Chapter 16 Home
We get married in April.
It's a small wedding. That's what we both wanted.
Nathan doesn't like crowds and I don't need a spectacle.
We've both seen what happens when people build a wedding into something bigger than the marriage behind it.
We want the opposite. A ceremony that means something. A party that feels good. Then a life.
The venue is a restored barn on the outskirts of Pinehurst that hosts weddings and events on weekends.
Raina found it. She went to three venues, took photos of all of them, and presented them to me in a folder with pros and cons listed for each one, because Raina approaches event planning the way she approaches everything: with organized thoroughness.
The barn has wide wooden beams and string lights and a stone patio out back where the ceremony will happen.
Beyond the patio there's a meadow with wildflowers that bloom in April.
The capacity is sixty people, which is exactly right.
Not so small that it feels exclusive. Not so big that it feels like we're performing for an audience.
We invite family and close friends. Nathan's mother Carol drives down from Mercer.
She's a small woman with gray hair and kind eyes and she hugs me when she arrives with the firm tenderness of a woman who raised two boys alone after her husband died and knows exactly how strong love needs to be.
Nathan's brother Marcus flies in from Colorado.
He's shorter than Nathan by about four inches and louder by about forty percent and he shakes my hand and says, "You're better than I expected and I expected a lot. "
My mother Mariah comes. She wears a dress she bought specifically for this event and she cries when she sees me in mine and she tells me she's proud of me in a voice that catches on the word proud.
My father comes, which surprises me, but he called two weeks before the wedding and said he wouldn't miss it and for once I believe him.
He sits in the back row during the ceremony and I see him wiping his eyes when Nathan says his vows.
Raina is my maid of honor. She has been planning her responsibilities for months with the structured intensity of a military operation.
She's managed the flowers, coordinated with the barn, handled the seating chart, argued with the caterer about appetizer quantities, and personally inspected the venue twice to confirm that the string lights are positioned correctly.
Ronnie is Nathan's best man. Sierra, Chase, and Alana are there.
Cheryl comes with her boyfriend, a quiet man named Frank who runs a hardware store in the next town.
Dorothy from Birch Street comes because I invited her personally and because she spent the winter teaching me to garden in her backyard and that makes her family.
Blake is not invited. Hailey is not invited. Nobody asks about either of them. They exist in a chapter of my life that is closed and shelved and the wedding day has no room for old stories.
I get ready at Raina's apartment. She zips me into my dress, which is simple and white with a fitted bodice and a soft skirt that moves when I walk.
I had it tailored three times until it was exactly right.
Not because I'm picky about fashion. Because I wanted to feel like myself when I walked down an aisle.
Not a costume. Not a character. Me, in a dress I chose, marrying a man I chose, on a day I chose.
My hair is done by a stylist friend from the salon.
My makeup is minimal because Nathan has told me more than once that he thinks I look best when I look like myself.
Raina stands behind me in the mirror. She's in a soft blue dress that she picked herself because I told her she could wear whatever she wanted. Her eyes are wet.
"You look beautiful," she says.
"Don't make me cry before we even get there."
"I'm not crying. My eyes are doing something involuntary."
"Raina."
"Fine. I'm crying a little bit. But in my defense you deserve this and I'm allowed to be emotional about my sister getting the thing she deserves."
We drive to the barn. Raina drives because she insists that brides shouldn't have to navigate turns in dresses. The afternoon is warm and sunny with a light breeze that moves the new leaves on the trees. April in Pinehurst is gentle and green and everything smells like cut grass and possibilities.
The ceremony is short. We wrote our own vows because Nathan said the traditional ones didn't say what he wanted to say and I agreed.
Nathan goes first. He stands in front of me in a navy suit with his hands holding mine and he says, "Lara, I'm not going to promise you perfection.
I'm going to promise you the truth. Every day.
About everything. I'm going to promise you that when I say I'm at the gym, I'm at the gym.
When I say I'm coming home, I'm coming home.
When I say I love you, I mean it more than I meant it the day before.
That's my vow. Not a performance. Not words for an audience.
Just the truth. From me to you. For the rest of my life. "
I'm crying before he finishes. So is Raina. So is Carol. Even Ronnie looks like he's working very hard not to.
My vows are shorter. I say, "Nathan, you asked me once if I was okay. I wasn't. You waited until I was. That's who you are. Patient and honest and steady and good. I'm going to spend the rest of my life being grateful that you were standing next to that pool table that night. I love you."
We exchange rings. We kiss. Everyone claps. It's nothing like the applause at the restaurant where Blake proposed. That applause was from strangers who didn't know us. This applause is from people who know exactly what we've been through to get here.
The reception is in the barn. Dinner and dancing and toasts. The food is good. The music is provided by a DJ who plays a mix of songs that Sierra helped me curate because Sierra has strong opinions about wedding playlists and I trust her taste.
Ronnie gives a toast that is funny and sincere.
He talks about living with Nathan for three years and watching him slowly fall for someone he was too respectful to pursue.
He tells the story of Nathan cleaning their apartment before every date with me, vacuuming at six in the morning on a Friday because he wanted the place to look presentable in case I came inside.
He says, "I've known Nathan since middle school.
I've watched him be calm in every situation.
The only time I've ever seen him nervous was the morning he asked Lara out.
He paced our kitchen for twenty minutes rehearsing what he was going to say.
The man who doesn't rehearse anything rehearsed asking a woman to dinner.
That's when I knew this was real." Everyone laughs.
Nathan shakes his head but he's smiling.
Raina gives a toast that is short and fierce.
She talks about receiving a phone call from me on a Wednesday morning and knowing from the sound of my voice that something was wrong.
She talks about watching me build a case against a man who was supposed to love me and then watching me rebuild my life from scratch.
She talks about strength and honesty and the difference between the two.
Then she looks at Nathan and says, "Take care of my sister.
She's already had one man disappoint her.
Don't be the second." Nathan nods at her from across the room.
He doesn't say anything. He doesn't need to. The nod says everything.
We dance. Nathan is not a good dancer. He's too tall and too deliberate and he holds me carefully, concentrated on not stepping on my feet, which he does twice anyway.
I don't care. We move slowly on a wooden floor with string lights above us and our families and friends around us and his hand on the small of my back and mine on his shoulder.
I look around the barn. My mother is dancing with my father.
They haven't danced together in years. Raina is talking to Carol and they're both smiling.
Chase is at the bar telling Ronnie a story that involves hand gestures.
Sierra is taking photos of everything because Sierra documents every important moment in the lives of the people she cares about.
Cheryl and Frank are sitting at a table watching the dance floor with the contented expressions of two people who have been to enough weddings to appreciate the good ones.
Everyone I love is in this room. Everyone who showed up when it mattered. Everyone who heard the truth and chose my side and stayed.
I think about the woman who stood in a salon a year and a half ago and discovered that the man she loved was lying to her.
That woman would not believe this moment.
She would not believe that the worst thing that ever happened to her would lead here.
She would say that's the kind of thing people write in greeting cards and it never actually works out that way.
But it did. It did work out. Not because the universe owed me a happy ending. Because I chose to tell the truth and the truth cleared the path and on that path was Nathan Johnson, waiting patiently, holding a beer, asking if I was okay.
The wedding night we stay at a bed and breakfast in the next town.
Raina booked it for us as a wedding gift.
The room has a big bed with white sheets and a window overlooking a garden and a bathroom with a claw-foot tub that I have no intention of using because Nathan is standing at the foot of the bed loosening his tie with one hand and I have other priorities.