Epilogue
LUKE
A year and a half later . . .
“Frank!”
Dogs don’t make good ring bearers, but they sure are cute.
I already have enough to be stressed out about today, and now my darn, effortlessly adorable dog is fumbling down the aisle toward me, zigzagging to get pats from the people on either side. He gets caught up with one of the guest’s kids, who he’s enchanted by since they’re close to him in size.
I squat down as best I can in my suit pants and clap my hands at him. “Come on, Frankie!”
Frank’s body alerts and he hurries over to me, shoving himself up against me, blonde hairs attaching themselves to my black suit.
They’re right about pets being good for cortisol levels. The second I lay my hands on him, I realize how badly my hands have been shaking. My nerves settle, if only for a moment, and I focus on giving my dog all the love for the work he’s done. “Good boy, buddy.”
Sure, the weather turned out perfectly, a balmy seventy degrees, not too hot and not too cool. I shouldn’t be sweating bullets and yet I am, the nerves grinding through me without any sign of stopping. And, yes, the setting is perfect. Claire offered up the perfect patch of land at the sanctuary the second she learned Eleanor and I were engaged. A weeping willow swoons above us, serving as an almost natural altar. From time to time, you can hear the barking of dogs down the hill as they romp around in the field.
Everything is perfect with a capital P, and yet I am vibrating with the anxiety of the next moment.
I thought I’d be fine. Who cares? It’s just a wedding? Eleanor and I are basically married. We live together, our lives completely entangled in every way. This is just another day. Right?
Wrong. Dead wrong.
Frank goes in for face kisses, and I have to hold him back. “Easy, boy! I’m saving my lips for someone else!”
There’s laughter from the guests and, thankfully, Claire rushes over, navy bridesmaids dress and all, and grabs Frank by the harness. She chides him for stealing the spotlight and gives me a smile over her shoulder before returning to her place in the grouping of bridesmaids.
I pat my knees and push myself back up to standing. The second I do, the music shifts, and my stomach drops. The good kind of drop, like the kind you get on a rollercoaster.
It’s happening. It’s really happening.
All the guests rise in preparation for Eleanor’s entrance. I try to steady my breath. Is it hot out here, or is it just me?
Everyone acts like the bride is the one who is doing all the work, walking down the aisle, but I’ve been standing up here with eyes on me for what feels like hours. I’m more than ready for the star of the show.
As I wait for Eleanor to appear from the tent at the end of the aisle where she’s been hidden for far too long, I scan the faces of those who have come today to celebrate, landing on the face of my mother in the front. She’s already gone through half a box of Kleenex. Beside her is an empty seat where my father would be.
“I love you,” I mouth.
She only smiles bigger, though the tears keep coming.
Yeah, that will be me pretty soon.
The tent flaps part, and Eleanor emerges on the arm of her father. As if in a movie, a breeze washes across all of us, fluttering through her wildflower-adorned curls. I don’t know where to begin with how fantastic she looks. Her dress is simple and elegant, classically her. The sleeves are fluttering over her shoulders, lace appliques dancing down the front.
She could have worn a paper bag and still be the most beautiful woman in the world.
Eleanor and her dad walk down the aisle, thanks to the stylings of Bobby Sutton and his band. The jazziest wedding march you’ve ever heard.
From beside me, Randy holds out a handkerchief.
“Dammit, man,” I say. “I’m trying to hold it in.”
He just grins.
I snatch the handkerchief and dab at my eyes just as the tears are about the fall. I can’t stop smiling so hard it hurts, but the pain is completely irrelevant to how perfect this moment is. I never thought I’d care this much about my wedding, and now here I am.
I guess that goes to show you what it means to meet the right person.
Though I’m tired of being up here alone, I could live in this moment forever. Eleanor walks toward me, ready to join me in stepping into our future.
When Eleanor and her dad arrive at the end of the aisle, it takes everything in me not to grab her and kiss her until her glasses are foggy. But I’m a gentleman and this is our wedding day. I’ll have forever to do that.
Her father and I shake hands before he retreats, and it’s just me and Eleanor at the end of the aisle.
Well, and Jolene. When it came to picking an officiant, there was only one woman for the job.
Eleanor’s smile is full of mischief. I narrow my eyes at her. What are you up to?
The smile turns into a full-on grin. She grabs the front of her dress and lifts it just an inch, revealing the tips of blue cowboy boots.
“Something blue,” she whispers.
I shake my head in disbelief. She’s perfect. “I love you.”
* * *
After the ceremony, Eleanor and I only have a moment to celebrate before the marathon of entertaining our guests.
We disappear into the tent, the flaps closing behind us. I pull her into my arms and kiss her the way I wish I could have at the end of the aisle, but it would have absolutely scandalized my mother. “Oh my god, you look amazing,” I say, scrunching my fingers through her hair.
She giggles. “You fogged up my glasses.”
You bet I did. I pull her glasses off and polish them off on my jacket before placing them back on her nose. “That’s better.”
“Hi, husband,” she says, now able to look up at me like I’ve hung the moon.
