Page 45 of Glitches and Kisses (The Havenwood #2)

Evan

The rehearsal dinner for Elliott and Jules had the distinct kind of nostalgia that hugged your ribs and tugged gently with every breath. Held in the lush backyard of Jules’s childhood home, the setting was intimate. The large oaks had strings of fairy lights hung above us.

We caught up with Callie, who immediately dragged us over to a circle that included Harper, Maxie, Sam, and Liam.

Ezra and Avery made their way over at some point, drinks in hand and cheeks flushed from laughter.

Tess had already found the dessert table and was holding court about the politics of frosting.

Noah was charming, in his own quiet way.

He wasn’t the most talkative, but when he leaned in to comment on something or ask someone a question, people listened.

He laughed at my stories, nudged me when I got too dramatic, and once, when Maxie made an offhand joke about how surprisingly domestic we seemed now, he just smiled and said, “He keeps me fed and I let him win at board games. It’s a fair trade. ”

There was a moment, just after dusk, when we wandered away from the crowd to the edge of the yard.

The lights from the house glowed behind us and the sound of music and conversation dulled to a soft hum.

There were some stumps that looked perfect for sitting on as we watched the fireflies blinked lazily in the trees

“I didn’t know how this would feel,” I admitted. “Coming back here. Being with everyone again. ”

He didn’t say anything right away. Just reached out, took my hand, and squeezed.

“I’m glad I get to be here with you,” he said quietly. “Even if half these people still intimidate me.”

“Only half?” I asked with a wink.

He smiled, leaning his shoulder into mine. “Okay. Maybe more than half.”

We heard footsteps on the gravel behind us, and I turned to see Callie and Sam making their way toward us, both looking a little hesitant, a little sheepish.

“Hey,” Callie said softly, stopping a few feet away. “We didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“No, it’s fine,” Noah said, sitting up a bit straighter.

Sam shoved his hands into his pockets. “We just… we wanted to say we’re sorry. For all the crap we said before. About your relationship. About how we thought we knew what was best for you both.”

Callie nodded, their eyes earnest. “We thought we were helping. But we weren’t. And seeing you two now… it’s clear we were wrong to push the way we did.”

I exchanged a glance with Noah, feeling the tightness in my chest release a little.

“Thank you,” I said. “That means a lot.”

Noah’s voice was calm, but honest. “It wasn’t easy, hearing that from the people we care about. But… I appreciate you saying this. Really.”

Callie gave a small, relieved smile. “We just want you both to be happy. That’s all we ever wanted.”

Sam nodded, quieter than usual. “And for what it’s worth? Looks like you’ve got that covered.”

The tension broke, just a little, and I let out a quiet laugh, something unguarded and real. Like maybe we were all finally on the same page.

Then, without warning, Callie stepped forward and wrapped us both into a hug. I felt Noah stiffen for half a second before he gave in to it. Sam joined a beat later, arms looping around both of us in that awkward-but-earnest way that only Sam could pull off.

He held on for an extra second, then turned slightly toward Noah. “Hey,” he said, his voice low but steady. “I’m sorry. For what I said at Bright Horizons. For all of it, really. You’re a great friend. And I was a shitty one. ”

I felt Noah’s breath catch next to me, saw the way his shoulders shifted slightly, like something deep inside him had been seen.

“Thanks,” Noah said simply, and that was all. But I could hear the weight in it. So could Sam.

Callie pulled back and nudged Sam’s side. “Look at us. Emotional breakthroughs and everything. We’re practically grown-ups.”

Sam rolled his eyes and rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah, don’t get used to it. We’re still much better at bad advice and meddling.”

Noah let out a soft snort, his mouth tugging into a smile that made something in my chest settle. “Noted.”

We stood there a moment longer, quiet and close, like a reset had finally taken hold.

Then Noah’s hand slid into mine again, confident this time. And for the first time in too damn long, it felt like everything, absolutely everything , was exactly where it was supposed to be.

The rehearsal dinner was filled with laughter, clinking glasses, and the comforting hum of shared history.

But it was this, this small moment away from it all, Noah’s fingers intertwined with mine, the warmth of his presence steady beside me, that reminded me just how far we’d come.

And how much I never wanted to go back to a version of life without this.

Noah

The wedding day unfolded like something out of a movie, but not the glossy, overproduced kind.

More like an indie film with perfect lighting and quiet, gut-punch moments that stick with you long after the credits roll.

The kind Jules would call honest. The kind Elliott would analyze and admire, then secretly cry over when no one was watching.

It was all simplicity and intention. No towering floral arrangements or over-the-top drama. Just a stretch of green lawn, rows of white chairs, and two men who’d decided to walk into forever side by side.

Literally.

Jules and Elliott didn’t do the traditional wait-at-the-altar setup. They entered together, hands linked, walking down the aisle as equals. The moment wasn’t grand or choreographed. It was grounded and steady. Like them.

