Epilogue
The Austin sun is doing its best to melt my carefully applied mascara, but I don’t give a flying puck. Because in approximately
T-minus twenty minutes, I’m getting married.
Cue the internal freak-out in three . . . two . . . one . . .
“Earth to Harriet,” Brooke singsongs, waving a pinot noir in front of my face. “Your brain’s doing its thing again, isn’t
it? The one where you try to calculate the statistical probability of tripping over your dress?”
I snort, grabbing the glass. “Please. I’ve optimized this dress for maximum mobility and minimum wardrobe malfunction potential.
The only thing I’m calculating is how quickly I can get Gale out of his suit later.”
Brooke fake gags. “That’s my brother you’re talking about, you horny nerd.”
“Your smokin’ hot, soon-to-be-my-husband brother,” I correct her, taking a swig of wine. It does nothing to calm the butterflies
having a rave in my stomach.
Across Gale’s backyard—because apparently, we’re the kind of couple who says “screw tradition” and get hitched next to the
pool—I spot the man himself. He’s laughing with Tucker Taylor, looking like sex on skates in his navy suit. Our eyes meet,
and suddenly I’m tongue-tied and blushing because the kid brother I knew grew up into a whole fine man.
Except now, that fine man is about to put a ring on it. How the hell did I get this lucky?
A loud meow interrupts my ogling. I look down to see Deke, one of our feline overlords, attempting to climb my leg. Her sister,
Biscuit, is probably plotting world domination from under a bush somewhere. Or eating a shoelace. It could go either way with
that one.
“No, you furry little demon,” I mutter, detaching her from my dress. “You can’t be the ring bearer if you’re determined to
make me flash the entire guest list.”
“Still can’t believe you’re letting the cats participate,” Brooke says, shaking her head.
I shrug. “They’re family too. Besides, E.M.M.A. calculated a thirty-seven percent increase in ceremony uniqueness with their
inclusion.”
On cue, the sleek console housing E.M.M.A.’s central processor lights up. A holographic display flickers to life, showing
a 3D rendering of the backyard. It’s like Minority Report, but with more tipsy hockey players.
Greetings, Harriet, E.M.M.A.’s cool voice intones. My calculations indicate that optimal ceremony commencement will occur in approximately seven minutes and twenty-three seconds.
Shall I notify the officiant? And send a message to your father that it’s time to walk you down the aisle?
I snort. “Even on my wedding day, you’re trying to optimize everything, huh? Thanks, E.M.M.A., but I think we’ve got this
one.”
As the display flickers off, I catch sight of my dream team—Karl, Amir, and Hana—huddled by the bar with margaritas and chowing
down on the chips and salsa. Mental note: give them all raises and force them to take vacations.
A burst of laughter draws my attention across the deck. Lizzy Wooddash, an outspoken British author, is holding court, her hands fluttering animatedly. Tuck’s long-distance girlfriend is clearly in her element, regaling her audience with what I can only assume is a delightfully scandalous tale.
I can’t help but smile. Lizzy’s irreverence is a breath of fresh air when she is in town.
“It’s time,” Brooke says softly, squeezing my arm.
And just like that, the butterflies in my stomach transform into a flock of pelicans. This is it. The moment I’ve been dreaming
of and dreading in equal measure. Not because I have any doubts about marrying Gale—hell no—but because suddenly, all eyes
will be on me. The introvert in me wants to dive into the pool and hide.
Brooke must sense my impending panic attack because she grabs my shoulders, forcing me to meet her eyes. “Hey. You’ve got
this, sis. Just keep your eyes on Gale and remember—if you trip, I’ll create a diversion by flashing everyone.”
“Oh my god, I love you aren’t letting motherhood cramp your wild style.” I bark out a laugh, some of the tension draining
from my body. “You’re the best, you know that?”
“Duh.” She grins. “Now, let’s go get you hitched so we can be sisters for real.”
The string quartet starts to play, and a hush falls over the gathering. My father is next to me.
“Ready, honey?” he asks.
I watch as Gale takes his place at the end of our makeshift aisle, looking like every fantasy I’ve ever had come to life.
