders.
Zach stands beside me, his grin so wide it looks like his face might split in two. He's been wearing that same stupid, knowing smile since I told the guys Sam said yes, like he's personally responsible for our entire relationship.
"Zach, you sure the flowers arrived? All of them? And the arch is set up properly on the beach?" I ask for what must be the hundredth time in twenty minutes.
My best friend's eyes meet mine in the mirror as he adjusts his tie. "Dude, chill. I told you, everything's exactly how you wanted it. The coordinator's handling it all."
"I know, I know. I just—"I run my palm over the short bristles of my growing-out buzzcut, feeling the unfamiliar texture against my fingertips.
"You just want everything to be perfect for your girl," Zach finishes. "We get it. But seriously, man, if you keep this up, you're gonna have a heart attack before you even make it to the altar."
I feel a gentle pat on my shoulder and turn to see Luke standing there, his usual easygoing smile in place. "Cap, breathe. The coordinator is a miracle worker. Everything's set up exactly how you wanted, and the beach looks incredible."
I give him a grateful smile, then glance over at Kentaro, who's fiddling with his cufflinks, and Cody and Liam lounging on the couch, already nursing beers. Without these guys, pulling together a wedding in seven days would have been impossible.
"You nervous?" Cody calls out, tipping his beer bottle in my direction. "Still time to make a run for it. My car's gassed up."
I snort. "Not a fucking chance."
"Look at his face," Liam laughs, nudging Cody with his elbow. "Man's so whipped he's practically gift-wrapped."
"Having second thoughts?" Luke asks, but his teasing tone makes it clear he already knows the answer.
I turn away from the mirror, facing my friends—my teammates, my brothers. "Not a single one. I've never been more sure of anything in my life." My voice drops a little, going unexpectedly soft. "I can't wait to see her in that dress, you know? Can't wait to call her my wife."
"Jesus Christ," Zach groans, clutching his chest dramatically. "When did you turn into such a fucking romantic? What happened to the guy who used to say relationships were just distractions from hockey?"
"He met your sister," I say simply, and the guys exchange knowing looks.
Kentaro walks over, clapping a hand on my shoulder. "All jokes aside, we're happy for you, man. Sam's awesome, and you two—"
He's cut off by a knock at the door. We all turn our heads as the door swings open, and I feel my stomach drop slightly. My mom steps in first, elegant in a pale blue dress, followed by my dad in a charcoal suit that doesn't quite hide how much weight he's lost since I last saw him.
"Mom. Dad." I nod at them, surprised they actually showed up.
I called them two days ago to tell them I was getting married—yes, even before I officially asked Sam, because I already knew what her answer would be. Not because I'm cocky, but because I know my girl. I just didn't expect them to actually come, given the short notice and their general absence from every important moment in my life for the past decade.
"Look who made it," Zach says with forced cheerfulness, walking over to greet my parents. The rest of the guys follow suit, shaking hands with my dad and accepting kisses on the cheek from my mom.
"We'll give you guys some privacy," Luke says, shooting me a look that clearly asks if I'm okay. I nod slightly, and they file out, Cody giving my shoulder a supportive squeeze as he passes.
Once they're gone, my mom crosses the room and places a kiss on my cheek. "You look so handsome," she says, smoothing down my lapel with a motherly touch that feels strange after so many years without it.
My dad gives me a small nod from where he stands, maintaining his distance as always.
"Thanks for coming," I say, and I actually mean it.
Maybe it's not too late for them to act like real parents again. Maybe their appearance at the most important event of my life means I can start letting go of some of the resentment I've carried for years.
But then I notice the way they exchange glances—uneasy, weary looks that set off warning bells in my head. For a split second, I think maybe they're just being civil because it's my wedding, but that's not the vibe I'm getting at all.
"Why don't you sit down?" My mom gestures to the couch, her smile not quite reaching her eyes.
I take a seat across from them, leaning forward with my elbows on my knees. "What's up?"
My dad clears his throat. "Your mom and I have something important to tell you," he begins, his voice gravelly. "We actually came here today to ask you, plead with you not to go through with this wedding."
