29. Into the Unknown
INTO THE UNKNOWN
Hazel is crouched on my bedroom floor, waging war with a travel steamer and the hem of my wedding dress.
“Why does this thing have more layers than my life?” she mutters, frowning at a stubborn crease.
“Because I have bad taste in free time,” I say, sitting cross-legged on the bed with a half-open makeup bag beside me. “And because my sister convinced me that tulle is ‘timeless.’”
From the hallway, Destiny calls back without missing a beat. “You’re welcome.”
Liam barrels into the room a second later, wearing dinosaur pajamas and one sock, clutching a plastic ring box he keeps trying to open with his teeth.
“Careful,” I say, reaching for him. “That’s important.”
He giggles and tugs it away at the last second, like we’re playing the world’s most high-stakes game of keep-away.
“That’s my job tomorrow,” Hazel tells him, finally setting the steamer upright. “You’re the ring bearer, remember? You’re supposed to look cute and not eat the props.”
“Cute,” Liam echoes proudly. “No eat.”
“Honestly, that’s more self-awareness than some adults,” Destiny says, appearing in the doorway with a garment bag over her arm. “Iris says if you mess with her hair tomorrow, she’s calling off the whole thing.”
I snort. “That sounds accurate.”
The room smells like fabric spray and lotion.
My dress hangs from the closet door, half-steamed, half intimidating.
There are shoes lined up along the wall, emergency bobby pins on the nightstand, and a small pile of snacks Hazel labeled “bride fuel” sitting on my dresser.
It looks like a bridal Pinterest board exploded in here, but it’s ours—messy, real, slightly crooked.
Liam climbs onto the bed and plops down in my lap, the ring box pressing into my ribs.
“You tired, baby?” I ask.
He shakes his head so hard his curls bounce. “No.”
His eyes, of course, are already drooping.
Hazel stands and stretches, pressing a hand to her lower back. “Okay. Tulle: temporarily defeated. Dress: ninety percent de-wrinkled. Bride: still looks like she hasn’t slept in three days.”
I rub under my eyes with the back of my hand. “That’s because she hasn’t.”
“Normal,” Destiny says. She hangs her bridesmaid dress on the hook next to mine and steps back to look at them both. “It’s the night before your wedding. You’re supposed to be overthinking everything.”
“I’m not overthinking,” I lie.
Hazel raises a brow. “You’re chewing the inside of your cheek so hard I can hear it from here.”
I stop immediately. “Traitor.”
She grins and sits beside me on the bed, careful not to jostle Liam too much. He leans into her like she’s a pillow.
“Tell us what’s going on in the brain today,” she says. “And don’t say ‘nothing.’ You’re marrying your college boyfriend slash baby daddy tomorrow. The brain is not quiet.”
“It’s not just my college boyfriend anymore,” I say. “It’s… everything. Reid the student. Reid the dad. Reid the guy who someday wants to move us for his career. Reid the person I still want, even when I’m mad at him.”
Destiny’s reflection meets mine in the mirror above the dresser. “And you’re Amelia the mom, Amelia the Nexus woman, Amelia the one who keeps five calendars in her head at all times.”
“Three,” I correct automatically.
She gives me a look.
“Okay, sometimes five,” I admit.
Liam yawns, a big open-mouthed thing that ends with him dropping his head against my chest.
“See?” Hazel says softly. “Even your son thinks you should be horizontal.”
I stroke his back through his pajamas, tracing the little cartoon dinosaurs. My throat tightens for a second.
“He’s going to remember this,” I say quietly. “Not the details, but… something. That we did this. That we tried to build him a family.”
Hazel’s voice softens. “He already has a family. Tomorrow is you two signing more paperwork for it.”
Destiny crosses the room and nudges my knee with hers. “Hey. You don’t have to perform for us. If you’re freaking out, you can say you’re freaking out. Nobody’s going to snatch your bouquet away.”
I stare at the edge of my dress where it grazes the carpet, the little beaded details catching the light.
“I’m not freaking out,” I say slowly. “I’m just… aware.”
“Of what?” Hazel asks.
“That this doesn’t magically fix anything,” I say.
“We still have debt. We still have distance. Reid still has to finish school. I still have deadlines and meetings and a boss who is very supportive but also very attached to my brain being available. Tomorrow is beautiful, but Monday is still Monday.”
Hazel nods like that’s the answer she expected. “Good,” she says. “That means you’re going into this with your eyes open.”
Destiny folds her arms. “Do you love him?”
“Yes,” I say, without hesitation.
“Do you like him?” she presses.