Jules looked incredible in a pale grey suit that fit like it had been sewn onto him by magic. Elliott matched in charcoal, a subtle coordination that said more about their bond than any over-the-top gesture could.

Caleb, Elliott’s fourteen-year-old son, stood proudly at the front as his dad’s best man, straightening his tie with nervous excitement that melted into a wide, genuine smile the moment he saw them walking in.

There was something in his eyes, pride, love, maybe even relief, that made it clear how much it meant to him to see his dad this happy.

Even Elliott’s ex-wife, Anna, was there, sitting near the front, her expression warm and supportive. She and Jules had somehow become good friends over time, and watching her clap along with the rest of us as they made their entrance only proved how far they’d all come.

Callie stood beside Jules as his person of honor, dabbing at the corners of their eyes before the ceremony even began, somehow managing to look elegantly androgynous in true Callie fashion.

They wore a tailored charcoal suit with a slim, modern cut and a deep plum silk shirt that caught the light.

A simple silver chain rested at their collarbone, and polished black boots completed the look strikingly and perfectly.

The crowd hushed when they appeared. All the buzzing conversation evaporated into something reverent.

There was no dramatic music swell, no theatrical pause for effect.

Just the soft sound of their dress shoes against the aisle runner and the calm energy between them.

And when they reached the front and turned to face each other, I swear the moment demanded everyone present to truly witness what love looked like.

The giant oak trees that had stood watch over Jules’s childhood accompanied by a simple arch draped in trailing ivy and wildflowers framed them.

Their vows hit hard in that quiet, gut-deep way. They talked about love not as a lightning bolt, but as a garden. Something planted. Nurtured. Fought for. They promised growth. Laughter. The hard conversations. The coming back, again and again.

It wasn’t just a ceremony. It was a declaration. And as they slid rings onto each other’s fingers, I felt Evan’s hand tighten around mine.

And when it was over, when they kissed and everyone clapped and the petals flew, I realized my hand was still tightly locked with Evan’s.

Later, at the reception, that same simplicity carried through.

The tables weren’t dressed in extravagant centerpieces or gilded name cards.

Instead, each one had a single handmade bouquet, paper flowers folded from the pages of scripts.

Scene excerpts, stage directions, character monologues turned into delicate petals.

Jules’s handwriting peeked out here and there, tiny notes scribbled in margins, lines crossed and reworked. It was imperfect and deeply personal.

Alongside each bouquet sat a small chalkboard, no bigger than a folded napkin, bearing a handwritten quote.

Elliott’s touch. All pulled from his favorite historical figures, James Baldwin, Ruth Bader Ginsburg, Bayard Rustin, Eleanor Roosevelt.

Quiet declarations of love, commitment, and change.

‘ Love takes off the masks we fear we cannot live without and know we cannot live within.’ The mix of theatre and history made the room feel like a shared diary, equal parts stage and classroom, paper and chalk.

“Are those from Angels in America ?” Evan asked, pointing to the table closest to us.

“Yeah,” I said. “And that one’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream . Jules’s first show in Havenwood.”

The whole space felt like a scrapbook of their lives, threads of theatre, education, family, and quiet revolution stitched together in candlelight.

Their first dance wasn’t a typical wedding pick, it was “Heroes ” by David Bowie. A little offbeat, a little rebellious, and completely them. They didn’t perform. They didn’t make a scene. They just held each other and swayed, beaming like they still couldn’t believe they’d pulled it off.

Later, Caleb and Callie stood to toast the grooms. Callie with a glass of sparkling rosé, Caleb with a ginger ale and more poise than any fourteen-year-old had a right to.

“I’ve never seen my dad smile like he does when he’s with Jules,” Caleb said, clearing his throat halfway through. “It’s really cool to see someone you love be that happy.”

Callie picked up from there, adding, “And I’ve never seen Jules this soft. It’s honestly alarming. But it’s beautiful. You two are proof that love doesn’t have to be loud to be revolutionary.”

We danced. Not well. But we danced. Evan spun me during some Whitney Houston remix and almost took out a centerpiece made from The Laramie Project . I pulled him close during a slower song, hands on his waist, forehead to his temple, letting the moment stretch.

By the time we stepped outside again, our shoes were off, our jackets long forgotten. We sat by the fountain. “This was a good day,” I said.

Evan turned toward me, that soft, open look on his face. “You’ve been showing up for me. Really showing up. I need you to know I see that.”

I met his eyes. “I’ve been trying. You make it easier to try. ”

He smiled and said, “I love you.”

“I know,” I replied. “I love you too.”

He leaned in, forehead resting against mine, and for a moment, the world went quiet. No music, no distant voices, just the hush of night. His thumb brushed against my knee reminding me this was real. Not a maybe. Not something I had to second-guess.

This was us. It wasn’t perfect. It never would be. But it was ours. And that is enough.

So, I kissed him. Not because the moment demanded it, but because I wanted to.