20. Chapter 20
I smooth my hands down the front of my dress for the hundredth time, trying to calm the nerves fluttering amongst Jellybean’s kicks and rolls.
As stunning as I feel in this dress at nine months pregnant, I still feel like it screams shotgun wedding .
The emotions are building like a roller coaster climbing its tallest peak.
I feel like if someone looks at me the wrong way, I’ll erupt.
The courthouse is quiet for a Friday afternoon.
I still don’t know how Grant was able to make all of this come together so seamlessly, but I’m not focusing on the details.
For once, I didn’t have to do any of the planning and was able to show up.
It feels good to have someone take care of me for once.
Digging through the small clutch I packed, I find my favorite nude-pink lipstick—the kind that almost looks like you aren’t wearing any but gives you the quiet confidence you need.
I swipe it across my bottom lip, pressing it against the plump curve before coating the top.
The woman staring back at me startles me.
Even with the roundness pregnancy has added to my face, there’s a glow.
One that hasn’t always been there, especially at the start of this journey.
This glow is the Grant Campbell effect, and I’m perfectly fine with that.
My light brown hair falls in loose curls, my makeup more glam than my usual neutrals.
Years of sorority formals trained me well.
When I started getting ready this morning, Bret laughed that she knew it was my wedding day and that brides should be worshipped, but she knew nothing about makeup beyond mascara and lip gloss.
The sweetness of the moment cut straight through the wall of nerves I’d been carrying.
This isn’t the wedding I pictured, but somehow, it feels exactly right. Simple.
With one last look in the mirror, I tug down the sleeves before running my hands over the fabric that hugs my bump as if it were made for me. Seriously, I don’t think Bret could have picked a more perfect dress for me, especially since she didn’t know my size.
“You doing okay?” Bret asks beside me, pulling a loose string from my dress. She’s been by my side all day, and I’m grateful. Of course, Brynn and Chloe have texted me nonstop, both happily pissed.
“Yeah.” I nod once, then again. It feels like the more nods I give, the more I’m reassuring myself. “I’m good…I think”
She chuckles, and I take a moment to admire her in the mirror.
Her black hair is slicked into a low twisted bun.
The navy satin dress hugs her like a second skin, a slit up the side flashing a tease of bronze leg, the high neckline showing off her sculpted arms. Hours in the gym and on the basketball court are written all over her.
I turn to her, my hand instinctively resting over my belly. “I can’t believe they fit us in. I thought for sure it’d be next week at the earliest.”
She flashes me a sly grin. “I guess the stars aligned.”
I narrow my eyes at her reflection, but don’t get a chance to press her on it. She pulls her phone out and busies herself. Meanwhile, I feel the swirl of nerves again.
Glancing down at my belly, I rub slow circles over the spot I can feel baby girl pressing her backside against me. I have no idea how there’s any room left for her.
Hey, Jellybean.
I speak to her as if she’s beside me, though the words never leave my mouth. A silent conversation only I can hear. A part of me likes to believe she hears them anyway—feels them.
This isn’t how I thought life would look.
For the longest time, I imagined it was just you and me against the world.
But then came Grant Campbell. Jellybean, that man is impossible to say no to.
Not just because he’s gorgeous—though, my God, the arms on him, those hazel eyes, ohemgee—but because of the way he cares.
The way he loves. I know I shouldn’t go on about how hot he is—not to you, at least, since he’s going to be your dad.
Your dad. Wow. Why does that only hit me now?
But here’s the truth: the man waiting for us already loves you as if you’ve always been his.
You ready?” Bret asks. Her phone vibrates against the counter, and she glances at it. Smiling at whatever she’s reading, she turns her attention toward me. “Let’s go get you married, Sav.”
Tears well in my eyes as her words sink in. Emotions flood my system, and I have to suck in a breath.
It’s time, Jellybean.
I take a deep breath. Then another. Finally, I nod as a watery smile spreads across my face.
We leave the bathroom, and Bret walks ahead of me to the small ceremonial room. The hallway echoes with our steps—my flats whispering, her heels click-clacking in counterpoint.
When we reach the door, she slips inside before turning over her shoulder. “He’s facing the front. You’re good.”
My breath catches in my throat.
Bret holds open the door, and I step into the carpeted space.
