Chapter 21 #2
"But you're still my choice. My only choice.
Every day, I choose the man who left but came back.
Who loved me enough to let me go and loved me enough to fight for me when it mattered.
You're not my perfect love story, Nate. You're my real one.
Messy and complicated and absolutely worth every broken moment that brought us here. "
Someone sobs audibly—definitely Maya—but I keep going.
"I promise to choose you every day, especially the hard days.
To trust you with my dreams and my fears.
To build our education center and our family and our future together.
To never run when things get difficult. To love you not in spite of our history but because of it.
Because we've already survived the worst and chosen each other anyway. "
Nate releases one of my hands to wipe his face, laughing through his tears. "How am I supposed to follow that?"
"You'll figure it out," Lucas says, which gets a laugh from our small gathering.
Nate takes a breath, then locks eyes with me. "Harper Lane. Harps. You're my home. You always have been. Even during those six years apart, every road I took was just trying to lead me back to you."
Now I'm the one who needs tissues, but I don't dare let go of his hands.
"I've loved you badly. I've loved you wrong. I've loved you from a distance and up close and through silence and through chaos. But I've never, not for one moment, stopped loving you. You're in every cell of my body, every thought in my head, every beat of my heart."
He pauses, voice breaking completely.
"I promise to trust you with your independence and support your ambitions.
To be your partner, not your protector. To communicate instead of decide.
To choose us, every day, especially when it's easier to choose fear.
To build the life we dreamed about at twenty-two, but with the wisdom we've earned at thirty. "
His thumb brushes over my knuckles, our old gesture.
"You're not my second chance, Harper. You're my only chance. My first choice, my last choice, my every choice in between. And I promise to spend the rest of my life proving that you made the right choice too, even when it was hard. Especially because it was hard."
We're both crying so hard the officiant has to wait a moment before asking for the rings. Emma steps forward with the pillow, very seriously, and I notice she's crying too.
Actually, looking around, there's not a dry eye in sight. Even the officiant is looking suspiciously misty.
"Well," he says, clearing his throat. "After vows like that, the rest seems almost redundant, but we do have a few more formalities."
"Do you, Harper Lane, take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband?" the officiant asks, though we're all still recovering from the vows.
"I do." The words come out fierce, certain, like I've been waiting my whole life to say them. Which I have.
"And do you, Nathaniel Wilder, take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife?"
"I do." His voice cracks on the words, fresh tears starting.
"Then by the power vested in me by the state, I now pronounce you—"
But Nate's already pulling me in, his hands cupping my face, and his lips meet mine before the officiant can finish. It's not the polite, appropriate wedding kiss we probably should have. It's desperate and relieved and victorious all at once—years of waiting poured into this moment.
The small crowd erupts. Emma throws her remaining petals straight up in the air with a shriek of joy. Duke barks his approval, probably breaking his stay command. Maya's still sobbing. Even Lucas is wiping his eyes.
"—husband and wife," the officiant finishes with a laugh. "Though apparently they figured that part out themselves."
Nate pulls back just enough to rest his forehead against mine. "We did it."
"We actually did it."
"Mr. and Mrs. Wilder," he says, testing it out.
"Excuse me—Dr. Wilder," I correct, tapping his chest.
He laughs. "Right. Dr. Wilder and his hyphenated wife."
"Mrs. Lane-Wilder has a nice ring to it," I say.
He's kissing me again when Lucas shouts, "Get a room!"
"We have one," Nate shoots back. "It's called our house."
Adam approaches with Emma, who immediately attacks us with hugs. "Aunt Harper, you're married! Uncle Nate, can I call you Uncle Nate?"
"You can call me whatever you want, Emma. We're family now."
That sets me off crying again, and June appears with tissues. "Save some tears for the reception," she advises. "I made a cake that's going to emotionally destroy you."
"Too late," Maya says, her own face a mess of happy tears. "We're all already destroyed."
The string quartet starts playing something triumphant as we walk back down the aisle as husband and wife. Our small gathering of loved ones showers us with wildflower petals that June must have prepared. Duke runs alongside us, bow tie askew but tail wagging furiously.
As we reach the end of the aisle, Nate swoops me up into his arms, spinning me around while I laugh and hold onto my bouquet.
"Better late than never," he says when he sets me down.
"Perfect timing," I correct.
Because it is. Every mistake, every heartbreak, every moment of doubt led us here. We're not the kids who fell in love in college anymore. We're the people who chose to love each other through the mess, through the years, through everything that tried to break us.
"Ready for the party?" he asks.
"Ready for the life," I answer.
And we walk toward the barn, toward our reception, toward our future—finally, officially, forever us.
The barn glows with string lights and mason jar candles, transforming it into something magical. Our first dance starts—"Thinking Out Loud"—and Nate pulls me close, whispering the words against my hair rather than singing them properly.
"People are watching," I murmur into his shoulder.
"Let them. I've waited years for this dance."
We sway together, the rest of the world fading until it's just us, the music, and this moment we almost lost so many times.
When the song ends and the floor opens to everyone, I grab June's hand. "Time for the bouquet!"
"Harper, no—" she protests, but I'm already dragging her to the front of the gathered women.
I turn my back, count to three, and toss. When I spin around, June's standing there holding my wildflower bouquet, looking stunned. Her cheeks are flushed, and she's definitely avoiding looking at something—or someone.
That's when I notice Adam standing near the bar, watching her with an expression I've never seen on my brother's face before. Soft. Interested. Maybe a little amazed.
"Your brother's staring," Nate whispers in my ear.
"I noticed."
Lucas appears at Nate's shoulder for the garter toss, but his eyes are tracking between June and Adam. "Am I seeing what I think I'm seeing?"
"If you're seeing my brother looking at June like she hung the moon, then yes," I whisper back.
The garter toss happens—Lucas catches it because of course he does—but I'm watching June and Adam do this elaborate dance of not looking at each other while being hyperaware of each other's location.
Maya comes over, following our gaze. "Oh my God. June and Adam?"
"Shh!" I hiss, but I'm grinning.
Nate spins me back onto the floor. "Matchmaking at your own wedding?"
"Just observing. Besides, June caught the bouquet. It's fate."
"Like us?"
"No," I say, pulling him closer as we dance under the stars spilling through the barn's open doors. "We're better than fate. We're choice."
"No regrets?" he asks, echoing our old question.
"Only that it took us so long to get here."
"Worth the wait?"
"Worth everything."
Later, we leave in Nate's decorated truck, cans rattling and "FINALLY!" written in shoe polish on the back window—definitely Lucas's touch.
Some people get their love story right the first time. Some of us take the long way around.