Chapter 11
Mason
“Good Lord, it’s hot in here,” I mutter, tugging at my collar in the mirror. “Are you guys hot? I’m hot. I think I’m nervous.”
“You think?” Cody snorts, leaning back in the plastic kids’ chair that looks seconds away from snapping.
We’re crammed into the Sunday School room—the world’s smallest, most suffocating room—where the clock on the wall is ticking too loud.
I’m not nervous to marry Megan. I’m just…nervous about the whole ordeal. I’m ready to get down that aisle so we can both breathe again.
Jesse claps both hands on my shoulders, hard, and gives me a shake. “You’ll be fine,” he says. “Just think about tonight.”
“Yeah.” I laugh, rolling my eyes. “’Cause that really calms my nerves, Jess.”
“You’re gonna look back in a few weeks and laugh about how worked up you were over it,” Cody says, stretching his legs out like he owns the place.
“No, I don’t think I will.” I adjust my tie again.
They exchange a look, one of those wordless brother-to-brother conversations.
“Alright,” Cody says, standing and patting the chair beside him. “I’ll run you a quick lesson.”
“A lesson?” I repeat.
“Sit.” He pats the chair again. Reluctantly, I do as he says.
“First off,” Cody says, leaning forward, brows raised, “tell me you know the basics.”
I glare at him.
“Cody, don’t give him a hard time,” Jesse says, settling into the chair across from us. “Look at him.”
“I’m helping,” Cody argues. “My biggest piece of advice? Stretch.”
“Stretch?” I blink.
“Oh, for Pete’s sake.” Jesse groans. “Don’t listen to him.”
“What?” Cody throws his hands up. “I wish someone would’ve told me that!”
“He’s not pulling a hamstring the first time,” Jesse says, fully serious.
“Who’s pulling a hamstring at all?” I ask, looking between them. Nobody answers me.
“He needs to be prepared,” Cody insists.
“That is the last thing he needs to be thinking about,” Jesse fires back, laughing.
“Oh yeah? Then what’s your foolproof advice?” Cody challenges.
Jesse looks to me, expression softening. “There are only three things you actually need to remember. One, it’s not a race. Two, be gentle. And three, talk to her.”
Then Cody shoots Jesse a mysterious grin. “Fourth—and this one’s optional—if you’re feeling confident…eye contact.”
They both start laughing.
I groan. “I should’ve just talked to Dad,” I mutter.
They both laugh harder, full of themselves for the moment. And once they settle down, Jesse looks at me.
“You’ll be fine, Mase. You love her, she loves you…everything will fall into place.”
“Yeah,” Cody adds, clasping a hand on my shoulder. “Tonight’s just the start. You’ve got the rest of your lives to perfect it.”
That actually makes something in my chest loosen. I breathe out slowly.
“Yeah,” I say. “Okay. Thanks.”
“Anytime,” Jesse says.
They head for the door, and right before it closes, I hear Cody mutter, “I bet you fifty bucks he’s gonna wish he stretched.”
It’s followed by a sharp whack and Jesse’s voice—“You’re an idiot.” I can’t help but laugh.
The door swings open again, and Dad steps in, passing them in the hall with a raised brow. He looks at me for half a second and smirks.
“You look nervous,” he says, sitting down beside me.
“I’m a little nervous,” I admit. “Cody and Jesse just gave me advice about tonight, which I’m not even thinking about right now.”
“And did that help”—Dad chuckles—“or make it worse?”
“I’m…not sure,” I say honestly.
“Well”—he leans back, arms crossed the way he does when he’s settling into Dad Mode—“you’ve gotta remember, they’re both a little more seasoned.”
“Yeahhh.” I laugh. “I know.”
“I wish I could remember what I would’ve wanted someone to tell me back then, before I married your mother,” he says, sighing. “But that was a long time ago.”
“Right.”
“I guess the run-of-the-mill advice still stands. Just take your time, enjoy it, enjoy her.”
I nod. “I will.”
“I don’t doubt that,” he says warmly, patting my back before standing. He heads toward the door, then pauses with one hand on the frame.
“Oh—one more thing.” He looks over his shoulder, eyes sparkling with mischief. “Two words, Son: Ladies first.”
My face burns hotter than the grill on Fourth of July. He winks, then disappears down the hall before I can do anything but laugh and shake my head.
* * *
The church looks like something out of a magazine—baby blue ribbons tied around the pews, soft pink and yellow flowers in mason jars along the aisle. The sunlight pours through the old stained glass, scattering colors across the floor.
It’s simple, small-town perfect.
I’m standing up front with the pastor, trying to look composed, but I can feel the nerves all the way down to my boots. My palms won’t stop sweating.
And then the piano finally starts, and everyone quiets.
The bridesmaids appear first—Addison, Ella, and Karissa—each one in a light-blue dress.
The flower girls, Emma and Cora, follow behind, scattering petals with the kind of cuteness only toddlers can have.
Cora drops her entire basket halfway down the aisle, gasps, and runs back to pick it all up.
Laughter breaks out, and Jesse chuckles behind me.
But when the music changes, I forget how to breathe. The doors open, and there stands Megan.
Her arm is hooked through her dad’s, sunlight hitting her hair just right. Her dress isn’t overly fancy. Simple. Understated. Lace at the sleeves, the skirt part fitted. She’s got a bouquet of pink and yellow flowers in her hands, and her smile…that smile could stop the world.
