Epilogue #2
Drew reached up and wiped one away with his thumb.
Then his grin came back, crooked and wet and gorgeous.
“Also, I promise not to invite our parents to the real reception unless there is security, alcohol, and at least three exits.”
The chapel erupted.
Even Stella laughed.
Vampire Elvis nodded solemnly. “Wise man.”
I pointed at Drew. “My turn.”
He grinned. “Destroy me.”
I turned toward him, heart pounding so hard I could barely breathe.
“I wanted the wrong thing before you,” I said.
Drew’s face softened.
“I wanted a crown. A story. Proof. I wanted to be chosen because I thought being chosen meant I was safe.” I looked down at our hands, at the ring moving from his right hand soon to his left.
“Then you showed up loud, annoying, barefoot, smelling like stolen baby-powder deodorant, and somehow you became the safest thing I’d ever known. ”
Jace whispered loudly, “Baby powder?”
Dante hissed, “Shut up.”
I kept my eyes on Drew.
“I promise to stop pretending I’m fine when I’m not.”
His mouth curved.
“I promise to stop messing with the alphabetical order of your drugstore products.”
“Thank you,” he murmured.
“And to respect the sacred separation of towels, darks, lights, and workout gear.”
“Vows are serious, Texas.”
“I promise to always steal your fries but never your peace.”
His face changed at that.
“I promise to go to the Great British Baking Show tent with you for our honeymoon if we ever become famous enough to be invited.”
Drew blinked. “Our honeymoon is a baking show?”
“It could be.”
“I accept.”
“I promise to never let my mother, your father, or anyone else turn us into a transaction again.”
The humor faded.
The chapel went quiet.
“I promise that when I say I choose you, I mean Drew. Not Montgomery. Not football. Not money. Not what you can do for me. Just you.” My voice cracked. “The man who made a cold kitchen warm. The man who waited until I was brave enough to give him everything.”
Drew’s jaw flexed.
His eyes were wet now.
Really wet.
Beautiful.
“I chose you last,” I whispered. “Not after everyone else. Not because you were the backup plan. Last as in final. Done. No one after you.”
For once, Drew Travers had nothing to say.
Vampire Elvis sniffed.
“Damn,” he said. “That got me.”
Jace yelled, “Same, king.”
Drew laughed through whatever was happening to his face and pulled me into him.
“Can I kiss her now?”
“Not yet,” Vampire Elvis said. “Rings first, Romeo.”
Drew looked personally victimized.
I took his ring from his right ring finger slid it off.
The Colorado ring.
No midnight.
The one I’d given him when I finally stopped running.
He had worn it every day.
For a second, we both stared at the pale line it left behind.
Then I moved it to his left hand.
His breath caught.
Mine too.
Drew took my ring from his suit pocket, slid it onto my finger slowly, his thumb brushing over it afterward like he wanted to make sure the moment stayed real.
Vampire Elvis lifted both hands.
“By the questionable but legally valid power vested in me by the great state of Nevada, the King, and this haunted establishment, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride.”
Drew did not need to be told twice.
He grabbed my face with both hands and kissed me like the whole room disappeared.
Which it did.
For me, anyway.
The cheers came from far away. Jace whooping. Lana crying. Someone yelling, “Drew and Texas forever!” Vampire Elvis singing something off-key behind us.
Drew kissed me until I forgot the chapel, the cameras, the parents, the internet, the fake beginning, the midnight deadline, every single rule we had broken to get here.
When he pulled back, his forehead rested against mine.
“Hi, wife.”
My heart opened all the way.
“Hi, husband.”
His grin turned filthy. “We should leave immediately.”
I laughed. “Reception first.”
“We have a reception?”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
I lifted my bouquet. “Taco place next door.”
Drew stared at me.
Then he pressed a hand to his heart.
“I have never loved you more.”
The post went up thirty-two minutes later.
From Jace.
Of course.
A carousel of photos:
Drew and me under the vampire arch.
Drew wiping my tears.
Me laughing during the vows.
The ring moving from his right hand to his left.
Vampire Elvis behind us with both hands raised like he had summoned us from the underworld.
Caption:
DREW + TEXAS GOT MARRIED BY VAMPIRE ELVIS AND I HAVE NEVER BEEN MORE PROUD TO BE AN AMERICAN. #NoMidnight #CallowayTravers #HauntedHotPeople
Campus exploded.
My phone nearly vibrated off the taco table.
Lana read comments out loud between bites.
“‘No way this is real.’ Real.”
“‘Is this NIL promo?’ Rude.”
“‘Drew Travers married the soccer girl???’ Soccer girl has a name.”
“‘Drew and Texas forever.’ I like that one.”
Dante, who had been quiet for nearly ten whole minutes, held up his phone. “Football group chat is losing its mind.”
Drew bit into a taco. “Good.”
Stella looked amused. “The gossip page just posted: Stanford’s fake dating scandal ends in Halloween elopement.”
Tristan smiled faintly. “Poetic.”
I pointed a chip at him. “You do not get to call my life poetic.”
“Fair.”
Jace leaned back in his chair, satisfied. “This is going to be campus lore.”
“My love life is not lore,” I said.
Drew slid an arm around the back of my chair. “Baby, we got married by Vampire Elvis on Halloween because our fake relationship had an expiration date. It’s lore.”
I opened my mouth.
Closed it.
“Fine.”
He kissed my temple.
My phone buzzed again.
Mom.
I stared at the screen.
Then turned it face down.
Drew saw.
His face softened. “You okay?”
I looked at him.
At my husband.
My ridiculous, beautiful, impossible husband, sitting in a taco restaurant in a black suit with his shirt open and my ring on his left hand.
“I’m perfect.”
“Impossible. That’s my job.”
I smiled and picked up my margarita.
“To bad decisions,” I said.
Drew lifted his glass.
“To the best one.”
Everyone cheered.
Somewhere outside, Vegas screamed and flashed and kept being Vegas. Somewhere back at Stanford, the internet lost its mind. Somewhere in Texas and Miami, our parents were probably preparing statements, lectures, lawyers, threats, or worse, matching family group chat opinions.
None of it touched us at that table with tacos and neon and our friends laughing too loud around us.
Drew leaned close, his mouth at my ear.
“You know what this means, Mrs. Calloway-Travers?”
“What?”
“No breakup at midnight.”
I turned my face toward his.
“No fake ending.”
“No clean break.”
“No refunds.”
He laughed, low and happy.
“Good.” He kissed my ring finger. “Because I’m keeping you.”
I touched the gold band on his left hand.
“You better.”
His eyes warmed.
Outside, the neon blinked. Inside, our friends shouted over one another, my phone buzzed again, and Drew’s hand stayed wrapped around mine like a promise he intended to keep.
And when midnight came, there was no countdown.
No deadline.
No ending.
Just my bracelet against his ring, his laugh against my mouth, and both of us walking into forever like it was the best trouble we’d ever found.