Epilogue
“Jamie and Leslie, one year later!” Petra gestures for the crowd beyond the soundstage to cheer. They do, including whooping and howling. It makes me smile. Jamie and Leslie have just finished talking about how they adopted a Bernese mountain dog puppy named Couscous.
When the crowd calms down, Petra gives everyone a sly smile. “Speaking of happily ever afters, let’s talk to one of First Look at Forever’s favorite couples!”
The crowd roars once more as Kit and I walk onto the soundstage set up to look like some kind of modern pink and semi-cozy living room. All the seating is angled toward the cameras, and everyone is perched on the edge of their chairs, dressed to the nines.
Kit keeps his hand on the small of my back all the way across the stage, and he even reminds me to wave and smile at the crowd. I let out a breath when we plop down on the pink sofa on stage left.
The show aired a full nine months after we filmed, and this reunion episode is live. I’ve avoided all cameras, save my cell phone for the occasional TikTok, since we stopped filming. I feel like a toddler learning to walk all over again.
“Welcome.” Petra smiles at us, the glitter on her cheekbones sparkling in the spotlights.
“It’s good to be here,” Kit says smoothly, tugging on the lapels of his jacket. He’s wearing a pocket square I made him—yellow silk. He wore it because it matches the golden underlay of my dress—a one-shoulder number with a snug bodice and my signature flowy skirt overlaid with golden metallic organza, including hidden pockets, of course.
“Now, on decision day, Kit”—Petra glances at the branded notecards in her hands, then pins him with a glare—“you decided to divorce.”
He nods. “I did.”
“You never really explained why.” Petra leans forward, resting her chin on her fist.
Kit clears his throat and leans on the arm of the sofa. “There were a lot of reasons, but the biggest one was that I felt I was never going to be the man Andie needed. So it felt easier to let her go.”
“Andie,” Petra turns her pout at me. “You seemed so upset after Kit gave his answer.”
“I was.” I agree. “I had fallen in love with him. Again. And he decided to walk away.”
Petra nods, her brows drawing together.
I take a deep breath and say, “You see, we both gave in to what scared us.”
“We did.” Kit rests a hand on my knee and squeezes. “And it was the biggest mistake I’ve ever made.”
Petra smiles.
Kit looks at me. “Andie was the one who was willing to put her heart on the line, and she invited me to see her show at Atlanta Fashion Week.”
“So, the question everyone wants to ask is”—Petra looks between us—“are you together now?”
I smile at Kit. He squeezes my knee again. “Yes,” I say. “We are.”
The crowd gets loud, cheering us on.
When it quiets down, Kit looks at Petra. “Thankfully, we realized our mistake before it was too late. We never signed our divorce papers.”
The crowd applauds. I smile, blinking into the stage lights.
When the applause settles, Petra says, “On that note, we have some photos from your vow renewal a few weeks ago.” She gives the crowd a sly look. “Would you like to see them?”
The crowd cheers, and the first photo of Kit and me at the altar for the second time flashes across the projector screen behind Petra. The cheers melt into awwwws.
We’re standing, hand in hand, in the garden of the home we bought together in Decatur. Heidi was the officiant, with tears in her eyes the whole time.
Looking at these pictures on the projector, I’m suddenly so glad we decided to do it again. I’ll never forget seeing Kit waiting for me the first time, back when we had no idea what we were in for. The heart-stopping terror teetering on the edge of pure elation is a heady mix that I will always, always associate with him.
But the second time, I got to drink everything in, because I knew what I was walking into.
Petra says, “Andie, did you design your own dress?”
“I did.” I smile at the picture of us. “It was the only option.”
After several arguments with Kit, I finally relented and, instead of working on my dress into all the wee hours of the morning, I blocked out the time I would have used on a dress for a client to use on myself.
A lot of things have changed about our relationship this go-around, but his relentless insistence that I was worth the time and attention I gave to others was one thing that hadn’t. It never wavered, and a year later, there were split seconds in which I began to find myself believing I was worth it too.
So, during daylight hours, I designed and constructed my own dress. It was relatively simple compared to a lot of the dresses I send down the aisle. There’s no intricate beading or scalloped hems or even a small train. Instead, the magic is in the construction. The panels of the corset are a pale taupe, while I covered the boning in pure white, so you could see the amount of construction that went into it. Normally, I make a point of hiding everything that holds the dress together. The more mysterious the inner workings, the more magical it looks. At least to the untrained eye.
But it didn’t even feel like a choice when I sat down to design my own dress. I didn’t want to hide a thing. The structure—something that isn’t necessarily glamorous—is out there for everyone to see. The real work behind the dress is on full display, and it’s exactly the statement I want to make.