I swallow hard. Jesse whispers behind me, “Breathe,” with a tap against the heel of my boot.
I do, but barely.
When she reaches the front, I take her hand and lead her up the two steps.
We both smile at each other, eager to confess our private compliments, but we can’t because the pastor starts speaking.
His voice is warm and steady, talking about love and covenant and faith.
But most of it drifts right over me. I can’t look anywhere but at her.
She keeps fidgeting with my hands, cheeks pink, the corners of her mouth fighting a smile every time our eyes meet.
When it’s time for vows, she goes first, in a soft, trembling voice that still fills the room.
“Mason. You pursued me in the most steady, patient way—showing up, choosing me, loving me without making it complicated. And that’s how I knew you were it. I promise to choose you the same way. To love you, to pray with you, laugh with you, and trust God with every season He gives us.”
I blink fast. There’s no stopping the emotion rising in my chest.
When it’s my turn, I take a shaky breath.
“You know I’m not great with words,” I start, and the room chuckles.
“But I know this much, Megan—you’ve changed everything.
My mornings, my nights, how I see the world.
I didn’t know how much I needed you in my life until you were already part of it.
And I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to love you like you deserve to be loved. ”
She smiles, tears brimming, and when the pastor says I can kiss her, I don’t wait. The whole church erupts in cheers, the sound of clapping and laughter filling the air as I pull her close.
* * *
The reception’s in my parents’ backyard. The tables are covered in blue gingham, the smell of barbecue in the air.
Mom’s talking to Megan’s mom near the dessert table. Dad’s playing horseshoes with other men. Addison’s holding Hallie and talking to Emma, who’s spinning around in her dress to show how it twirls.
Megan and I make our way from table to table, saying hi, hugging people, getting pulled into conversations about where we’ll go for the honeymoon and how wonderful being married is.
When the music starts, I tug Megan toward the center of the yard for our first dance, which we’ve only rehearsed a few times. The first notes of a slow song drift through the air, and she hesitates, laughing.
“Everyone’s watching,” she whispers.
“Doesn’t matter.” I pull her closer, my hand finding the small of her back. “This is all that matters.”
We sway under the lights, the warm summer air moving around us. Her head rests on my chest, and for a moment, everything fades. The chatter, the kids, the music. It’s just her heartbeat against mine.
When the song ends, the family joins in, and the yard turns into a tangle of laughter and spinning dresses. I catch glimpses of Mom smiling through tears, Dad grinning wide, Ella trying to keep the girls quiet. And I think, This is it. This is everything I ever wanted.
As the sun dips low and the lights glow brighter, Megan squeezes my hand. “We did it.”
“Yeah,” I murmur, leaning down to kiss her. “We did.”
And I know right then, whatever comes next, good or bad, we’ll face it together.
Because this—her in my arms, the sound of our family laughing, the warmth of this night—is exactly what forever’s supposed to feel like.
* * *
I shut our front door. Megan already took her heels off in my truck and I take a second to slip out of my boots.
“I can’t believe we’re here. Wedding day’s done, and we’re here, and—”
“Wedding day isn’t over until we say it is.”
She makes a face of pure enjoyment. “Oooh, that was smooth.”
“You like that?” I grin, eyeing her once more as she laughs.
We head upstairs to our room. She’s got her dress pulled up and I’m still carrying some of it behind her so she doesn’t trip.
“Bet you’re excited to get out of this.”
“I bet you’re excited to get me out of it,” she says, laughing over her shoulder.
“Not gonna argue.”
We reach our room and she turns to me after checking herself out in the mirror.
“You realize I have, like, a hundred pins to get out of my hair, right?” she says.
“I’m a patient man,” I murmur, already sliding one loose. It clatters to the floor. “Ninety-nine to go.”
Her laugh is soft, warm, and her fingers reach for more.
I do too. We stand there—side by side in the mirror—carefully removing every last pin.
It feels weirdly intimate, this slow undoing of the day.
Her wedding dress. Her hair. Her makeup slightly smudged from hours of smiling and dancing. My tie crooked and hair a mess.
It takes longer than both of us want, but we finish the job. When we finally get all the pins out, she feels her hair, making a face as she touches different parts of it.
“Are you gonna kill me if I shower? I can’t stand how it feels with all the product,” she says.
“Course not. I should probably get one too, actually. I’ve been sweating since this morning.”
She laughs and looks at me with full-on mischief in her eyes, the kind that hits me square in the chest. “You could join me…”
My eyebrows lift. “Oh yeah?”
I lean in and kiss her once, slow and certain. “I’m so in.”
She grins, cheeks pink, and tugs gently at my hand. “Come on.”
We walk into the bathroom, and she turns on the shower before she reaches for the zipper of her dress, then pauses and turns to look at me.
“Can you…?” she whispers.
“Yeah,” I breathe.
My fingers ease the zipper down, inch by inch, the fabric coming loose under my hands. She exhales softly, the kind of breath that says she’s nervous but trusting me anyway.
She turns back around, her eyes meeting mine. “Your turn,” she murmurs, her hands trembling just a little as she unbuttons my shirt.
When it falls open, her fingers brush my skin lightly. I cup her face gently, kissing her again, slow and careful. My heart races more, and before I know it, our clothes are scattered and we step into the warm steam together. The rest of the night fades quietly into the space meant only for us.