"What?" The word comes out sharp, laced with the anger that immediately starts simmering in my chest. My jaw tightens until I can feel my teeth grinding together, heat rising from my neck to my face.
"Elijah, darling..." my mother coos, reaching to grasp my hand. I let her take it, but my fingers remain stiff. "Listen, we know that you and Sam love each other, and I know how difficult the last few months must have been for both of you. However, your dad and I just think that you're getting married not for the right reasons."
I yank my hand away. "I love Sam! Isn't that reason enough?" My voice rises, echoing in the small room.
"Love isn't always enough, son," my dad says, his tone condescending in a way that makes me want to punch something. "Sometimes it blinds you to reality."
"Reality?" I stand up, too agitated to sit still. "What reality would that be, Dad? Please, enlighten me with your infinite wisdom about relationships. You've been such a shining example."
My dad's face hardens. "This isn't about us. This is about you making a mistake that will affect the rest of your life."
"How dare you?" I spit out, pacing now. "How fucking dare you show up here, today of all days, and try to tell me what to do with my life? Where were you when I needed advice for the past ten years? Where were you when I was making every other major life decision?"
"Elijah, please," my mom pleads, tears welling in her eyes. "We're only thinking of you. We know she's sick. We know she's... dying."
The words hit me like a slap. I freeze, staring at them in disbelief. "Who told you that?"
"Does it matter?" my dad asks. "It's the truth, isn't it? And you're too young to tie yourself to someone who—"
"Who what?" I cut him off, my voice dangerously low. "Someone who's sick? Someone who needs me?"
"Your life will be miserable," my dad continues, standing to face me. "You're young, you have a bright future ahead of you. Staying with her will only drag you down. This sickness will suck the life out of both of you and your marriage."
"We're saying this because we care about you," my mom adds, dabbing at her eyes with a tissue. "About your wellbeing, your future."
I laugh, a harsh sound that makes my mom flinch.
"That's rich. You're hypocrites, both of you. You haven't been parents to me since you separated. You've been absent for half my life, and now you show up acting like you care? Like you have any right to demand I leave Sam?"
I lean in closer to them, my voice shaking with rage. "She has been the only constant in my life. The only person who made me feel like I belong somewhere, like I matter to someone. She showed me what it's like to have family again, what it feels like to be loved unconditionally. And you expect me to let go of that just because she's sick?"
"You don't understand what you're getting into," my dad argues, his face flushed with anger. "You think you can handle it now, but the pain, the struggle—"
"I'm not like you," I snap, cutting him off. "Either of you. I don't run at the first sign of trouble. You think I'm struggling and suffering? Yeah, I am. Every single day I wake up scared that it might be the last day I get to see her, to hold her, to kiss her."
My voice breaks, but I push through. "But what you don't realize is that I'd rather have this—all of it, even the pain—than live a life full of regrets for not being brave enough to love her while I can. She's the only woman I've ever loved, the only one who made me believe in love again. No matter how short our time together might be, I know that not being with her while she's still alive is what would kill me."
I stride to the door and yank it open. "So yeah, you can shove your concern up your sorry asses. You're not invited to my wedding. Get out."
My mom's face crumples with guilt. "Elijah, please, we didn't mean—"
"Stop acting like a child," my dad cuts in, glaring at me. "You need to listen to us because we know what's right for you."
I laugh again, the sound hollow and disbelieving. "The audacity. You're going to tell me what's right for me? You can't even put your own goddamn life on the right track." I look pointedly at my father. "I don't need life lessons from either of you. You failed me a long time ago. You stopped being my parents long before your divorce."
"Elijah—" my mom tries again, but I shake my head.
"No. Just leave. I'm cutting contact with both of you, which I should have done years ago. Go."
My dad storms out first, muttering under his breath. My mom lingers, tears streaming down her face. "I'm so sorry," she whispers.
But I'm too angry to care, too hurt by their attempt to ruin the most important day of my life. I just stare at her until she follows my dad out, her sobs echoing down the hallway.