It isn’t much—white walls, a wide window, and a flowered arch standing above the officiant and Grant.
My gaze catches on him instantly. Even with his back to me, his black jacket fitted just right, he’s the most handsome man I’ve ever laid eyes on.
Crew sits in a row of chairs, grinning as he watches his girl.
I can’t help but wonder if he’s imagining his own wedding with Bret.
Soft music fills the room as she walks down the aisle.
Rounding Grant’s shoulder, she hugs him, whispering something before sliding into her seat. Then Grant turns around.
Oh my god, the way he looks at me…
Like he’s forgotten to breathe, his lips part, eyes dropping slowly, down my hair, face, dress, and landing on my bump. Something flickers across his face. It’s not only awe, but it’s admiration. Hope. Love.
Slowly, I walk on shaking legs toward him. My heart rattles in my chest as I fight off the stinging in my eyes.
“You look beautiful,” he murmurs against the shell of my ear, so soft I almost don’t catch it.
There’s no hiding the blush that creeps onto my cheeks. “So do you. Did you model for GQ before this?”
I feel his chuckle rumble against my side. His hands find mine, warm and comforting.
The officiant clears his throat and welcomes us before diving in. His words are short, but they weave around the steady thump of my heartbeat. Everything feels like it’s happening at double speed, and I can barely soak it in.
As he starts the traditional vows, Grant interrupts him and reaches into his pocket.
“Sorry to interrupt, but I wrote a little something.” He clears his throat, and I shake my head. Of course he did. “I wasn’t able to get much sleep last night. Instead of counting the clock, I tried to write the thoughts I couldn’t get out. It’s rough and not professionally written, but it’s me.”
Grant’s warm hazel eyes glance up, locking onto mine. He scrubs a hand down his neatly trimmed beard, and my chest tightens.
“Growing up, I was lucky enough to witness a love most people only dream about,” Grant begins. “My parents weren’t flashy. No grand gestures, no extravagant gifts. They just loved each other quietly. Steady. Honest. That’s the kind of love I always wanted. A life with my best friend.
“When I saw you walk into that glass wall at orientation”—the room erupts with laughter—“I knew you needed to be on my radar. Then came the Union, the parties. But it wasn’t until you climbed onto the bar at the Eagles Nest, dressed as Cher from Clueless , and tried to rap ‘Rollin’ with My Homies’ that I knew you were the one. ”
A watery laugh slips free as I shudder at the memory.
“You’ve always been chaos and joy in my life.
Somewhere along the way, you became more.
Labels have never been our thing. Hell, I don’t think we’ve even officially dated each other.
We always had something deeper than friendship, more than anything I’ve ever known.
Now I get to call you mine—for real. I don’t want perfect…
I want the raw, the messy, the too-tired-to-function kind of love. You’re mine forever, Peach.”
My breath stumbles over the sob stuck in my throat. As I feel a few tears streak down my face, I’m grateful I opted for the waterproof mascara.
When the official looks at me, I panic. I didn’t write anything. Hell, I barely knew I was getting married today. But I squeeze his hand, inhale deeply, and step closer.
“I’ve questioned a lot of things in my life, but I’ve never questioned you.
Not once. That’s the kind of man you are.
This isn’t the wedding I pictured, but you were always the type of man I pictured.
There have been many times I’ve wondered if I was enough, if I was good enough for love, but then you walked into my life.
A broody face hidden behind a layer of scruff.
You took one look at me, and I knew I wanted to get to know you better. ” Pausing, I take a second to breathe.
“You’ve never asked me to be anyone but myself.
When I wasn’t ready, you never left my side.
You promised you’d be waiting. And one thing about you is, you don’t break promises.
You see me. You fight for me. And now you’ve made space for my baby, too.
So I promise to love you with all my heart, to be your teammate, your peace, and your best friend. ”
I can feel a tremble wrack through his body as he eyes the officiant, almost as if he’s begging him to finish up.
With a soft chuckle, the officiant declares us husband and wife. As soon as the words leave the older man’s lips, Grant grips my face in his large hands as his mouth descends onto mine.
And with my lips pressed against his, I allow myself to fall.
Fall in love.
Fall into us.
Fall into our forever.
We’ve been driving in silence for a few minutes now—the comfortable kind we often find ourselves in. I love that Grant never feels the need to fill every second with words. We can just be. Just exist in the afterglow of this afternoon.
