Epilogue Bitsy
The terrace was vibrant, filled with a warm, steady hum of voices that made the space feel private and protected.
It was that sweet spot of early spring—the biting edge of winter had finally surrendered to a soft, jasmine-scented breeze that felt like a fresh start.
Bitsy leaned back, letting the clink of silverware and the easy drift of conversation wash over her, a contented smile lingering on her lips as she took a slow sip of her iced sweet tea.
It was almost surreal how natural it all felt.
She watched Lennon across the table, head thrown back in a genuine, unburdened laugh while Silas sat beside her, his hand resting protectively on the back of her chair, his eyes fixed on her with a quiet, steady pride.
Beside her, Wyatt’s hand remained a constant, warm weight on her thigh—a silent, grounding pressure that kept her tethered to the moment, even amidst the rising tide of the evening’s excitement.
"I’m telling you, the florals have to be unapologetic," Vic declared, his voice cutting through the din with that trademark dramatic flair, gesturing wildly with a dinner roll. "If I see one more traditional holiday arrangement on Pinterest, I’m going to lose my mind. We are doing bold. We are doing opulence—a Christmas wedding that doesn't just look like a holiday, it is the holiday." Marcus, looking entirely at peace as he sipped his wine, leaned over and kissed Vic’s temple. "We’re doing whatever you want, darling. I’ve learned a long time ago—I just sign the checks and show up looking presentable. It’s significantly safer for everyone involved.
" Hudson laughed, shaking his head. "I don’t know how you do it, Marcus. I think if I had to deal with this level of intensity regarding Christmas tree heights, I’d have snapped weeks ago.
" "It’s not just about the height of the trees, Hudson," Vic sniffed, though he was grinning, clearly enjoying the theatricality of it all.
"It’s the sensory experience of the entire event.
Silas, back me up here. Tell him why the jewel tones and those deep, decadent velvet textures are a non-negotiable, artistic necessity for a proper December ceremony.
" Silas let out a low, gravelly chuckle, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he leaned back, looking completely comfortable admitting he was out of his depth.
He gave a nonchalant shrug. "Hell if I know, Vic.
I just know if you're the one planning it, the place is going to look expensive, and we're all going to have a damn good time.
I'm just happy to be invited." "I’ll take that as a ringing endorsement of my capabilities, Silas!
" Vic said with a bright, triumphant flourish of his hand. He rose to his feet, the scrape of his chair against the stone marking the shift in energy, and tapped his fork against his crystal glass with a sharp, commanding ring that drew every eye at the table toward him. Bitsy felt her pulse quicken, a flutter of anticipation in her stomach. She didn't know exactly what was coming, but the way Wyatt’s fingers tightened almost imperceptibly against her back made her feel like she was sitting on the edge of the best kind of secret. "I’ve been doing a lot of thinking about this night," Vic began, his dramatic veneer softening into something deeply, genuinely sincere. "And I’ve realized that while a wedding is technically about two people, it’s really held together by the people who stand behind them. We have this… this incredible, messy, beautiful thing going on here. And I couldn’t imagine walking into my forever—right at the peak of the most magical time of year—without you all in the front row.
" Lennon caught Bitsy’s eye, her expression glowing with a knowing, excited smile.
Vic signaled to the waiter, who appeared instantly with two elegant, heavy boxes wrapped in iridescent ribbons that caught the terrace lights like liquid silk.
With the grace of a stage performer, Vic made his way around the table, placing one in front of Lennon and the other in front of Bitsy.
"Oh my god," Lennon breathed, her hands trembling as she reached for the bow. She felt Wyatt’s focus on her, a steadying presence that made her feel brave enough to handle whatever was inside. She pulled the ribbon, the heavy wrapping paper slipping away to reveal a midnight-blue velvet box. With a deep breath, she flicked the latch open. Inside, resting against the dark fabric, was a delicate gold bracelet, and tucked neatly beneath it, a piece of thick, cream-colored cardstock. Her hands gave a small, traitorous tremble as she lifted the note. To the women who have brought so much light and grace into this circle: I need you both by my side as my bridesmaids. I can't imagine walking into my forever this December without you two standing right there with me. Will you be by my side? Bitsy’s throat went tight, a sudden, warm ache of belonging blooming in her chest. She looked up, and Vic was watching her, his usual theatricality replaced by a raw, hopeful vulnerability. "I know it’s a lot," Vic said, his voice dropping to a register that carried clearly through the hushed terrace. "But you’re family, Bitsy. You’re more family than people who share my last name. I can’t do this day without you.
" She looked around the table. Silas was watching her with a nod that felt like a quiet blessing.
Zane, Hudson, and Marcus all looked at her with a depth of warmth that finally, truly, settled her.
