Tyler
I’d played finals in front of twenty thousand people. I’d stood on Centre Court with the weight of a nation pressing down on me. But none of that had my palms sweating like they were now.
Travis leaned in, muttering, “Too late to make a run for it now, baby bro,” and the groomsmen snorted, but my heart was like an out of rhythm drum.
Because any second now, those doors were going to open and the girl who flipped my whole damn life on its head was going to walk through them in a white dress.
“Reed’s shaking like he’s down match point,” Jordan murmured, smirking like the smug bastard he was.
“Don’t worry,” Malachy rumbled, clapping me on the back hard enough to nearly knock me forward. “If you faint, we’ll drag you back up.”
Even Danny, who’d spent months barely tolerating me, cracked the faintest grin. “Christ, don’t cry, yet. You’ll set her off before she even makes it down the aisle.”
“Fuck all of you,” I muttered under my breath, but there was no bite in it, because they weren’t wrong.
My heart almost stopped as the music began. It was time.
Everyone rose, the scrape of chairs echoing faintly through the vaulted room. My eyes locked on the door as it cracked open.
Then I saw her.
The rest of the world fell away. Breath stalled in my lungs.
She stepped through the doorway like a goddamn angel, light catching on the veil, her dress flowing around her like something out of a dream.
Perfect. Every devastating inch of her. Her arm was looped through her dad’s, but her eyes—Jesus, those big brown eyes—were locked on me, wet at the rims, like she was holding herself together by a thread.
Every step she took down that aisle knocked the air out of my chest. The way her hair swept back, the veil trailing behind her, that little flutter of nerves in her smile, it all fucking wrecked me.
My throat burned. My vision went hot and blurry.
And I didn’t care who saw. The nerves that had threatened to settle suddenly fell away because this was me, a grown man completely undone by the sight of the woman I loved walking toward me to promise me forever.
Our eyes locked, and I knew I’d never forget the way she looked at me in that moment.
Tears shimmering, fighting against the breathtaking smile that broke through anyway.
When she finally reached me, she let out a shaky little giggle, and I couldn’t stop the grin that spread across my face in response.
Her dad gave me an approving nod before kissing her cheek and placing her hand in mine.
“Hi,” I said, my grin stretching helplessly wider.
“Hi,” she whispered back, clutching my hands like she never wanted to let go.
As everyone settled, the door suddenly creaked open again, slicing through the hush. My head snapped toward the sound and for a heartbeat, I couldn’t believe what I was seeing.
Mom.
But not the mom I was used to seeing. She looked…good. Healthy. Glowing. Her hair perfectly styled, her outfit immaculate. And, damn, she was even walking straight.
Her eyes swept the room, a little shy at her late entrance, before she slipped quietly down the aisle to a seat beside Sarah. When she spotted Orla and me, she gave us the warmest smile.
For a second, I couldn’t breathe again. I almost didn’t recognize her and yet, she’d never looked more like my mom.
Orla’s eyes found mine all wide and disbelieving before softening, like she felt it too; the shock, the relief. The impossible hope crashing through me all at once.
The registrar cleared her throat gently, and the room settled again. My hands were still locked with Orla’s, her fingers trembling against mine. I wasn’t sure if it was nerves or everything that had just happened.
I drew a steadying breath as the officiant began to speak. The words were familiar, ones I’d heard a hundred times at other weddings but standing there, saying them to her, they felt like they’d been written just for us, no longer fueled by tequila and Vegas adrenaline.
“I, Tyler Jameson Reed, take you, Orla Marie Reed, to be my lawfully wedded wife…”
Her eyes glittered as I repeated the vows line by line, each phrase carving itself into me. When it was her turn, her voice shook at first, then steadied.
By the time we promised for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, I wasn’t just repeating old vows, I was promising myself to her for all of it, no matter what came.
The registrar’s voice blurred until only one line cut through the rush in my ears
“I now pronounce you husband and wife.”
My chest tightened. My pulse roared.
“You may kiss the bride.”
I didn’t need telling twice.
I bent, catching Orla’s mouth with mine softly, full of reverence for the crowd but underneath, all I could think about was how much hungrier I’d kiss her when I finally had her alone.
Her lips trembled against mine, and when I pulled back, the sound of the room descended with cheers, whistles, Gwen whooping loud enough to rattle the rafters.
I slid my hand into hers, weaving our fingers together as we turned toward the aisle. Music swelled. Cameras flashed.
And under the roar of it all, I leaned close to her ear, still smiling for everyone watching.
“You look stunning,” I muttered, my lips brushing her cheek like another kiss. “But I can’t wait to strip you out of that dress.”
Her laugh caught, scandalized and she gripped my hand tighter as we stepped out into forever.