Chapter 15
Harper
"Spring or fall?" I ask, spreading wedding magazines across our kitchen table like I'm planning a military campaign.
"Tomorrow?" Nate counters, not even looking up from where he's fixing Duke's collar.
"Tomorrow. Right. Because I can definitely plan a wedding in—" I check my watch, "—eighteen hours."
"Vegas is only a flight away."
"Nate Wilder, if you deprive June of making our wedding cake, she will literally murder you. With a spatula. I've seen her weapon collection."
He finally looks up, grinning. "So not tomorrow?"
"Not unless you want death by baking implements." I flip through a magazine, overwhelmed by the sheer volume of decisions. "Seriously though. When?"
"How about next week?"
"Nate."
"Next month?"
"Be realistic."
He moves behind my chair, arms wrapping around me as he looks over my shoulder at the magazines. "I've waited years, Harps. Forgive me for being impatient."
My heart does that stupid flutter thing it's been doing since he proposed two days ago. "Three months?"
"Three months?" He considers this, chin resting on my head. "That's... June?"
"June wedding. How cliché is that?"
"June would appreciate the symmetry."
I snort. "She's already designing cakes. I saw her notebook yesterday—she's on version twelve."
"Twelve cake designs already?"
"She's motivated. Maya said she's been waiting for this since college."
My phone buzzes with a text from June:
Picked a date yet?
"Speaking of June..." I show Nate the text.
"How does she know we're discussing this right now?"
"Small town telepathy." Another text appears:
Three months is perfect. June wedding. Already checking vendor availability.
"She's terrifying," Nate observes.
"She's efficient."
A third text:
Stop canoodling and pick a date. The 15th is perfect.
We both stare at my phone.
"Is she psychic or does she have us bugged?" Nate asks.
"June!" I call out, knowing she can't hear me from her bakery. "Get out of our heads!"
The phone rings immediately. June's voice fills the kitchen on speaker: "Three months is completely doable.
Mrs. Henderson has already mobilized the decoration committee—yes, that's a thing now.
Maya's handling music. Lucas is threatening to DJ, but we'll talk him out of it.
Your only job is to show up and say 'I do. '"
"June—"
"Also, dress shopping this Saturday. No arguments. Maya's got news she wants to share in person, and she's already emotional about it."
"What news?" I ask, but June's already moving on.
"June, can we even plan a wedding that fast?"
"Honey, this is Willowbridge. We're small-town miracle workers. Mrs. Morrison planned her daughter's entire wedding in six weeks, and that included a live band from the city."
Nate takes my phone. "June, the willow tree—"
"At your farm, obviously. Where you carved your initials. I'm not an idiot, Nate."
"How did you—"
"Everyone knows about those initials. You weren't subtle in college."
She hangs up. We sit in the sudden silence, surrounded by magazines we apparently don't need.
"So," Nate says slowly, "June 15th? At our place?"
"By our willow tree," I confirm, then laugh. "We just got June'd."
"Is that a verb now?"
"It is when your best friend plans your entire wedding in a two-minute phone call."
He spins my ring on my finger, the sapphire catching the light. "You okay with this? The timeline?"
"Three months to become Harper Wilder? Yeah, I'm okay with that."
His grin could power the entire town. "Say it again."
"Harper Wilder."
"Again."
"You're ridiculous."
"Ridiculously in love with my fiancée who's going to be my wife in three months."
***
Saturday morning in the city, and I'm standing in my underwear in the world's fanciest bridal boutique while June and Maya debate whether I need a veil.
"Veils are traditional," Maya says, holding up something that looks like it could cover half of Texas.
"Harper's not traditional," June counters, waving a simple hair comb with pearl details. "She needs something that won't get caught in the willow branches."
"Can we discuss this when I'm wearing actual clothes?" I ask, clutching a silk robe around me.
The consultant—a terrifyingly efficient woman named Patricia—appears with an armload of white fabric. "Let's start with this A-line. Classic, simple."
I step into the dress, and it's... fine. Nice. Perfectly adequate.
"Next," June says immediately.
"You look beautiful!" Maya's eyes are already watery, which seems excessive for dress number one.
"Maya, are you okay?" I ask as Patricia helps me into dress number two—a mermaid style that makes me look like I'm cosplaying a sexy fish.
"I'm fine! You just look so—" She starts actually crying. "So grown up and beautiful and—"
"Maya." June hands her tissues. "What's going on?"
"Nothing! Everything's perfect!" She's full-on sobbing now. "Harper's getting married, you're here, we're all together, and—"
"Seriously, what—"
"I'm pregnant!" The words burst out of her like a dam breaking. "Ten weeks. I was going to tell you at lunch but you're in a wedding dress and I'm so hormonal I cried at a toilet paper commercial yesterday!"