“She was stunning,” Kit interjects. “She’s always gorgeous, but my poor heart wasn’t prepared for her in this dress.”
I roll my eyes at him.
“I mean it.” He reaches for my hand and squeezes. “I’ll remember how you looked walking toward me for the rest of my life.”
“You cleaned up well, yourself,” I tease. He wore a simple black suit and crisp white button-down. A basic black tie around his neck. A pocket square made of the same taupe as in my dress. What the photo doesn’t show is that I also embroidered the buttons on his shirt to all contain a small white flower.
“Speaking of,” Petra smirks at both of us. “Andie, your appreciation for Kit’s … physique has become an internet meme.”
“I am aware, yes.” Since the show aired, I haven’t been able to go a single day without being tagged in one of them. Once, someone even stopped us on the street mimicking my obsession with Kit’s thighs.
Petra looks at the screen. “Let’s look back at those moments.”
I bury my face in my hands as a montage plays of every time I mentioned Kit’s thighs. In between are gratuitous shots of his legs, just for fun. For a while, a mashup of me saying “thighs, thighs, thighs” was a trending sound on TikTok. I used it to advertise a dress I designed with a high slit up the left thigh.
Kit laughs beside me while I continue to blush furiously. The crowd’s laughter sounds genuine, at the very least.
Finally, the montage ends, and Petra asks, “Are his thighs still amazing?”
“That’s a great question,” I tease. I gesture for Kit to stand up.
He waves it off, but the crowd only gets louder.
When Jamie cheers from across the stage, Kit takes a dramatic breath, then stands up for inspection.
The crowd cheers him on as he walks across the stage, posing at intervals, feeding into the applause. Of course, I take the time to enjoy the show too. Kit’s thighs really are a work of fucking art, and I make sure to enjoy them daily. In a fitted suit, he looks absolutely delicious, and I’m already thinking about how to reward him for this display when we get home.
When he finally sits back down, waving off the crowd’s audible disappointment, Petra gestures to the next photo on the screen. “Tonight isn’t the first reunion for season three, is it?”
The picture she’s pulled up is one of all of us at our vow renewal—Kendra riding piggyback on Patrick, who put on his baseball cap with his suit; Jamie and Leslie in a salsa pose with serious faces; Kit and me, laughing so hard our ribs ached. Cassidy and Steve lounge in chairs in front of all of us, wearing Wayfarer sunglasses and playing it cool.
I smile every time I look at it. It reminds me of the journey we took together.
“I’m so grateful we got to have everyone with us.” I press a hand to my chest and look across the soundstage at the other couples. My heart has grown to fit all of them in there. I wouldn’t be where I am without them.
After meeting with investors, I was able to bring Jamie on full-time. Catarina designed an entire five-year plan for my business, which now included manufactured dresses in bridal salons across the South. According to her charts and graphs, we were on track to expand to the Northeast later this year. Ruby oversaw most of the design decisions for those dresses. I designed them, of course, but with manufacturing came modifications to balance cost and profit. Ruby had more knowledge in that arena, and after a year working with her, I trust her taste implicitly. She knew how to swap a more expensive fabric for a less pricey one without sacrificing the integrity of the dress.
I still spent time making dresses for demanding brides, but I cut my calendar by a third and upped my prices. Kit, Catarina, and Jamie teamed up to convince me that was not only feasible, but absolutely necessary as my business grew. It also allowed me more room to take the classes I needed to finish my business degree.
Truly, there are many days I cannot believe this is my life. That I built. Not without help, I learned, but it’s mine, nonetheless.
“And Kit,” Petra guides the conversation, “we all want to know—how is your mom doing?”
Kit beams. “As of last month, she’s cancer-free!”
The crowd screams their excitement along with the rest of the cast. Petra waves to a photo of us at our vow renewal with Maureen, my mom, and Jim.
“It sounds like you two have it all figured out.” Petra beams.
“Hardly.” I wave it off with a snort.
“Yeah, we’re still screwing up most of the time.” Kit reaches over to give my hand a squeeze.
I give him a fond smile, and suddenly we’re the only ones in the room. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
Kit’s eyes crinkle at the corners, his smile so wide it has to hurt. “Me neither, sweet potato.”
Petra has to yell over the crowd’s cheers. “And that’s a wrap on First Look at Forever, Season Three! Join us next season to see if our matchmakers can get it right again!”
But my eyes are still on Kit, and he hasn’t looked away from me. In front of the whole world—or at least the people watching the reunion live—he kisses me, and time stops. While this life feels like a dream made for TV, our love is very, very real.