Epilogue
Five Years Later
The bell above Harvest Moon Coffee chimes as I push through the door, and the familiar scent of espresso and fresh pastries welcomes me.
Caleb's hand is warm in mine as we weave through the morning crowd, heading for the corner table where Kristal's already set up what suspiciously looks to be a mobile wedding command center.
Caleb looks relaxed in a soft T-shirt and dark jeans, his skin still carrying that golden glow from our recent trip to Thailand to visit my parents. The sun had been kind to him there, even if meditation with Sage and Jasper hadn't been his strong suit.
"You're three minutes late!" Kristal calls out, not looking up from her rose gold laptop.
Her clipboard obsession has evolved into a full-blown tech empire, but that manic planner energy is exactly how I remember it from Matt and Sarah's big day.
"But I'll forgive you, because you're my favorite couple this season. "
"It's April," Caleb points out, pulling out my chair. "How many other spring couples do you have?"
"Seventeen." She finally looks up, her lined eyes widening. "Oh my stars, you two are even cuter than your engagement photos! Except for the duck chaos."
I laugh, remembering how they had crashed our photoshoot in the backyard.
Ducky, now a distinguished gentleman of five years, had taken offense to the photographer's reflective lens and staged a full rebellion.
The resulting mayhem produced some of my favorite pictures—Caleb trying to wrangle four indignant ducks while I collapsed in laughter, my vintage ring catching sunlight as I tried to help.
"The ducks are non-negotiable," Caleb says, already reaching for the coffee Kristal's ordered for us. "They're basically our kids at this point."
"Please tell me you're not planning to let them waddle down the aisle. The liability forms alone—"
"No ducks in the ceremony," I assure her, though Caleb's pout suggests we might have discussed this more than once at home. "But they do need a special place in the after party."
"Of course they do." She makes a note, then pulls up what appears to be a sixty-slide presentation. "Now, about your vision . . ."
"Think ethereal goddess with a hint of vintage charm," I begin, just as Caleb cuts in with, "Whatever makes her happy. Ideally with more flair than James's wedding."
Kristal's eyebrows shoot up. "Still bitter about the beach ceremony?"
"He had fire dancers," Caleb mutters. "And Daphne let him have a nacho cheese fountain. A fountain. Of cheese. Right next to the champagne tower. And now he won't shut up about how it was the highlight of the reception."
"Is that why you keep bringing up the bouncy castle idea?" I ask, fighting a smile.
"Listen," he leans forward with a gleam in his eye, "imagine how epic it would be. Drunk people and bouncy castles would be so much fun. Plus, it would totally outdo the cheese fountain."
"We are not having a bouncy castle at our wedding," I say firmly. "That just sounds like an injury waiting to happen."
"Fine," he sighs dramatically. "But at least let Brodie plan my bachelor party."
"Absolutely not," I protest, remembering the chaos from James's last summer. "Need I remind you about the stolen lobster boat? Or how you all ended up three towns over with no phones and James sporting that terrible temporary face tattoo?"
"In our defense," he winces at the memory, "mixing tequila with whatever was in those fishermen's flasks probably wasn't our brightest idea."
Kristal clears her throat. "Focus, lovebirds. We have approximately forty-seven decisions to make today, and that's just about the flowers."
I settle back in my chair, letting her enthusiasm wash over me.
Five years ago, I never would have imagined sitting here, planning my own wedding to my best friend.
The guy who now leaves his socks on the stairs but never misses a full moon ritual.
Who built special ramps for the ducks to access their favorite windowsills, and learned to cook exactly one recipe, mac and cheese, which just so happens to be my comfort meal.
The proposal had been perfectly us. Chinese takeout spread across our coffee table, Salem purring in his lap while we argued over movie choices.
He'd gotten sauce on his shirt trying to demonstrate proper chopstick technique, and right there, in the middle of his passionate defense of skipping yet another horror film, he'd pulled out a ring.
I'd said yes before he finished speaking, and Salem had celebrated by knocking over the sweet and sour sauce.
"Ivy?" Kristal's voice breaks through my thoughts. "About the ceremony arch. I'm thinking copper wrapped in dried flowers and pampas grass, with those vintage bulbs you loved. Very ethereal meets rustic."
"Perfect," I nod, but Caleb's already pulling up designs on his phone, showing off the 3D renders he's been tinkering with in his development software.
"Look, I modeled what that copper arch would actually look like with the lighting," he says, swiping through different angles.
After their game Spirit & Spells hit the top charts, he got a promotion to lead developer at Pixel Dreams.
"About the ceremony," Kristal says, "we need to discuss your flower girl situation. Specifically, how to prevent Freya from turning the aisle into her personal playground."
"She's not that bad," Caleb defends his niece, though his grin suggests he's remembering last Sunday's dinner, when she decided Matt's pasta needed 'decorating' with her juice box. "Besides, she promised to practice."
"She's four," Kristal deadpans.
"That's why we're putting Daphne in charge of her," I say. "She's good with kids, and since she's pregnant, could use the practice."
"Okay, next up is bridal party," Kristal makes a note, "your friend Amelia emailed about flying in early for dress alterations?"
"She's coming from New York," I explain. "She insists on handling all the dresses herself."
"No problem. Also, I've got quotes from three different food trucks, because somehow, I knew 'fancy sit-down dinner' wasn't your style."
"Pizza," Caleb says immediately. "From Cheesy Delights. Martin would never forgive us if we went anywhere else."
"With a side of those spring rolls from Golden Palace that you brought home the night you proposed," I add.
Kristal's glossed lips twitch. "You two really are determined to make this the most perfectly imperfect wedding ever, aren't you?"
"That's kind of our brand," Caleb grins.
The meeting flows into smaller details—seasonal wildflowers, vintage vinyl instead of Virginia and Jefferson's stuffy string quartet from last fall.
Under the table, Caleb's fingers find mine, our hands tangling together like they've done a thousand times before.
His thumb traces absent patterns against my skin while Kristal discusses timeline logistics, and he watches me with so much love that it still makes my heart stumble, even after all these years.
"What?" I whisper, while Kristal debates ceremony start times with her laptop.
His dimples flash. "Just thinking about how far we've come. From late-night takeouts to wedding plans."
I lean into him, remembering all those almost moments. The way we danced around each other, both too scared to admit that what we felt was more than friendship.
"And this," Kristal announces, when we are wrapping up, "is just the beginning!"
Caleb groans, but I laugh, watching sunlight spill across our joined hands. Because she's right. Sometimes the best magic isn't found in spells or crystals—it's found in your best friend, and midnight conversations, and in the way "maybe" turns into "always" when you least expect it.
What started as kind of a big feeling, turned into the biggest love story I never saw coming.