Chapter 21
I never expected the morning of my wedding to feel this calm. There was no thunder in my chest, no sharp ache of old memories pulling me backward. Just soft sunlight spilling through the hotel room window, the faint hum of hairdryers and laughter as Alice pinned my hair back and the makeup artist fussed over my veil.
–
On the dresser lay two boxes I hadn’t opened yet. I already knew who they were from. The first was wrapped in navy blue Clinton’s color, once. Inside, a single white rose and a folded note in his rough, familiar handwriting. “Goodbye, Chloe. Be happy. This is the last thing I can do for you.”
I read it once, my eyes dry. There was no ache anymore, just a distant sadness for the boy who could have loved me if he’d only known how. I placed the rose in the glass vase by the window and didn’t look at it again.
The second was from my father. He hadn’t tried to come in person, only sent the letter by courier: “I wish I could be there. I know it’s too late for a father’s blessing, but I hope you find the peace I never gave you.
—
Leo.”
I didn’t bother reading the rest. I slipped it back into the envelope, tucking it away in a drawer I’d never open again.
—
Carlos, though he did come. He knocked gently just as the staff was pinning my train. He stood there in his crisp suit, cane in hand, looking smaller than he ever had in that grand house where he’d once held my hand like it was something fragile and precious. “May I?” he asked.
–
–
I smiled and let him in. He took my hands so gentle and kissed my knuckles the way he used to when Clinton and I first married. Back when we still believed we were something that could last.
“I’m so sorry for everything you had to endure,” Carlos whispered. “Thank you for letting me see you begin again.”
“Thank you for being the only one who didn’t look away,” I said. I squeezed his hands. “You’re welcome to every tomorrow I have.”
The ceremony was small – just as I wanted. A courtyard tucked behind the hotel, wisteria vines tumbling over the old stone walls. Nathan waited for me at the end of the aisle, the late afternoon sun catching the gold in his hair, his eyes wide and warm like they always were when he looked at me now – not like a possession, but like a promise.
My dress was simple – no heavy beading, no stiff corset. Just silk that slipped over my shoulders like a sigh, the veil a soft whisper trailing behind me.
When we reached each other, he caught my hand crumpled scrap of paper, but he didn’t need it.
–
steady, certain. He’d written his vows on a
“Chloe,” he said, his voice low, carrying across the hush of our families. “I loved you when we were kids, when you laughed at my dumb jokes in the back row. I loved you when you left, when you hurt me. I loved you when you came back. And I will love you for every sunrise we’re lucky enough to see together.”
I didn’t realize I was crying until his thumb brushed my cheek. My vows felt like they’d always been there, pressed under my tongue since the day I first let him in again.
–
“Nathan. I lost myself once more than once. And you stood there every time, waiting to remind me who I am. You never asked me to stay. You just loved me. And that’s why I’m here. Because choose you. I choose you, every day, every storm, every joy.”
The guests clapped and wiped their tears. Carlos beamed, eyes bright. Alice squeezed my shoulder when she passed me the ring. And when Nathan slipped it onto my finger, I felt like I could finally breathe.
The kiss was soft
mouths.
–
no grand show for anyone else. Just us, tasting freedom in each other’s
The reception was warm and easy, no stiff speeches, no forced laughter. We kept it small good food, the people who mattered. Nathan spun me around the dance floor to our old high school song, our friends cheering when he dipped me low and I nearly tripped on my own train. When the cake was cut, I snuck away for a moment to stand by the garden doors, watching the string lights flicker like fireflies above the tables. Nathan found me there, wrapping his arms around my waist, pressing his nose into my neck.
“Thinking already?” he teased, voice muffled by my hair.
“Just… breathing,” I murmured. “This is the first night in years I don’t feel like I’m waiting fo something bad to happen.”
He turned me to face him, tipping my chin up. “Nothing bad will ever touch you again. Not if I have anything to do with it.”
And when he kissed me, I believed him.
The honeymoon was a small coastal town tucked into cliffs that smelled like salt and old pine trees. Our suite overlooked the sea, waves crashing below our balcony every night. We spent days wandering sunlit markets, nights wrapped in each other under thin linen sheets.
We never spoke of the past there. There was no need. We filled our mornings with lazy breakfasts, long talks, and the promise that tomorrow would always feel like this soft, light,
ours.
–
One morning, weeks after we came home, I sat in the café’s back office, the same spot where my world once burned. Now it was warm again – my safe place, my second heartbeat.
When the test came back positive, I laughed and cried into Nathan’s chest, the two lines clear as day. He held me so tight I felt his joy vibrate through my bones.
“Yes! We’re having a baby!” We both cheered.