I slam the door behind them, my heart hammering in my chest, but not with the excitement of earlier. Now it pounds with fury and pain and the absolute certainty that despite everything they said, I'm making the right choice. The only choice.
To love Sam for as long as I have her.
After my parents leave, I brace my hands against the door, trying to steady my breathing. The anger still pulses through me like an electrical current, making my hands shake and my jaw ache from clenching. I need to calm down.
This day isn't about them or their bullshit—it's about Sam and me.
Sam. Just thinking her name centers me.
I know exactly what I need: to see her face, to hear her voice. I straighten my tie, smooth down my suit jacket, and head toward her room, my footsteps quickening with each stride.
I hesitate for just a moment outside her door, then knock softly. There's a rustling sound from inside, then Sam's voice calls out, "Who is it?"
"It's me," I answer, my voice already softening just knowing she's on the other side of the door.
"Eli? You know it's bad luck to see the bride before the wedding," she teases, but I can hear her moving toward the door anyway.
"I just need to see you, sweetheart."
The door opens, and everything—my anger, my parents, the world itself—falls away. My breath catches in my throat as I take in the vision standing before me.
Sam looks ethereal in a classic white dress that hugs her slender frame before flowing gently to the floor. It's simple but stunning, with delicate lace detailing along the neckline that draws my eye to the elegant curve of her collarbone. Her makeup is subtle but perfect, highlighting her wide eyes and the natural flush of her cheeks. And perched atop her head, in place of hair lost to chemotherapy, is a white bandana embroidered with tiny pearls that catch the light every time she moves.
"You're staring," she says softly, a hint of shyness in her voice as her hand moves self-consciously to touch the bandana.
"Because you're breathtaking," I whisper, unable to look away. "So goddamn beautiful."
A blush deepens the color in her cheeks, and she looks down, her long eyelashes casting shadows on her skin. "You clean up pretty nice yourself, hockey boy."
I step into the room and close the door behind me, my eyes never leaving her face. "You know what's crazy? Every time I see you, I think, 'She can't possibly get more beautiful.' And then you go and prove me wrong."
She rolls her eyes, but her smile widens. "Laying it on a bit thick, aren't we? What happened to the guy who could barely stand my presence for years?"
"He got smart." I move closer, drawn to her like she's gravity itself. "Smart enough to know when he's standing in front of the most incredible woman in the world."
Sam's eyes twinkle with mischief. "Is this what I have to look forward to in marriage? Because I'm not sure I can handle this level of sweet talk on a daily basis without developing diabetes."
I laugh, the sound unexpected but welcome after the tension with my parents. "Only on special occasions. The rest of the time I'll go back to calling you 'dude' and asking if we have any beer."
"There's the man I agreed to marry," she says, reaching up to straighten my tie even though it doesn't need it. Her fingers linger on my chest. "So, what happened to waiting to see me walk down the aisle?"
I catch her hand and press it more firmly against my heart. "Couldn't wait. Needed to see you now." I hesitate, not wanting to bring my parents' negativity into this perfect moment.
She sees it anyway—she always sees right through me. "What's wrong? Did something happen?"
"Nothing that matters." I shake my head, bringing her hand to my lips. "Not today."
"Eli." She uses her no-nonsense voice, the one I can never resist. "Tell me."
I sigh. "My parents showed up. They tried to talk me out of marrying you because of your illness. Said I was ruining my life." The words taste bitter in my mouth. "I told them to leave."
Her face falls, and I instantly regret saying anything. "Maybe they have a point—"
"No." I cut her off firmly, cupping her face in my hands. "They don't. Not even close. You are the best thing that has ever happened to me, Sam. The absolute best thing. And I don't care if we have fifty years or five weeks—every second with you is worth it."
Her eyes shimmer with unshed tears, and she rises onto her tiptoes to press her lips against mine. What starts as a gentle kiss quickly deepens as I pull her closer, one hand sliding to the small of her back while the other cradles her head. She makes a soft sound against my mouth that drives me crazy, her fingers curling into the lapels of my jacket.
