Page 65 of Most Likely to Deny Love (Yearbook #2)

MIA

E mily was crying again.

Not full ugly-crying, just little, misty, “my best friend is getting married and I forgot waterproof mascara” crying. Which, for her, was basically a full emotional collapse.

“Okay,” she sniffled, pinning one last stray curl behind my ear. “You sure about this? I mean, not the guy, obviously, he’s beyond gorgeous and looks at you like you’re the center of his universe. But like… the speed? Nan snapped her fingers and boom, instant wedding.”

We stood in the side room of the little mountain chapel, late winter sun streaming in from a stained glass window.

I glanced at myself in the full-length mirror. White dress. Nervous smile. Absolute certainty.

Smoothing my hands down the soft ivory silk of my dress, I took a moment to imagine Jack’s face when I would walk up the aisle.

The A-line skirt was very flattering and the Queen Anne neckline did all sorts of things for my cleavage.

Of course, I’d worn my hair swept to the side, just the way Jack liked.

I’d never been more certain of anything in my life.

I met Emily’s eyes in the mirror. “I’m one hundred percent sure. I love him so much it scares me sometimes. I want this. Even if it’s fast. Even if we’re technically getting married for Nan.”

Emily blinked fast, trying not to cry harder. “You’re getting married for you. Nan just hustled the timeline like a mafia grandma.”

“She really did,” I smiled softly. “When she asked Jack if we could bring the wedding forward, because she was worried about her health... well, of course I wasn’t going to say no. And honestly? The fact that we didn’t have time for a big guest list feels like a blessing in disguise.”

“You might not be saying that when you face your mom after the honeymoon, but if you’re sure…”

“I’m sure.”

There was a knock on the door and the soft murmur of the officiant.

“Showtime.” Emily’s voice wobbled as she handed me my bouquet and leaned in, pressing her forehead to mine. “Let’s get you hitched, babe.”

“Yes, let’s.”

The little chapel smelled like pinewood and fresh flowers, with worn pews and a scratched floor. It wasn’t fancy. But it was perfect.

Jack was waiting at the front, wearing a perfectly tailored navy suit that made his hazel eyes look almost green. His hands were in his pockets, his jaw tight. But when our eyes met, he looked at me like I was something holy.

Nan sat in the front row, elegant in pale blue, her silver hair swept back and fastened with antique combs.

Emily went up the aisle in front of me, taking her seat next to Nan, who winked at me as I passed. The gesture was so full of mischief and affection that I nearly laughed through my welling tears.

When I reached Jack, he took my hands in his, his thumbs brushing over my knuckles in that familiar, soothing rhythm.

“You look incredible,” he whispered, his voice rough with emotion.

“So do you.”

The officiant, a soft-spoken woman with kind eyes that Jack had somehow found on three weeks’ notice, smiled at us both before beginning the ceremony.

The official part was short, sweet, with maybe six lines total, not counting the official stuff. When the officiant asked if we wanted to say a few words, Jack pulled something out of his pocket.

A yellow Post-it.

I almost lost it, making a noise that was half sob, half laugh. “God,” I whispered, “you had to go with the Post-its.”

He smiled, cleared his throat and started reading.

“Mia, you showed up in my life when I least expected it and most needed it. You made me believe in love, in joy, in the possibility that I could be worthy of someone as extraordinary as you. I promise to love you, to protect you, to make you laugh when you’re sad and hold you when you’re scared.

I promise to be your partner in all things, for all of my days. I love you.”

Oh god, I was about to turn into a puddle of goo. I just stood there, gazing up at my about to be husband, lost for words.

The officiant gave a discreet cough. “Mia, it’s your turn.”

“Oh, right.” I took a steadying breath. “Jack, I used to think love meant twisting myself into shapes to fit someone else’s ideal.

With you, I just… get to be me. You saw me when I couldn’t see myself.

You made me brave enough to believe I deserved real love, not the scraps I’d been settling for.

I promise to love you fiercely, to stand by your side through whatever comes, and to never let you forget how amazing you are. I love you.”

My hands shook as we exchanged rings, and then the officiant said, “I now pronounce you, husband and wife. You may kiss the bride.”

Jack’s hands framed my face with infinite tenderness, his hazel eyes locked on mine. “I love you, Mia Sullivan,” he murmured, just for me.

“I love you too,” I whispered back, rising on tiptoes to meet him halfway.

Jack’s kiss was soft and reverent, like he was sealing a sacred promise. Like forever was already happening. Like I’d never have to question whether I was wanted, or worthy, or enough.

And I kissed him back like I’d waited my whole damn life for it.

We only broke apart when Nan’s stern, “Now, that’s enough, you two. You’ve got a wedding certificate to sign and a plane to catch. You can’t be standing here all night making out.”

The officiant guided us to the little signing table next to the altar. Jack signed first, then me, then Emily as my witness, and Nan as Jack’s.

Then the chapel’s caretaker emerged from the side room with a tray of champagne flutes, Jack taking the bottle from him with a grateful nod.

“A toast is in order.” Jack popped the cork with that quiet confidence that still made my stomach flutter, then filled our glasses.

As we each took a flute, Nan cleared her throat. “Well, I suppose this is as good a time as any for a confession.”

Jack slipped his arm around my waist, pulling me close. “What kind of confession?”

Nan’s blue eyes twinkled with mischief. “My test results came back clean last week. Turns out it was just an inner ear infection causing the dizziness. Nothing more serious than that. The doctors say I’m in remarkably good health for a woman my age.”

There was a beat of complete silence.

“Last week?” Jack repeated slowly. “You knew you were fine last week?”

“I did indeed.” Nan didn’t look remotely apologetic. “But by then you two had already planned this lovely wedding, and I thought, why waste all that effort?”

“Nan.” Jack’s voice held equal parts exasperation and relief. “You let us believe?—”

“That I might not have much time left?” She shrugged. “Well, technically, none of us know how much time we have left, dear.”

“You manipulated us,” Jack said, but there was no heat in his words, only a growing amusement.

“I prefer to think of it as giving fate a helpful nudge.” She turned to me, her expression softening. “You two were always meant to find each other. I just made sure you didn’t waste precious time once you did.”

I laughed softly. “I should be outraged, but honestly, I’m just impressed. And also, thank you.”

“You can thank me by getting started on those great grandbabies. I’m not getting any younger, you know.”

Jack’s eyes almost bugged out of his head. “Babies? Nan, we’ve been married less than five minutes.”

“Well, you also aren’t getting any younger, are you? But for now,” she raised her champagne glass. “To the Sullivans.”

As we clinked glasses, I caught Jack’s gaze. The love I saw there, open and unguarded, still took my breath away. Some distances were indeed worth crossing, and I’d cross them all again to end up right here, right now, exactly where I belonged.

“I love you, Jack,” I whispered, just for him.

He leaned down, his lips brushing my ear. “I love you, Mia Sullivan. Forever.”

And in that moment, with the mountains surrounding us and the people we loved beside us, forever felt like exactly the right amount of time.