Epilogue #2
The woman looking back at me still loved beautiful dresses, elegant dinners, and hosting friends around a crowded table.
She still worked long hours and cared too much about how a room felt when people walked into it.
The difference was that none of those things felt like a role I had to perform anymore.
They were simply parts of the life I had chosen.
A knock sounded on the door and Lilly’s voice came from the hallway. “It’s time.”
I took one last look at the reflection before turning toward the door. For most of my life I believed that being honest about who I was might cost me the life I had built, but standing there in that quiet room I understood something different.
Telling the truth had not taken that life away from me. It had given me one that finally felt like my own.
* * *
Sawyer
The room smelled faintly like flowers and polished wood, the kind of quiet, clean scent that came with places designed for important moments.
I stood at the front of the aisle with my hands clasped loosely in front of me and tried not to shift my weight every three seconds like Benji had already warned me not to.
“You’re fidgeting,” he muttered under his breath beside me.
“I’m not,” I said without looking at him.
“You absolutely are,” he replied. “Your left foot has moved four times.”
I exhaled slowly and forced myself to stand still.
Benji was my best man, which meant he had been watching me like a hawk since the moment we got here.
He stood next to me in a dark suit that somehow looked almost respectable despite the fact that I knew he had tried to convince the tailor to add embroidered flames to the inside of the jacket.
On the other side of him stood Vic and Jay, along with the rest of our crew from the shop.
Seeing them all lined up there in suits felt surreal in a way I hadn’t expected.
A year and a half ago most of us had been standing in the middle of a welding shop arguing about measurements and eating takeout at midnight.
Now they were here at my wedding, dressed like they belonged in a magazine spread.
Vic caught my eye and grinned. “You good?” she asked quietly.
“Yeah,” I said.
It wasn’t a lie. It just wasn’t the whole truth either.
The truth was that my chest felt tight with a kind of nervous energy I hadn’t experienced in a long time.
It wasn’t fear exactly. It was more like standing at the edge of something huge and knowing there was no version of the future where you walked away from it.
Benji leaned slightly toward me. “If you pass out,” he said, “I’m not carrying you.”
“I’m not going to pass out.” I rolled my eyes.
“You look like you might.” He teased.
I glanced down at my hands and flexed my fingers once before letting them settle again.
The suit fit perfectly. Addison had insisted on going with me when I got it tailored, even though I told her she didn’t need to.
She sat in the corner of the shop watching the whole process with a quiet smile that made the tailor nervous for reasons he probably couldn’t explain.
It was black and fitted through the shoulders, the cut sharp and clean in a way that made me stand a little straighter when I put it on. The shirt underneath was crisp white, and the accents Addison had chosen were subtle enough that I barely noticed them until she pointed them out.
“You still look like you,” she had said when I tried it on.
That had mattered more than I expected. I shifted my shoulders slightly and looked down the aisle.
The room was full. I recognized most of the faces now. Addison’s friends were scattered through the front rows, along with her family. My chosen family was all there, people I’d known forever, people who had my back when no one else did.
A year ago the idea of all those worlds sitting in the same room might have made Addison nervous. Now it just felt right.
The music started softly from somewhere behind me, and the room quieted almost immediately. Conversations faded and chairs shifted as everyone turned toward the back of the aisle.
Benji nudged my elbow. “Okay,” he murmured. “Here we go.”
I lifted my head. Addison stepped into view at the far end of the aisle with her father beside her.
For a second everything else in the room stopped existing.
I had seen Addison in a thousand different moments over the last year and a half.
I had seen her in sweatpants in our kitchen at midnight while she scrolled through listings on her laptop.
I had seen her standing barefoot in our backyard with dirt on her hands after planting something she insisted would grow better this time.
I had seen her leaning against the doorframe of the workshop watching sparks fly while I worked.
None of those moments prepared me for this one.
The dress was white and elegant in a way that somehow still looked like her. The fabric moved softly around her as she walked, and the light from the windows caught in her hair in a way that made the whole room feel brighter.