“Most days,” I say. “Even on the days I’m mad, I still like him.”
She smirks. “Then you’re already ahead of half the couples I know.”
Liam makes a small noise and curls closer, finally losing the fight against sleep. I shift him carefully so he’s lying across my lap, legs spilling onto the bed.
“Okay,” Hazel says, standing again. “Game plan: I’m taking the dress to hang where no one under three feet tall can touch it.
Destiny’s going to set an alarm for a reasonable bedtime so you don’t pass out in the middle of your own vows.
You are going to breathe, hydrate, and not open your work email. ”
“I wasn’t going to open it,” I protest.
They both stare.
“Okay, I was thinking about opening it,” I admit. “But I wasn’t going to respond.”
“That’s like saying you’re just going to sniff the cookies,” Hazel says. “No. Laptop stays closed. If Nexus falls apart for forty-eight hours, that’s on them.”
I glance at the nightstand where my phone sits, dark screen reflecting the room. “I already set my out-of-office. Eric practically shoved me out the door.”
“Good,” Destiny says. “One less thing for you to try to control.”
She leans down and kisses the top of Liam’s head. “I’ll take him to Mom’s room in a bit. Let him crash here with you for a minute.”
They move around the room, straightening things that don’t need straightening, talking about hair appointments and when the florist is dropping off the bouquets.
The noise is comforting, a low hum of people who know me and love me even when I’m a little frayed.
At some point, Iris pokes her head into the doorway with her bonnet already tied and an eye mask pushed up on her forehead.
“If anyone wakes me up before my alarm tomorrow,” she says, “I’m moving to another family.”
“Noted,” I say.
She spots the dress, softens for half a second, then points at me. “You better actually sleep. I’m not editing your wedding photos to erase under-eye bags.”
“I thought love was unconditional,” I say.
“Not when high-definition cameras are involved,” she replies, then disappears again.
Hazel laughs as the door swings shut. “Your family is chaos.”
“They’re ours,” I say.
The word hits me as soon as it leaves my mouth. Ours. Not just mine. Not just Reid’s. This web of people who have adjusted and stretched around Liam and me, and now around the fact that tomorrow there’ll be a ring on my finger and a whole new column on the family tree.
Hazel slips her shoes back on. “I’m going to go help Mom with something in the kitchen before she tries to do it all herself. You good if we steal Destiny for a bit?”
I nod. “Yeah. I’m just going to sit here with this dinosaur furnace on my legs.”
Destiny squeezes my shoulder on her way out. “You don’t have to be brave tonight,” she says quietly. “You just have to be honest with yourself.”
When the door closes behind them, the room feels bigger and smaller at the same time.
The noise of the house fades to a muffled background soundtrack.
Liam’s breathing is slow and even, his weight warm and familiar.
I lean back against the headboard and exhale, finally alone with my own thoughts. Tomorrow, I marry Reid Carter.
Tomorrow, I walk down an aisle in a dress that still doesn’t feel real and say words I mean with everything in me. Tomorrow, I step into something I can’t fully see yet. The thought makes my chest tighten and loosen all at once.
I look around my room—the same posters, the same bookshelf, the same chipped dresser I’ve had since high school.
There’s a bag in the corner with my wedding shoes and a change of clothes.
My laptop case sits half-hidden under my chair.
Liam’s favorite blanket is shoved between my pillows because he insisted I “share.”
This is my life. My present. A mix of old and new, responsibility and possibility, stability and risk. And tomorrow, I’m tying it to someone else’s for real. Liam shifts again, burrowing closer. I run my fingers through his curls and force myself to breathe slow. I don’t have all the answers.
I don’t know exactly how we’re going to juggle Reid’s career plans and my job and Liam’s needs and the fact that we’re already tired before adding marriage on top.
I don’t know where we’ll live in five years, or what sacrifices we’ll regret, or if we’ll ever stop having the same fight about time and attention.
But I know two things: I love this little boy asleep on my lap, and I love the man who helped bring him into the world and stayed to fight for us. The rest… we’ll have to learn as we go. Hazel’s words echo in my head. Choose it with your eyes open, not just your heart.
I look down at Liam, then at the dress hanging against the closet door. My heart is loud. My eyes are open. And even with the nerves clawing at the edges of my thoughts, I know I’m still walking toward tomorrow.
Mom finds me once Hazel slips out to take a call. The house is quieter now, the kind of quiet that makes every thought sound louder. She knocks once on the doorframe, then steps inside, wiping her hands on a dish towel like she needs something to do with them.
“Can I sit?” she asks.