35. Epilogue
Epilogue
Beck
One Year Later
“I feel strange being at a wedding without my headset on,” Dallas whispers to me.
“Kaia and Mary have got this,” I tell her, my gaze taking in my beautiful bride in her sleeveless white dress with a sweetheart neckline and hi-lo hem.
Yeah. I know how to describe my bride’s dress using correct descriptors. I’ve had a front-row seat to over forty weddings in the past year, and I’ve learned a ton about the industry.
Dallas is my bride . In a few moments, she’ll be my wife.
We’re standing at the back door of Willow Wood, peering through the glass, waiting for the signal from Mary and Kaia that it’s time to walk down the aisle. In typical, independent Dallas fashion, she decided she wanted to do things her way, so there’s very little that’s traditional about our wedding.
For starters, we’ll be walking down the aisle together, just the two of us. Our parents were happy with the plan to already be sitting in the front row when our procession starts. And Dallas’s dad said he’d never really liked the idea of “giving away” his daughter, since she’s not a piece of property to be passed over to me.
I couldn’t agree more. I’m proud of Dallas for creating the wedding she wants. And honestly, I don’t care as much about the details of today as I do about the fact that we’re here, ready to commit our lives to each other.
Dallas sucks in a breath. “I see some friends from Duluth.” Her gaze scans the rows of white folding chairs, nearly full of guests. All of our families are here, as well as my friends Perry, Coop, King, and Duke and their significant others. Rosie, Leo, and the rest of their family were some of the first to arrive. “And there are Portia and Elliott,” she adds.
My brother and his wife of nearly a year flew in from New Jersey a few days ago to help us get everything set up. They’re as ridiculously happy as ever. I’m happy for them. Plus, they’re saying they hope to move to Willow Cove when Portia graduates. With any luck, I’ll get my best manager back.
The music coming through the speakers starts to shift. Here we go.
“You ready to get married?” I ask Dallas, emotion causing my throat to dry. But it’s all the good emotions: joy, relief that today’s finally the day, peace.
Love. More love than I ever knew I could be capable of feeling.
Her brows knit together as she fluffs up her hair at the top of her head. That’s another traditional thing she did away with. She’s not wearing a veil, but instead chose a cluster of white flowers at the base of her neck under her low, wispy bun. And now she’s fussing over it, and I can tell she’s nervous.
“You look beautiful,” I insist.
“What about my lipstick?”
“So perfect that I can’t wait to make it very imperfect.”
Then she smiles and I wonder if my heart’s going to burst.
“That’s it.” My expression matches hers. “The smile I love.” I press a small kiss to her forehead.
“Beck, I love you.” Her eyes begin to pool, and she takes in a steadying breath. “I can’t wait to rescind the whole ‘always a wedding planner, never a bride’ thing.”
“I love you, Dallas. I never did like that saying about you never becoming a bride.” I chuckle, taking her in my arms, careful not to crush her bouquet of peach and cream roses, lavender micro poms, and white Sweet Williams.
See? I really am getting an education on wedding stuff.
“Let’s see the shoes,” I ask.
She gives a wicked grin and moves her flowy skirt aside to reveal her white, bedazzled flip-flops. “I may ditch them later and just go barefoot.”
We both laugh and I can’t stop myself from kissing her cheek, right next to those perfect lips. “I love your evolving stance on shoes.” I groan. “Later. I can’t stop thinking about later,” I whisper in her ear.
“Neither can I,” she whispers back, sending waves of goosebumps across my skin.
“You know I have a surprise for you, right?” I ask her.
She has to know. I cordoned off the honeymoon suite upstairs a few weeks ago with big signs that said she wasn’t allowed to enter. My crew and I have been finishing up the remodel so we can spend our first night as a married couple up there. Since it’s the start of wedding season for Dallas, and since Integrity Construction has been so busy working on the teen’s wing of the YMCA, we’re delaying our honeymoon a couple of months.
“The suite’s going to be perfect, Beck.”
“Hey! Did you peek?”
“No, I did not.” she says, moving her head back so she can fix me with a stare. “I toyed with the idea, but then I figured you probably installed security cameras and booby traps to make sure I didn’t.”
I chuckle low in my chest. “I totally should have done that.”
Someone nearby clears their throat. We startle apart to see that Mary has opened the door and her arms are now folded across her chest. “Will you two quit flirting and make your way down the aisle?” She softens and can’t hold back a smile. “Please?”
She’s really taken to moonlighting as Dallas’s assistant. Between the two of them, they just about have Kaia convinced to turn this one-time gig of planning our wedding in Willow Cove into a more permanent situation. With the way Martha Dobbs’s business has grown, there’s become a need for a second wedding planner.
“We’re coming!” Dallas says, her voice sing-songy. “Have the caterers arrived?” she asks Mary. And by caterers, she means the lunch ladies from the school. We hired them to make a spread that’s both elegant and delicious. “And are we sure Prince Harry isn’t anywhere to be found?”
“King and Georgie told me he hired a neighbor to make sure Prince Harry stays put,” I tell her.
“And Dallas? No offense, but you’re not the wedding planner today, so let us do our job, okay?” Mary’s no-nonsense grin stills as she places her hand over her earpiece. “Kaia says she seconds that,” she adds.
Laughter escapes Dallas’s lips. “Fine. I’ll try not to worry about all the things.”
I take her hand and place it on my arm. “This is about you and me. I love you. I’m so happy to marry you.”
She rewards me with a smile. “Me, too. I’ll love you forever.”
And then we step through the open door onto the beach and into the first moment of the rest of our lives.