Epilogue #2
I pause with my wine halfway to my mouth. The air between us shifts. I realize this kind of conversation would have to be a part of the evening too.
Carter starts, almost a whisper. “We were at the barracks when he got the call about his father’s death. I was right there when he found out. They gave him the day off and he just shut down. Barely ate or spoke. I tried to be there for him, but he was locked up tight.”
He gives me a small, tight smile. “That night though, when the lights were off, George showed a bit of…vulnerability. Grief does that to people. It strips everything back. For a second, he was just a man trying to shut his brain off. He can’t really put it into words, but I was there, and I would’ve taken anything he gave me. ”
My stomach twists violently and bile rises sharp in my throat. I keep my face completely still even as nausea hits me hard. My pulse hammers loud in my ears. I really don’t know if I want to hear this on my fucking wedding night.
“But then his phone went off with your name on it,” he says, tips his glass then sets it down.
I remember making this call right after my shift, when I heard the sad news.
“I watched his whole face change before he even answered,” Carter shares. “It wasn’t like he decided anything. But everything he’d been carrying all day just…let go the moment it was you.”
I look at him, finally understanding what he’s trying to tell me. My chest twists and loosens up all at once, relief hitting hard enough to leave a bitter taste behind it.
“After that, I couldn’t unsee it. The way he kept up with you without meaning to.
How he breathed easier around you or how he smiled more.
He probably didn’t know this about himself at that time.
He noticed things, showed curiosity, but he never really let it go anywhere.
Don’t think he’s ever acted on that side of himself with anyone else. ”
“Carter—”
“What I’m trying to say here is that…there was never anything between us, Lance. Nothing happened, even that night. What I felt stayed mine.”
His mouth lifts, not quite a smile. It looks more like he’s finally putting down something he was never meant to carry this long. “He didn’t have anything to give me. You already have all of it. I’m genuinely happy for him that you do.”
I let out a slow breath. The truth settles over me strangely, bringing both relief and guilt. Because underneath all of it is this pain for Carter, and he never once made it anyone else’s problem.
“That’s a lot to hold on your own,” I sincerely say. I don’t want to draw this out any longer than necessary for him. I respect his feelings enough to know this isn’t easy. “Thanks for trusting me with it.”
He nods once, like that’s all he needed. We fall into an easy silence, watching the dance floor, the band pushing the night forward.
George finds me by the courtyard doors sometime later. He doesn’t say anything at first. He just hooks his fingers lightly around my wrist and tips his head toward the outside.
I go with him.
The music drops behind us as we step into the cool night air, the stone walls holding the sound at a distance.
He pulls me in without hesitation, and I fold into him just as easily, forehead brushing his shoulder. His arms settle around me the way they always do.
“You disappeared on me,” he says, voice close to my ear.
“You got passed around your family like a community project,” I tease.
He exhales softly against my temple. His hand slides along my back, thumb pressing once like he’s checking I’m actually here.
“I’ve got a wedding gift for you,” he murmurs after a moment.
I pull back enough to look at him, already grinning. “You already married me. That’s pretty high-effort.”
George looks a little smug. “It’s on your phone. There’s a copy in my file storage we can watch on the big screen in the honeymoon suite tonight.”
My mind blanks for a second.
“What are we watching?”
“Carter only deleted the main file. All security footage has a backup. I found it, made a copy, and put it on your phone,” he smiles, pleased with himself.
My jaw drops.
“You’re telling me,” I say slowly, delight creeping into my voice, “that our official wedding-night entertainment is surveillance footage of the first time you fucked me on your workbench?”
George winces at my choice of words. “It sounds less romantic when you say it like that.”
I make a strangled noise somewhere between laughter and cardiac arrest.
“Are you fucking kidding me? This is the most romantic thing anyone’s ever done for me. Well, second to you marrying me and slightly above relocating your entire emotionally repressed mountain man self to Seattle just to be near me.”
“You’re seriously disturbed.”
“You married me anyway.”
“That’s on me.”
I’m grinning so hard my face hurts.
I hook my arms around his shoulders, still riding the high of this completely deranged revelation. “God, I hope Adrian still has the recording from Holloway’s place too. I want to see our first kiss. That striptease was basically foreplay. We deserve the full cinematic universe.”
George goes still, then he shakes his head once, almost fond.
“That wasn’t our first kiss.”
I blink at him. “What?”
“It was at Azure Tides,” he says. “The night you were too drunk to remember anything.”
It takes me a second to process that. Suddenly, every emotion in my body detonates at once.
“Trevor’s wedding night?” I whisper.
He nods once.
I don’t even know what I’m feeling first. Shock. Hurt. Grief. Weird, manic happiness. I want to punch him in the face and then immediately sit on it.
“You kissed me,” I say, scandalized. “And I don’t remember it?”
“Technically, you kissed me.”
“I did what?”
“You were drunk as hell, Lance,” he says affectionately, pulling me closer as he feels I’m starting to break down. I make a deeply wounded noise and pull back.
George’s entire expression softens the second he sees my face fall.
“Hey,” he says gently, “We just got a little handsy, that’s all.”
I stare at him, my lips already wobbling, fully seconds away from throwing the world’s most emotional tantrum.
“George, we woke up naked. ‘Little handsy’ feels aggressively misleading here. Try harder.”
One corner of his mouth lifts slightly. “Alright. Maybe moderately handsy.”
I look away for a second, throat suddenly tight in the stupidest way imaginable.
“You remember it?”
George’s eyes stay on mine this time. “Yeah,” he says softly. “All of it.”
That one almost takes me out at the knees. I drag a hand down my face and let out one broken little laugh that sounds hurt and wrecked.
“Jesus Christ,” I mutter. “Was I at least decent about it?”
His brows pull together immediately. “What?”
“George,” I look back at him helplessly now. “I know what I’m like drunk sometimes. Was I annoying? Did I take care of you properly? Was I even—”
“Lance.”
His voice stops me. He stoops low enough so his forehead can touch mine.
“You were you,” he says simply. “And I wouldn’t want it any other way.”
The look on his face alone is enough to undo me completely.
All this time, part of me might’ve been aware that there was some version of me people had to put up with, clean up after, and move on from. But George is standing there looking at me like every version is worth remembering.
He exhales softly, almost amused by how bothered I look, and presses a kiss to my forehead.
“But I don’t remember any of it,” I say, my voice embarrassingly small now. “I missed our first kiss.”
With that, he gently tilts my chin up with his fingers, the whole world narrowing down to just this moment.
“I’ll remember that kiss enough for both of us,” he says, leaning in.
This kiss is full of so much care—it’s him giving it back to me piece by piece, making sure this time I get to keep it.
When he pulls away, he keeps his forehead against mine.
“And I’m gonna kiss you like it’s the first time every single time,” he says, looking at me with this terrifying amount of sincerity, “For the rest of our lives.”
I laugh once, completely overwhelmed, and bury my face against his shoulder.
Standing there being held by the man who somehow loved me long before either of us knew what to call it, I realize something with absolute clarity.
We didn’t miss our beginning.
We’ve just finally caught up to it.