Epilogue - Lucy
One Year Later…
A nya’s face appeared next to mine in the mirror. “You look absolutely stunning, Luce. You make a beautiful bride.”
“Thanks, Anya.”
Whether it was foolish or brilliant, we’d chosen a Thanksgiving weekend wedding, partly because it was already an excuse to celebrate and eat too much, and adding a wedding into the mix would make it easy for friends and family alike to attend.
Somehow, Clay had pulled off the Thanksgiving meal of the century yesterday, and today had dawned crisp and beautiful. A perfect day for an outdoor wedding at American Camp.
Inside the visitor center bathroom, Anya, Violet, Rae, and I clustered around the mirror, putting the final touches on our hair and makeup. Karen McMillan waited outside with a golf cart to whisk us up the trail.
My hands were surprisingly steady as I applied a last coat of mascara. The woman in the mirror was somehow… calm. Confident. Like she was absolutely sure about marrying the love of her life.
We’d had time to grow into this. Without the chaos of art classes and fraud investigations, Clay and I learned what life looked like on quieter days.
He handled my grouchy days with grace and my cuddly moments with open arms. I’d worried he might take us for granted once we got serious, but he kept proposing.
It was freaking adorable. Especially when he did it on my worst days, the ones where I felt least lovable.
I’d taken to asking him right back. Reminding him over and over that I chose him. Chose us.
“Ready?” Rae asked, watching me in the mirror.
She looked radiant in deep blue. Violet had chosen a rich purple and Anya a soft pink. We didn’t match, but somehow, we belonged together, like a color wheel of sisterhood.
My dress was an ombre that transitioned from white to a rainbow of color at the hem, ending in a deep purplish-black. It was dramatic and bright. Traditional white would have been ruined on the trails.
“I’m ready,” I said. “You have the ring?” I asked Anya.
She patted her tiny purse. “Got it.”
Karen’s voice called from the doorway, “You all look stunning. Your chariot awaits.” Her motherly smile beamed with pride as she gestured to the golf cart at the curb.
We found our seats, tucking our skirts around us, a soft breeze welcoming us as Karen drove to the clearing where the park volunteers had set up chairs for our guests. The Salish Sea sparkled in the distance, and birds swooped overhead.
Karen parked behind a large stand of trees where my parents waited.
My mom had chosen a pretty floral dress for the occasion and my dad a suit.
Clay and I had visited at Christmas, and they’d made the trek to the island in the spring.
Unsurprisingly, Clay fit in well with the boisterous Millen clan, easily handling my father’s dad jokes and my mom’s pointed questions.
Soft music played in the clearing, and I hugged Anya, Rae, and Vi each in turn. “Thanks for being here for me today.”
“We wouldn’t be anywhere else,” Anya assured, eyes glittering with unshed tears.
“Don’t you start,” I warned. “If you cry, I cry. No one wants me to walk down the aisle looking like a raccoon.”
Anya chuckled, the sound watery. “You’re all bark, no bite. But we love you for it.”
I managed a shaky smile. “You know I love you too. Moving here was absolutely my best decision. I found good people.”
“And a wonderful husband,” Vi added with a playful smile. “Clay’s a keeper.”
I took a shuddery inhale, holding my breath for a moment, trying to bank the swell in my chest before it spilled over. “I can’t wait to call him my husband.”
“Then let’s get this party started. We’ll meet you at the finish line.” Rae turned, following the music toward the altar. One by one, my friends peeled off, leaving me with my parents.
“Ready?” my dad asked, offering his elbow.
I drew in a steadying breath. The air was crisp with dried grass and the hint of the sea. My future was waiting.
“Yes.”
Clay stood tall and sure, his eyes locked on mine. In that moment, there might have been two hundred guests or two. I only had eyes for him.
His dark brown hair gleamed in the sun, burnished with copper highlights. His smart dark suit and white collared shirt looked crisp against his deep tan. Shoulders back, feet spread, he held my gaze, pulling me inexorably toward him, adoration in his deep brown eyes.
I could fall into them and never crawl out.
My parents fell away, taking seats behind us, as Clay clasped my hands.
“Lucifer, I’m proud of you for making it this far. Marry me?” he whispered.
“All day, every day,” I said.
Gran cleared her throat, her smile wicked. The hint of menace gave me a moment of doubt over our officiant choice. But she’d volunteered, and I hadn’t wanted to ask one of our friends to pull double duty.
“We’re gathered here today to help these two young people start a life together.
I had the pleasure of witnessing the early phases of their relationship, when Clay would ask Lucy to marry him, and she’d respond with a resounding ‘no.’” Gran winked at Clay.
“Someday, you’re going to have to tell me what you did to get her to say ‘yes.’ But maybe not in front of all of these witnesses. ”
A roll of laughter spread through our guests.
“One thing that’s impressed me about Clay and Lucy as a couple is the way they unconditionally support each other. Through good days and bad. ‘Cause, honey, in any real marriage, you’re going to have both. I think they’ve got what it takes to go the distance.”
She cleared her throat. “Now, Clay. Do you take Lucy Millen as your wife, agreeing to be her husband, to grow old with her, to keep your relationship strong, and to face challenges together as you build a life where you both thrive? Do you agree to laugh with her, love with her, and do the work to maintain a healthy marriage?”
“I do.” His deep voice boomed across the clearing, loud and sure. He squeezed my hands, sincerity in every line of his handsome face.
Gran turned to me, eyes twinkling. “Do you, Lucy Millen, take Clay Robertson as your husband, agreeing to be his partner, to grow old with him, to keep your relationship strong, and to face challenges together as you build a life where you both thrive? Do you agree to laugh with him, love him, and do the work to maintain a healthy marriage?”
“I do.”
“Then, by the power vested in me by someone who didn’t know any better, I now pronounce you husband and wife.” She paused. “You may now get it on.”
Laughter rippled through the crowd, but I only had eyes for Clay. His lip quirked up, his eyes dancing as he gathered me close.
“I’m so proud to be your husband, Lucy.” He said it softly, just for me.
“And I’m lucky to be your wife.”
I leaned into him, and Clay took my weight easily, kissing me like I was precious. The kiss was sweet and sure. Like we had forever and each other—everything we could possibly need.