Epilogue #2
She places her hand in mine after wiping away a tear. Her fingers are soft. Familiar.
“Hi,” she whispers.
“Hi,” I whisper back, my voice low.
Pastor Miller clears his throat.
“Friends and family,” he begins.
And I take another breath, standing a little taller, holding onto the woman I’m about to marry.
Callie
My hands are shaking.
Not noticeably, not in a way anyone else would catch, but I can feel it in the way my fingers curl into Mitch’s palm, in the way my thumb keeps tracing the same spot on his knuckle like muscle memory.
He squeezes back once, grounding, familiar, like he knows exactly what I need without me saying a word.
I can feel everyone watching us, but it doesn’t feel overwhelming the way I thought it would. It feels distant. Like the world narrowed down to this space. This moment. Him.
The way Mitch is looking at me makes me almost lose it.
His eyes are glassy, jaw tight, like he’s barely holding himself together. I smile at him, small and soft, hoping it tells him everything I can’t say yet.
I think about how we got here. About being young and dumb. scared, overwhelmed with trying to do the right thing. About nights spent praying separately and then learning how to pray together. About owning our mistakes, and the grace we didn’t deserve but were given anyway.
I glance toward the front row.
Landon’s there, blissfully unaware, drool shining on his chin. He’s the reason people think they know our story. But he’s not the beginning of it.
Mitch is.
Pastor Miller talks about commitment. About choosing each other daily. About love being an action more than a feeling. I nod along, my stomach knotted with excitement and nerves.
And when it’s time for Mitch to share his vows, my heart stutters. Because I’m suddenly not in this church…
I’m standing at the creek, fishing beside him. In his truck, arguing over the radio station.
I’m at a high school football game, letting him pay for my ticket. I’m in homeroom, listening to him argue with Mr. Duncan about being late.
I’m walking down the hallway, slamming his locker shut before he’s done, running off before he catches me.
I’m in gym class, watching him beat the crap out of Steven Duane for hitting me in the head with a football.
I’m on the porch swing after prom, wishing he’d kiss me.
I’m standing on the side of a back road, crying, telling him I’m pregnant. In the hospital, watching him hold our son for the first time.
We’re in the kitchen at midnight with a screaming newborn.
And then I’m at the lake, watching him get down on one knee and asking me to marry him.
I’m in every place we learned how to be us. And I brace myself, because I know whatever he’s about to say is going to change me forever.
Mitch clears his throat.
“I don’t have some perfect speech memorized,” he starts, voice low and honest. “And I’m probably going to mess this up.”
He reaches for a paper in his jacket, folded up, not perfect, but at least it’s white and not that yellow ledger paper he uses for work stuff.
“Calliope Elise,” he starts, eyes flicking to mine quickly, then back to the paper. “I’ve loved you through a ton of big moments and a million small ones.”
My chest tightens.
“I loved you when I was too young to know what it was. When life was easy and we had no idea how big love could get. I loved you when we were scared and unsure of how fast everything was going to change.”
His voice wavers, just slightly.
“You didn’t make me grow up overnight. You made me want to. You made me want to be better. Stronger. Steadier. For you and Landon.”
Tears blur my vision.
“I promise to choose you, not because I have to, but because I want to. I want to protect our family, provide, and show up through the hard stuff, not just when it’s easy.”
He swallows, breath shaky now. He squeezes my hand.
“And most of all, I promise to love you the way you deserve to be loved.”
He sniffles, and when he looks back at me, the room narrows down to just him, his words settling deep in my bones, permanent.
Because forever with him is the opposite of scary.
* * *
The reception feels like a release. Like everyone collectively exhales the second we walk through the doors. Music swelling, chairs scraping as people rise to see us. People cheer louder than I expect them to, and Mitch’s hand tightens in mine.
The room is strung with soft lights and white fabric, tables dressed in navy linens with yellow accents tucked into centerpieces. It’s warm and loud and alive in a way the ceremony wasn’t. Less sacred. More us.
Landon makes his entrance about thirty seconds later.
My mom appears at our table with him on her hip, dressed in his tiny button-up and suspenders that nearly undo me. He’s wide awake, dark brown eyes taking everything in, clearly unfazed by the fact that his parents just got married.
“There he is,” Mitch says immediately, taking him without thinking twice.
One of his chubby hands grabs at Mitch’s tie like it’s a new toy.
“Yeah,” Mitch laughs, tugging it free. “This thing survived the ceremony. It’s all yours now.”
“You did good today,” I tell Landon, running my hand over his dark brown hair. “Long day. Lots of people.”
Landon smiles at me and leans toward me, I take him and we sit down at our table, letting everyone else get settled before the DJ announces the first dance.
Mitch looks at me. “You ready?”
I nod. “Yeah.”
He hands Landon back to my mom, kisses the top of his head, then offers me his hand.
The song starts—“Let ’em Talk.” It’s been our song since we found out about Landon.
Mitch grabs me at my waist, unafraid, bold, and he holds me close.