June screams. I nearly fall off the platform trying to hug Maya while Patricia protests about the dress.
"Pregnant!" June's bouncing. "A baby! When? How?"
"June knows how babies are made, right?" I ask Maya, who's laugh-crying into my shoulder.
"Due in November. We just found out for sure last week."
"This is perfect," June says. "A June wedding, a October baby—"
"Wait." I pull back to look at Maya. "You'll be super pregnant at my wedding."
"Only five and a half months. I'll waddle down the aisle beautifully."
Patricia clears her throat. "Perhaps we should continue? You have seven more dresses to try."
But when I step into dress number three, we all go quiet. It’s beautiful—soft ivory with delicate lace sleeves, a flowing skirt that moves like water, and a low back that's elegant without being scandalous. It's not trying too hard. It’s just... not quite right.
June tilts her head. “It’s gorgeous, but... I don’t know. Does it feel like you?”
Maya dabs at her eyes, trying to smile. “You look beautiful, Harper. But do you feel like a bride?”
I stare at my reflection. I look the part. I look like someone who should be walking down an aisle. But wearing the dress feels a little like playing dress-up, like I’m still waiting for something that hasn’t happened yet.
I shake my head slowly. “It’s close. But it’s not it.”
Patricia nods professionally. “We have more options. Sometimes it just takes a little longer to find the perfect one.”
June catches the bouquet when the consultant tosses a sample at us for photos, and we all laugh at the irony—the perpetually single one catching flowers at a dress fitting.
"Guess that makes you next," I say.
Maya laughs. "Pretty sure Lucas and I should go next, but—" she gestures at June with the bouquet "—the universe has spoken."
"I'd have to date first," June points out.
"Details," Maya says, grinning. "Minor details."
As we leave, empty-handed, Maya threads her arm through mine. "Our kids will grow up together. How perfect is that?"
"Pretty perfect," I agree, then stop. "Wait. Kids, plural?"
Maya grins. "Well, you and Nate want four, right?"
"Eventually!"
"Better get started then. I want our kids to be friends."
June laughs. "From dress shopping to family planning. This escalated quickly."
But she's right. Everything's moving fast now—wedding in three months, Maya's baby in seven, our whole lives spinning forward into the future we've all been waiting for.
***
My phone rings soon after I get home, still glowing from Maya's amazing news. Adam's name on the screen makes my stomach flip—we've texted, but haven't actually talked in a very long time.
"Adam?"
"Hey, Harper." His voice sounds older. Tired.
"Adam! I was going to call you—"
"Maya beat you to it. Sent about fifty photos. You were covered in dirt?"
"Nate proposed right in the middle of the groundbreaking ceremony. In front of everyone. We both ended up kneeling in the dirt." I settle onto my couch, needing to be comfortable for this conversation. "How’s Emma?"
"Excited about being a flower girl. She’s already practicing throwing petals. My apartment looks like a plant exploded."
I laugh, picturing my six-year-old niece creating floral chaos. "Tell her she’s hired."
"About that..." Adam pauses, and I hear him take a breath. "The divorce is final next month. Custody’s all settled—I have Emma full time. Sarah didn’t fight it."
"Adam, I’m sorry."
"Don’t be. It’s been over for years. We just made it official." Another pause. "Harper, I know I haven’t been around. Haven’t been the brother you deserve—"
"You had your own life."
"I had excuses. But I should’ve been there. After Mom and Dad, I should’ve played a bigger role."
The words sit heavy between us. He’s right—he should have. But I understand why he didn’t. Willowbridge held too many memories, too much weight. And he was grieving his own way.
"You’re coming to the wedding," I say. Not a question.
"Wouldn’t miss it. Though... Nate. You’re sure?"
"Never been more sure of anything."
"He hurt you before. Left you." Adam’s voice goes protective older brother, a role he hasn’t played in years. "I remember that call after graduation. You were devastated."
"We were young. We both made mistakes."
"And now?"
"Now we know better. We know what we want." I twist my engagement ring, watching the sapphire catch the light. "He makes me happy, Adam. Really, truly happy."
"Good. Because if he hurts you again, veterinarian or not, I’ll break his face."
"Adam!"
"I’m serious. I may have been a shitty brother, but I can start making up for it by threatening your fiancé with bodily harm."
"Very touching. Really feeling the love."
He laughs, and it sounds like the Adam I remember from childhood—before life got complicated. "Harper, I need to ask you something."
"What?"
"Would you... would it be okay if I walked you down the aisle? I know I haven’t earned it, but—"