Our eyes lock and in that moment, I understand why Orpheus risked everything to look back at Eurydice—some loves are worth
defying the gods for. Suddenly, I can’t wait another second to be his wife. “So ready. Let’s do it.”
I barely register the walk down the aisle. One moment I’m nervous, and the next, I’m standing in front of Gale, close enough to count his obscenely long eyelashes. My entire body calms—instinctively knowing that I’m home.
“Hi, doc,” he whispers, taking my hands in his.
“Hi,” I whisper back, grinning like an idiot.
The officiant’s words drift through the air, but I find my attention captivated not by the ceremony, but by Gale and his tailored
suit. A slight quirk of his eyebrow tells me he’s caught me ogling, and approves.
We exchange vows—promises to love, support, and thoroughly ravish each other for the rest of our lives. Just kidding; the
last part is only in our heads. When Gale slips the ring onto my finger, his hand trembles slightly. I squeeze his fingers,
our eyes meeting in a moment of shared vulnerability that makes my heart ache with love.
“By the power vested in me by the State of Texas,” the officiant says, “I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss
the bride.”
Gale doesn’t need to be told twice. He pulls me flush against him, one hand tangling in my hair as he kisses me like he’s
a man starved and I’m a five-course meal. It’s hot and sweet and perfect, and I never want it to end.
A loud meow breaks the moment. We look down to see Biscuit, sitting at our feet and looking thoroughly unimpressed with our
public display of affection. Deke answers from under a chair in the back.
The crowd laughs, and I can’t help but join in. Trust our cats to keep things real.
“Shall we, Mrs. Knight?” Gale asks, offering me his arm and looking at me like I’ve just scored the game-winning goal in the
Stanley Cup finals. Except that had been him.
I nod, linking my arm through his. “Lead the way, Mr. Knight.”
As we walk back down the aisle, now officially hitched, I’m hit with a wave of emotion so strong it nearly knocks me off my feet. This is real. This is happening. I just married the love of my life, surrounded by our weird and wonderful family of friends, teammates, and, yes, E.M.M.A.
As the night wears on, I find myself taking a moment to just . . . breathe. To soak it all in. My parents laughing with Regals
players. Lizzy, teaching Gale’s team some kind of drinking game that’s definitely going to end in regret and ibuprofren. Brooke
and her family, cooing over Deke and Biscuit, who have claimed the gift table as their new kingdom.
It’s messy and imperfect and absolutely fucking beautiful.
Warm, strong arms wrap around me from behind, and I lean back into Gale’s chest with a contented sigh.
“Penny for your thoughts, Mrs. Knight?” he murmurs, his lips brushing my ear in a way that makes me shiver.
I turn in his arms, looping my own around his neck. “Just thinking about how lucky I am. And how much I love you. And how
badly I want to get you out of this suit.”
Gale’s eyes darken, his hands tightening on my waist. “Is that so?”
“Mmm-hmm,” I nod, playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. “Think anyone would notice if we snuck away for a bit? To
visit California.” My nickname for the giant bed.
He flashes that cocky, gap-toothed grin of his, and just like always, I feel my breath catch in my throat. “Only one way to
find out.”
As Gale leads me toward the house, I’m hit with a sudden wave of emotion. For once, I’m glad there’s no formula to explain
the way my heart races, the way my skin hums with anticipation. Some things are better left unmeasured, felt instead in the
spaces between heartbeats.
Love, joy, friendship, the warmth of Gale’s hand in mine—these are the variables that defy any algorithm, that make life beautifully unpredictable.
As I follow my husband (my husband!) toward our first of many wedding night celebrations, I make a silent vow.
I’ll embrace this unpredictability, cherish these unquantifiable moments.
For all my reliance on data, it’s these immeasurable things that truly make life rich and wonderful.
And right now, with Gale, I’m diving headfirst into a sea of unmapped possibilities—no calculations needed. I’m all in on whatever comes next.
Because in the end, it’s not about having a perfect, optimized life. It’s about having one filled with love, laughter, and
the occasional chaos of orange cats.
And you know what? I wouldn’t have it any other way. Let’s see if E.M.M.A. can calculate the probability of my having a very enjoyable evening.