For most of the drive, Grant has kept his hand relaxed on my thigh, absentmindedly rubbing circles on my exposed skin with his thumb while the other is draped over the steering wheel. Seriously, why is that so hot? And I mean that on a normal basis, not as a hormonal pregnant woman.
As much as the insecurities want to creep in, I refuse to let them tarnish this moment. Grant Campbell chose me.
I am Mrs. Grant Campbell, and my heart has never swelled so much.
I rest my head against the headrest as my eyes shut, savoring the drive with my husband .
“I still can’t believe we got married,” I whisper, and his hand squeezes my thigh gently.
“Believe it, Peach.” I roll my head to the side and find him staring at me with his signature smirk. “You’re now Mrs. Campbell.”
I hum. “Mrs. Campbell. I like the sound of that.”
My eyes drift closed again as I savor this moment. Who knew happiness could feel this good?
After the ceremony, we walked hand-in-hand as Mr. and Mrs. Campbell into a secluded courtyard behind the courthouse.
Oak trees shaded us from the late-afternoon sun, magnolias blooming alongside flowering bushes.
Bret guided us through pose after pose, determined we’d have photos to keep.
Crew kept things light, tossing out jokes and ridiculous comments until Bret nearly fainted when he announced he wanted ten kids.
Just the thought of more than three makes my pregnant belly ache.
Luckily, he was kidding.
“We’re going to show our daughter those pictures one day,” Grant murmurs, lifting his hand from my thigh and rubbing my belly.
“And tell her all about her parents' crazy wedding… Perfect, but crazy.”
He chuckles softly. “And how her mom was crying before we even started the ceremony.”
“Hey,” I say, chuckling. “You cried too.”
His laughter mixes with mine, low and husky. The sound goes straight to my core. He’s planned a whole evening for us to celebrate, and as grateful as I am for that, I’m ready to get him home.
“Fuck yeah, I did. You’re all I’ve ever wanted.”
Grant pulls his truck into a small lot tucked behind an unfamiliar building. I glance around, searching for any clues of where we are. “Where are we?”
“Trust me, Peach?”
“Always.”
He doesn’t answer, only kills the ignition and climbs out. I watch as he walks in front of the truck, making his way to my side. With my door open, I take his outstretched hand and slide out.
The moment my feet hit the ground, the crunch of tires on gravel pulls my attention. Bret’s Jeep rolls into view, Crew easing it into the open space beside us. She lifts her hand in a quick wave from the passenger seat while Crew offers us a nod, his easy smile never slipping.
We wait for them to join us, and Bret pulls me in for a quick hug. “Ready to go celebrate?”
I nod as Grant reaches out his hand. We interlock our fingers, and I follow along as he leads us to the back door. A staff member is waiting for us, holding the door open.
“Welcome, Mr. and Mrs. Campbell,” he greets as we step inside.
He leads us down a hushed hallway, past the muffled clink of dishes and a low hum of conversation, until we reach a private dining room tucked in the corner.
Golden light spills across a white-linen table set for four.
A simple arrangement of eucalyptus and cream-and-peach roses anchors the center, candles glowing softly between the blooms. Instrumental music drifts overhead, warm and low.
“Grant,” I breathe out, freezing in the doorway. My heart flutters as emotion punches me in the chest.
He’s thought of everything to ensure this is a wedding I’ll never forget. Although I’d never forget a second, not with him.
He leans in close, his breath skating over my ear as goosebumps erupt. “Too much?”
I shake my head as more tears well in my eyes. “It’s perfect. Thank you.”
With Bret and Crew hot on our heels, they step in behind us as both of them look around with wide eyes.
“Damn.” Crew whistles. “You’re in charge of planning our wedding.”
“Not a chance in hell,” Grant mutters.
The two move past us, and it’s like Grant and I are frozen in time as I take in the room again. He’s pulled out all the stops. My throat tightens as I press my free hand over my belly.
And for the first time in what feels like forever, I feel utterly loved. Utterly seen. Utterly cherished. The fear from earlier has slipped away, leaving me floating in pure, blissful contentment.
I’m still holding his hand when he leads me farther into the room. The door clicks closed behind us, shutting out the rest of the world.
And for tonight, it’s just us.
Mr. and Mrs. Campbell.