My heart’s flopping like a fish on a dock. “Hi, wife.”
She grins. “Ooh, that’s fun!”
We both laugh and find ourselves chatting excitedly about everything leading to the big moment, rather than tearing each other’s clothes off which was my original plan. I can’t help it though. I want to know everything.
Sooner than I’d like, we have to go out and greet our public. I make a note to get her alone later to show her just how beautiful she is to me.
We wade through our guests, flashing smiles, sharing conversations, and convincing them to go visit the main cabin to check out all the animals up for adoption. We ply them with enough champagne that some of those fur babies are definitely getting their forever homes tonight.
“God, I’m starving,” she says before swiping some canapes off a passing tray, giving the server a grateful smile. “I haven’t eaten all day.”
“Neither have I,” I reply.
She hip-checks me. “Were you nervous, Luke Wyatt?” “Obviously.”
Eleanor sips her champagne, eyes rolling up, knowing how I exist always in the palm of her hand. “Mm! The truck!”
Everyone has worked on making our day as special as possible, including my mom, who had my dad’s old truck all tuned up to make the drive out here. It’s currently adorned with garlands of flowers and tin cans tied to the tires, with a sign hanging off the back that says “Eleanor and Luke’s Wedding.” It’s serving as a photo op for our guests to have a photo memento of our day.
My mother pops between us and squeezes us to her sides. “If you flip the sign around, it says ‘Just Married!’” she squeals.
“We’re not driving home in that, Mom,” I snort.
“Why not? It was your father’s!”
“Because look at her! She’s in a wedding dress.”
Eleanor scoffs. “So?” She sticks a foot out from under her dress. “I’m in my boots. I’m not too good for a pickup.”
My mom beams up at me. “I love her.”
Lots of friends from the music scene are here, so many friendly faces from my years of music promoting. I’ve scaled back on how much promotion work I’m taking on. I’ve got plans. Big plans. Ideas I never would have had if I hadn’t met Eleanor Hayes.
After dinner, as I promised myself, I manage to get her alone in the main Harmony Hounds cabin, stealing kiss after kiss after kiss.
Eleanor giggles. “Careful, or we won’t be able to stop.”
I cage her against the wall. “That’s my plan.”
“ Luke . . .” she admonishes me.
I wrap a hand around her waist, pull her to me so our hips are locked. “Tell me to stop.”
Eleanor tilts her head back. “Why would I do that?”
Before our lips connect again, someone shouts out, “There you are!”
Eleanor and I jerk apart so violently that I knock a picture frame off the wall. “Dammit,” I mutter.
Claire is standing in the entryway of the cabin, a hand on her hip, eyebrow raised. “Did I interrupt?”
“You’re making up for lost time with this annoying younger sister routine,” I mumble, picking the picture up off the ground. Thankfully, when I flip it, the glass is still intact. I smile to myself at the image of a cat languishing on the windowsill of Claire’s office. Eleanor took it. She’s taken the freelancing photographer thing to heart, and thanks to all of our friends in high places, she’s been able to gain a lot of traction quickly.
It’s my goal to open an event space. Yes, primarily for concerts. But one that is easily convertible for other artistic endeavors such as photography showings. You know, for Eleanor’s work.
My wife’s work.
I like the sound of that.
“It’s time for your first dance,” Claire explains. “Unless you want me to go back and tell everyone that you’ve got more important things to do.”
Eleanor snickers and grabs my hand. “You wouldn’t dare.”
“You never know, I am an annoying younger sister,” Claire replies with a grin.
As Eleanor and I pass Claire, I give her a soft punch on the shoulder. Since we’ve met, Claire and I have gotten along like gangbusters. The Diane I miss is in her, but she’s also a chip off the old Wyatt block. Guess some things about a personality are just inherited.
Mom welcomed Claire with open arms, and since Claire was kind of on her own, she fell right in step with our family. The story might be strange, but for us, it slotted into place just as it should.
When we arrive at the tent, all of our guests cheer as we go to the dance floor.
The opening notes of “Hyacinth” begin to play through the speakers.
Eleanor and I assume a dancing position and begin to sway across the floor. It’s like we’re in our own little world, though we’re surrounded by friends and family.
“ I’ve got arms to hold you too tight / I’ve got words to keep you up all night,” Diane sings. It seems only right that the woman who brought us together has a place in our wedding.
“Are you ready to admit that maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea that I lied about the photo?” I tease in Eleanor’s ear.
She squeezes my shoulder. “In your dreams, Wyatt.”
“ Something told me you were mine / But the world had a different plan ”
The song is about lost love. It's heartrending and complicated. But it’s not what the song says, it's what it does that makes it our song.
I pull Eleanor closer to me, kissing the shell of her ear.
“ In the morning, please remember me / Beautiful and brilliant, the way we used to be ”
“The way we’ll always be,” I whisper.
Eleanor leans her head on my shoulder.
My mother is right. Love isn’t simple.
Not by a long shot.
But dammit, it’s amazing.