Epilogue
Maeve
“ Do you remember,” begins Bria, perched beside me on the loveseat, Jules at her breast, “the first time I came here? For Thanksgiving? We were like, sixteen.”
“You were still fifteen.” I let the makeup artist tilt my face to apply more bronzer. “Of course, I remember. That’s when you and my brother began your sordid affair.”
“Anyway,” she says loudly, “we were driving up and you showed me a picture on your phone. You said you’d get married in that garden one day.”
I grin, remembering. “I did say that, didn’t I?”
Bria grins, too. “And now here we are.”
Here being the country house in Winchester. “Full circle. Although now that I think about it, you and Evie both stole my thunder.”
“Whatever, you made me get married here,” she says, flicking my arm. “And Evie had no choice in the matter. Right, Evie?”
“Right!” Evie glances over from her conversation with Portia and Delphine. “Uh, what are we talking about?”
“Maeve’s salty she didn’t get married here first when it was her idea,” Bria says.
“Oh, yeah.” Evie glances out at the garden, which is steadily filling with people. “ Well technically, Tristan and I got married in Savannah. We just had our first anniversary here.”
“That’s true, but don’t remind Sloane.” Bria smiles impishly at my mom as she hands Juliet over to her. “Anyway, how does it feel to finally get your dream wedding?”
“It feels like … well, a dream,” I say with a soft laugh. The makeup artist finishes with a small flurry of a shimmery powder and steps away so the photographer can capture a few more behind-the-scenes shots.
Cruz asked me to marry him last Christmas. We’d talked about it, and it was something we both wanted, but I was still surprised when I unwrapped the tiniest box beneath the tree and found a diamond ring inside.
We had a small, private ceremony at St. Brigid’s last week to officially receive the sacrament, but I wanted to have the big wedding up here. Like Bria said, it was what I’d always wanted, ever since I was a little girl, and it was fun bringing those dreams to life. Our guest list isn’t quite as insane as hers and Lucky’s was, but people have been flying in all week and now that the big day is here, the estate is buzzing with excitement.
Rising from the loveseat, I cross the room so I can see my makeup in the mirror. “I can’t get over how beautiful that dress is,” Mom says, fussing with the greenery in my hair while my niece tries to grab a piece. “It’s just so romantic.”
Which is exactly what I was going for. With its intricate embroidery on the bodice, sweetheart neckline and full tulle skirt, it really is the thing dreams are made of. Along with my white bridal ballet flats and the sapphire teardrop earrings from my grandmother, Grace, I feel like the star of my very own dance.
If I’m the principal here, then Bria, Evie, Delphine, and Portia are my corps. I follow them out of the guest house, admiring how the soft, tulle fabric of their matching dresses floats around their legs. “See you soon,” calls Delphine, blowing me a kiss as they disappear into the garden.
Blowing out a nervous breath, I stand beneath a tree and wait for my father. It’s a warm July day, bordering on hot, but thankfully there’s a breeze. I probably could’ve picked a cooler month, but my mother’s garden is a riot of color at this time of year, a fragrant oasis of roses, hydrangeas, peonies, and wildflowers. I’ve always loved the way it looks at the height of summer.
Besides, we have wide panels of pale blush and white chiffon stretched over the rows of wooden chairs, providing shade from the brilliant sun. And it’s late afternoon, so it’ll cool off soon enough. And well, it’s my wedding damn it. This is what I wanted.
When we’re given our cue, Dad gives me his arm and walks me down the aisle where Cruz is waiting with my brothers, his Uncle Armando, and my girls. Bria takes my bouquet when Dad hands me off to Cruz, and Father Twomey, the same priest who once baptized me as a baby, proceeds to bless our vows.
The rest of the world falls away when I look at Cruz’s face. It’s just him and me and everything we went through—chaos and violence, peace and promises, determination and resilience. His dark eyes are softer than I’ve ever seen, filled with something so deep, so steady, that I can hardly breathe. He fought so hard for me. He chose me. And he keeps choosing me every day.
Tears prick at my eyes as he holds my hands a little tighter, like he’s reminding me that we made it. And I know, without any doubt, that I am exactly where I’m supposed to be, with the only person I was ever meant to love forever.
The evening air is balmy and alive with laughter and music. Cruz and I are sitting at one of the long, rustic tables draped with greenery and flickering candles. We’re surrounded by people who love us, and while not everyone knows what it took to get us here, they’re still here because they care.
“Sometimes I still can’t believe this is real,” I say, sipping my non-alcoholic cider after Tristan’s toast. “Not only did we make it out of that place, we ended up here.”
The sun has started setting, painting the sky in vibrant pinks and golds, and strings of twinkle lights blink on around the garden, casting a soft glow.
“It is kind of crazy,” Cruz agrees. Lifting my hand to his lips, he presses a gentle kiss to my knuckles. His hair has grown out again, though it isn’t as long as it once was.“Although I can’t regret that place. It brought me to you.”
“Aww, that’s true.” He’s right. I can’t regret it either. Not only did it bring us to each other, it made us who we are today. Everything that happens in our lives shapes us, and while certain things leave scars, I’m learning that’s not always a bad thing.
A group of distant relatives from Ireland stop by to congratulate us, followed by Cruz’s aunt, uncle, and cousins from Puerto Rico. We chat with them for a minute, raising another small toast and taking a few pictures.
“You know,” I muse as they amble away. “I used to think relationships were supposed to be hard work, but this doesn’t feel like work. It’s easy with you.”
It’s not like we never, ever argue, but there’s no needless drama with Cruz. At one point in my life I’d once accepted that as a normal part of relationships, but now I realize it’s not.
“Yeah, I didn’t do relationships for a long time because of that,” he says. “It seemed like everyone I knew was either fighting or cheating.”
“That’s grim,” I agree.
“It is, but it’s not us.”
“Maybe that should’ve been your vow,” I joke.
“Next time,” he says with a wink.
A live band begins to play, and guests drift to the open area to dance. Slipping out of my lovely but uncomfy ballet flats, I pull Cruz out of his seat so we can join them. He draws me close as we sway to the music, savoring this perfect moment.
Closing my eyes, I melt into him and send up a prayer of thanks. I never thought I could be this happy with someone. I came so close to not having this. What would my life have been like if Cruz had never found me?
And it’s not even like everything is perfect, because it’s not. I don’t have nightmares anymore, and I no longer take medication, but not a day goes by that I don’t think about Callum. Sometimes I still wonder if I could’ve done something differently, but mostly I’ve made peace with it. I’ve had to in order to move on.
I’ve made peace with a lot of things. Instead of being frustrated at the younger versions of myself, I have compassion for them. I’m grateful for them because they gave me what I have now.
“What are you thinking about?” Cruz asks as I rest my cheek on his chest. I’m probably getting makeup all over his suit, but oh well.
“How lucky I am. How far we’ve come,” I say. “All that sappy stuff.”
Suddenly, Cruz swings me around just as a little group of kids barrels by. Bright red punch sloshes from one of their cups, splashing the ground where I was just standing.
“Gotta protect the dress,” he says with a wink, palms pressed to the small of my back as he holds me close.
“That was a close call.” I tiptoe, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Thanks, bodyguard.”
Thanks so very much for reading Maeve and Cruz’s love story. If you enjoyed it, please leave a review or a rating! It’s gold for indie authors and helps others find our books.