She was no longer watching from the periphery; she was an essential part of the picture.
She turned to Wyatt. He was smiling—that slow, prideful look she lived for.
"Yes," she said, her voice small but ringing with clarity.
She beamed at Vic. "Yes, Vic. I would love to.
" Lennon let out a joyous sound and surged across the table, grabbing Bitsy’s hands.
"We’re doing this!" The table erupted into a roar of genuine, heartfelt celebration. "You know," Vic said, leaning forward and tapping his wine glass again, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "Since we have the official confirmation, I think it’s only appropriate that we start the real planning. Lennon, Bitsy, I’ve been looking at floral arrangements for the aisle, and I need a pair of expert opinions. I’m thinking of deep crimson roses with lush, dark holly leaves and gold-dusted accents, but I’m worried it might be too much.
" He paused, looking around the table with a theatrical pout.
"Although, honestly, if anyone thinks it's too much, they clearly don't understand the assignment.
" "I think your vision is classic," Bitsy chimed in, feeling the thrill of being asked for her opinion. She leaned in, pulling her chair closer to Vic’s side of the table.
"But if you're worried about them feeling too heavy, what if you balanced the crimson roses with some white winterberries or frosted eucalyptus?
" Vic gasped, his eyes widening. "Frosted eucalyptus.
Bitsy, you genius. Marcus, write that down!
Frosted eucalyptus and winterberries it is.
" Marcus just laughed, tapping a note into his phone.
"Noted, darling." Bitsy laughed, a genuine, easy sound.
It was so simple—just talking about flowers, just sharing an opinion—but it felt like she was finally contributing to the foundation of their lives.
She wasn't just a bystander watching them move through the world; she was walking right alongside them.
The night wore on, the conversation flowing from wedding logistics to stories of their younger years, to inside jokes that Bitsy finally understood.
It was the kind of dinner that didn't just fill your stomach; it filled your spirit.
As the waiter brought the check, Bitsy looked around the table one more time.
Everyone was relaxed, the tension of their busy lives completely forgotten.
They were just friends—no, they were more than that.
They were a family. Wyatt reached over, his hand resting on her knee, a silent, intimate gesture that spoke volumes.
He didn't have to say anything for her to know how he felt.
He was proud of her. He was happy for her.
And he was right there with her. "I think," Silas said, standing up and checking his watch, "that we should probably start heading out. We’ve kept the restaurant staff long enough.
" "Nonsense!" Vic declared, waving a hand.
"We haven't even discussed the cake options yet!
" "Vic," Marcus said gently, placing a hand on his arm, his voice a low, steady rumble of affection. "Let’s let these lovely ladies get some rest tonight. We have plenty of time for more decadence, but I think we’ve reached our limit for one evening.
" Vic sighed, a dramatic, long-suffering sound, but he nodded, his gaze softening as he looked at the two women he had just asked to stand by his side.
"Fine. You win, Marcus. But don't think for a second that this is the end of the planning. We’re only just getting started.
" As they began to stand, the terrace buzzing with the sound of chairs moving and final laughs, Bitsy felt a profound sense of gratitude.
She looked at Lennon, who was beaming at Silas, and then at Wyatt, who was helping her get her bag, his touch lingering on her arm a second longer than necessary.
"Ready?" He asked, his voice low and warm, his eyes holding a secret, possessive spark that made her breath hitch.
"So ready," she replied, her voice steady and sure.
They walked out into the cool spring night, the stars overhead looking like scattered diamonds against the deep, velvet sky.
The air was crisp, and the world felt quiet and vast. Bitsy took a deep breath, the scent of the night air filling her lungs—sweet, clean, and full of possibility.
This was it. This was the life she had wanted.
Not just the big moments, but the small ones, too—the dinners, the laughs, the late-night conversations.
It was all hers, and it felt more real than anything she had ever known.
As they reached the car, she turned to Wyatt, wanting to say something, but finding the words failing her.
She didn't need them. She reached up and kissed him, a slow, deep, and lingering kiss that held all the gratitude, all the love, and all the hope she had in her heart.
Wyatt pulled back, his eyes searching hers, his expression soft and filled with a raw, unvarnished love.
"I'm so glad you're here, Itsy-Bitsy. Right here.
With me." "I'm so glad I'm here too, Daddy" she whispered, her voice filled with conviction.
"I'm right where I belong." They got into the car, the engine purring to life as they pulled away from the restaurant.
The lights of the city began to fade in the rearview mirror, but she didn't look back.
She was looking forward to the future, to the wedding, to the coming winter, and to everything that lay ahead.
She was ready for it all. She was ready for the life they were all building together.
It was perfect. It was everything. And it was all hers to keep.