She looked straight at me. Not at the guests. Not at the flowers. Just at me.
I felt something in my chest shift so hard that I had to take a slow breath to keep my footing.
Benji leaned toward me again.
“You’re staring,” he whispered.
“Yeah,” I said quietly.
Addison’s father walked beside her with one hand resting lightly on her arm, and when they reached the front of the aisle he paused before stepping back.
He looked at me for a moment. Then he nodded.
The gesture was simple, but it carried a weight I understood perfectly. Take care of her. I nodded back. Addison stepped forward until she stood right in front of me.
Up close the details hit harder.
The way her hands trembled just slightly when she reached for mine. The way her eyes looked bright with emotion she was trying very hard not to let spill over. The way she smiled at me like the rest of the room had disappeared.
“You look incredible,” I said quietly.
She laughed softly under her breath. “So do you.”
“You’re shaking,” I said.
“So are you,” she replied.
The officiant cleared her throat gently. “We’re gathered here today,” she began, “to celebrate the marriage of Addison and Sawyer…”
Her voice carried through the room, but most of the words blurred together as I focused on the feeling of Addison’s hands in mine. Warm. Steady. Real.
The officiant spoke about commitment and partnership and the way two lives could grow stronger together. I caught pieces of it, but the important part was standing right in front of me.
Eventually the officiant smiled and nodded toward us.
“We’ll begin with vows,” she said.
Addison looked at me first.
She took a small breath and tightened her fingers around mine before she started speaking.
“When I met you,” she said, her voice steady but soft, “I thought loving you would complicate my life.” A few quiet laughs moved through the room.
She smiled slightly. “I spent a lot of time worrying about where you would fit. I thought the worlds I knew were too different from yours, and I was afraid that if I brought you into them something would break.”
Her thumb brushed lightly across the back of my hand.
“What I didn’t understand then was that you weren’t the risk,” she continued. “You were the answer.”
My chest tightened.
“You taught me what it feels like to stop pretending,” she said.
“You showed me that the people who really love you don’t disappear when you tell the truth.
They move closer.” She took another breath.
“I promise to build a life with you that feels honest and warm and full of the things we both love. I promise to show up for you even when things are messy or hard. I promise to keep choosing you the way I did that night in our kitchen when you asked me to marry you like it was the most obvious thing in the world.” Her smile widened slightly.
“And I promise to keep loving you in the quiet moments that no one else sees, because those are the ones that matter most.”
The room was silent when she finished. The officiant looked at me. “Your turn.”
I shifted my grip on Addison’s hands slightly and took a breath.
“I don’t make speeches,” I said, my voice carrying just enough to make the front rows smile. “So, this is terrifying.” That earned a soft laugh from somewhere behind us. “But I do know a few things.”
I tightened my hands gently around Addison’s and met her eyes.
“I know that the first time I saw you was in a crowded bar on Benji’s birthday. You were standing there looking like you had wandered into the wrong place entirely. Too put together. Too polished. Like someone had dropped you into the middle of a room that ran on spilled beer and bad decisions.”
A ripple of laughter moved through the guests.
“But I couldn’t stop looking at you,” I continued. “There was something about you that didn’t match the version of yourself you were trying to sell the world, and I remember thinking I wanted to know what that version looked like when no one else was watching.”
Addison’s fingers tightened slightly in mine.
“I fell in love with that version of you,” I said quietly.
“The one who laughs too hard when she forgets to be careful. The one who curls up on the couch with spreadsheets and wine and somehow calls that relaxing. The one who shows up in my shop in heels and asks questions about welding like she’s interviewing me for the job. ”
A few people laughed again, and Addison shook her head slightly, smiling through the emotion gathering in her eyes.
“You let yourself be real with me,” I continued. “And that is the bravest thing anyone has ever done for me.”
My voice softened as I went on.
“I love you more than I know how to explain in a speech like this. I love the life we’ve built together. I love the house we made into a home. I love that every morning I wake up next to someone who chooses me the same way I choose her.”
Addison’s eyes were bright now, but she didn’t look away.