I back her up against the wall, careful not to wrinkle her dress but desperate to feel her body against mine. She tastes like mint and something sweet—maybe the champagne I know Caroline brought for the bridal party. I trail kisses down her neck, drinking in her soft gasps.
"God, I love you," I murmur against her skin. "Can't believe you're going to be my wife."
"If we keep this up," she says breathlessly, "we might never make it to the ceremony."
"Fine by me," I growl, capturing her lips again.
The door swings open without warning, and Sam's mother stands there, one eyebrow raised and an amused smile playing on her lips. "Well, well. I was wondering where the groom disappeared to."
I groan, reluctantly pulling away from Sam, who hides her tomato-red face against my chest. I can't help but chuckle—she looks so damn adorable when she gets shy like this.
"Mom," Sam mumbles, her voice muffled by my jacket. "Ever heard of knocking?"
"Ever heard of saving something for the honeymoon?" her mom counters with a laugh. "Come on, you two. Everyone's waiting, and if I'm not mistaken, there's a whole ceremony planned before you get to the good stuff."
Sam finally peeks up at me, her face still flushed but her eyes dancing with happiness. I press one last kiss to her forehead before taking her hand in mine. "Ready to do this thing?"
She nods, and with her mother leading the way, we walk hand in hand toward the beach.
As soon as we step outside onto the deck, I hear Sam's sharp inhale beside me.
Her eyes widen as she takes in what I've created for her—a breathtaking lavender wonderland stretching from the deck all the way down to the shoreline. Purple blooms cover every surface, creating a vibrant carpet that seems to glow in the late afternoon sunlight. White wooden chairs draped with lavender garlands form an aisle that leads to an arch at the water's edge, also covered in the fragrant flowers.
"Eli," she breathes, her fingers tightening around mine. "How did you... This is..."
"There must be thousands of them," she whispers in awe, her free hand coming up to cover her mouth. "It looks just like I always dreamed. How did you remember? I only mentioned it once, and I wasn't even sure you were listening."
I turn to face her, tucking a loose strand of her bandana behind her ear. "I remember everything you say, sweetheart. Everything. Even back when I was trying to keep you at arm's length, even then, I was hanging on your every word."
The Archer twins outdid themselves, calling in every favor they had to source this many lavender plants on such short notice. Probably bought out half the state of Florida, knowing them. I make a mental note to thank them properly later—those two might be a pain in the ass sometimes, but there's nothing they can't do when they set their minds to it.
"Do you like it?" I ask, suddenly feeling uncharacteristically nervous.
A tear spills down her cheek, and I catch it with my thumb. "Like it? Eli, it's perfect. It's more than I ever could have imagined." She looks up at me with such love that my chest aches with the force of it. "How did I get so lucky?"
"I'm the lucky one." I cup her cheek in my palm, leaning in to plant a gentle, chaste kiss on her lips. "Ready to become Mrs. Deveraux?"
She smiles against my lips, her eyes shining with tears. "I've been waiting my whole life for it."
We both laugh softly, and I wipe away another tear that escapes down her cheek. Caroline approaches, handing Sam her bouquet—white roses interspersed with sprigs of lavender, tied with a simple ribbon.
Together, we turn toward the gathering of our loved ones. Everyone is on their feet, watching us with smiles and, in some cases, tears. Zach gives me a thumbs up from where he stands with the other guys near the arch. Caroline's parents wave from the front row, and Sam's mother has already taken her seat, dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief.
Sam takes a deep breath beside me, and I squeeze her hand reassuringly. "Together?" I ask.
She nods. "Together."
Hand in hand, we begin our walk down the aisle, toward the arch where our officiant waits to make us husband and wife. The lavender sways gently in the sea breeze, releasing its sweet scent into the air. The setting sun bathes everything in a golden glow, as if the universe itself is blessing our union.
And with every step we take, I become more certain that this—marrying Sam, loving her for whatever time we have—is the best decision I will ever make. No matter what comes next, no matter how hard it gets, this moment, this woman, this love is worth everything.