41. Chapter 41
Cate
Present
It wasn’t long before the limo turned onto a long, winding driveway and slowed to a stop beneath a wide, white canopy glowing with soft light.
Trevor reached for my hand before the car fully stopped, his thumb brushing once over my knuckles.
“Ready to go in, Mrs. Reeder?”
The name still felt foreign. Heavy. Like something I was borrowing instead of wearing.
I nodded anyway. That was easier.
He smiled, pleased, and leaned in to kiss me just as the driver opened the door. The timing was perfect. The image, unmistakable.
A kiss. A smile. No room for doubt.
We stepped out together, hands linked, greeted by applause and familiar faces turned toward us expectantly. Trevor lifted our joined hands slightly, acknowledging the crowd like this was a moment he’d always known how to inhabit.
The reception took my breath away.
Even with an eye trained to notice details, I hadn’t expected this.
The club, already beautiful, had been transformed.
White linens draped every table, glowing softly beneath strings of tiny lights crisscrossing overhead.
Glassware sparkled. Music drifted through the space, warm and full, as guests laughed and danced and celebrated something that looked, from the outside, exactly right.
I found myself smiling without thinking.
The band shifted, easing into a slower song.
It took me a moment to recognize it - “Perfect” by Ed Sheeran.
My breath caught.
Trevor glanced down at me. “Would you like to dance?”
The question was polite. Public. Expected.
I hesitated only a second before nodding.
He guided me onto the dance floor, one hand settling confidently at my waist, the other clasping mine. We moved easily - practiced, even - swaying beneath the lights as the world narrowed to the rhythm between us.
“How are you doing?” he asked softly, close to my ear. Anyone watching would’ve seen a couple in love.
My throat tightened. The song wrapped around memories I hadn’t invited in - snow under boots, laughter caught mid-breath, hands that had held me without asking me to be anything else.
“It’s beautiful,” I said instead. “All of it.”
He hummed, satisfied. “It turned out exactly how I wanted.”
After a moment, I slipped from his hold and stepped toward the edge of the tent, needing air. The sky beyond had darkened to a deep blue, the last trace of sunset lingering low on the horizon.
For a heartbeat, I let myself imagine him there. Watching.
Trevor came up behind me, his presence immediate, and familiar. He didn’t touch me right away.
“What are you thinking about?” he asked.
I hesitated, then leaned back into him, his hands coming around my waist, fingers interlacing with mine like an anchor.
“I don’t know,” I said quietly. “It just feels like… like someone’s watching over me.”
He didn’t need me to explain.
Trevor’s grip tightened slightly, not uncomfortable, but reassuring.
“That’s normal,” he said calmly. “Big days do that. They make you sentimental.”
His chin rested briefly against my temple.
“But you’re here now,” he added. “With me.”
I nodded, even though he couldn’t see it.
The band played on behind us. The lights shimmered overhead.
And from the outside, everything still looked perfect.
I stayed there for a few moments longer, letting the music and voices wash over me. Guests drifted past - hugs, congratulations, quick touches at my arm before moving on. Someone pressed a glass into my hand. Someone else laughed too loudly nearby.
Trevor was pulled away by his brother, then by an older couple I didn’t recognize, his smile firmly in place as he turned back into the crowd. He glanced over his shoulder once, just to check that I was still where he’d left me.
I was.
I took a steadying breath and stepped farther toward the edge of the tent, where the lights softened and the night pressed closer.
Seth found me just past the line of light where the music softened and conversations blurred into background noise.
“Hey,” he said gently.
I turned, startled. “Hey.”
Courtney hovered a few steps behind him, giving us space without being asked. Seth smiled at me, careful and familiar.
“You look… beautiful,” he said.
“Thank you.” My voice wobbled more than I wanted it to.
He hesitated, then lowered his voice. “I wanted to tell you - I almost didn’t come over. I didn’t want to make this harder than it already is.”
I shook my head quickly. “I’m glad you did.”
Seth studied my face for a second, then nodded, like he’d come to a decision.
“He would be happy for you,” he said quietly.
The words landed harder than anything else had all day.
My breath caught. “You don’t know that.”
“I do,” he said without hesitation. “You were everything to him. He loved you. And he always wanted you safe. Taken care of.”
Something inside me cracked.
I pressed my lips together, shaking my head, but it was too late. Tears spilled over anyway, hot and sudden, blurring the lights overhead.
“I didn’t plan for this,” I whispered. “I swear I didn’t.”
Seth stepped closer, lowering his voice even more. “I know.”
He didn’t touch me. He didn’t rush me. He just stayed.
“You’re allowed to miss him,” he added. “Even today.”
I wiped at my cheeks, embarrassed, grateful, undone all at once.
“Thank you, I…” I closed my eyes, “I just miss him so much.”
He smiled softly. “Me too.”
Courtney gave me a small, warm smile from where she stood. A quiet blessing.
When Trevor called my name from across the tent, Seth stepped back immediately, as if he’d never been there at all.
Trevor reached me in a few long strides, his hand settling at the small of my back as if it had always been there.
“Everything okay?” he asked quietly.
I nodded, swiping once at my cheeks and willing myself steady. “Yeah.”
He didn’t question it, just took my hand and guided me toward our table as guests began to find their seats, the hum of conversation shifting as plates were cleared and glasses refilled. The band softened, fading into background music as servers moved between tables.
I sat when Trevor pulled out my chair, folding my hands in my lap as if I hadn’t just been undone moments ago.
Amy tapped her glass, grinning as the room slowly quieted.
“Okay,” she said. “I promise to keep this short. Mostly because I know everyone wants to get back to drinking.”
Laughter rippled through the crowd.
“I’ve known Cate for a long time,” Amy continued, her voice softening. “Long enough to know that she feels things deeply. Sometimes too deeply. She loves fiercely, and she shows up, even when it costs her something.”
I swallowed hard.
“And Trevor,” Amy said, turning toward him, smiling, “you’ve always been steady. Grounded. You bring calm into her chaos, and I know that means more to her than you probably realize.”
She lifted her glass.
“So here’s to love, and patience, and choosing each other every day - even when it’s not easy.”
“To Cate and Trevor.”
The applause felt warm. Earned.
When it faded, conversations rose again, and I felt myself slipping back into the rhythm of smiling on cue.
Jim stood next. He cleared his throat once, his posture straight, expression composed.
“Family,” he began, “is built on commitment. On tradition. On shared values.”
Trevor nodded beside me, pleased.
“I’m proud of the life my brother has built,” Jim continued. “And I’m proud of the woman he’s chosen to build it with.”
His gaze landed on me briefly. “This marriage represents stability. Partnership. A future built the right way.”
The words settled heavy and final.
“To Trevor and Cate,” he finished.
Applause followed and Trevor squeezed my hand.
The night blurred after that - congratulations, hugs, glasses raised and lowered, smiles that began to ache.
Eventually, Trevor leaned in. “We should go.”
There was no question in it.
The crowd gathered again beneath the lights as we made our way out, the band striking up one last song as guests cheered and waved.
Outside, another limo waited, sleek and dark this time, the engine already running.
Trevor held the door open, his hand firm at my back as I stepped inside.
The door shut.
The noise faded.
And just like that, the night, and the day, fell away behind us.