Page 17 of The Hang Up (Lilac Harbor #3)
SEVENTEEN
Holden
Six Months Later…
I’ve faced combat drills in the Army, jumped out of planes at night, and once got stuck under a flipped canoe in a freezing river.
None of that compares to how nervous I am right now.
I tug at the cuffs of my shirt. My collar feels too tight even though Wade already loosened it. The barn we rented for the wedding buzzes with activity—flowers being placed, chairs adjusted, music tested—but all I can hear is my heartbeat.
“She’s not going to change her mind, you know.”
I turn toward Wade’s voice. He’s leaning against the wall behind me, arms crossed, tie already loosened. Typical.
“I know that,” I mutter, even though I’ve thought about it approximately eighty-five times this morning.
He grins. “You look like you’re going to pass out.”
“I might,” I admit. “But only after I say, ‘I do.’”
Wade claps a hand on my shoulder. “You’ve loved that girl since high school, man. You’re not just ready. You were built for this.”
I swallow hard and nod, the lump in my throat suddenly too big to ignore.
He straightens my boutonnière and adds, “Plus, if you screw this up, Auden will kill you.”
That earns a short laugh from me. “Terrifying woman.”
“Absolutely.”
There’s a knock on the doorframe, and Ray sticks his head in. “It’s time.”
Everything in me stills.
Time.
Time to marry Lena.
Time to make her mine in every possible way.
Time to begin forever.
I walk out into the barn, the wooden archway decorated with wildflowers and linen, the rows of chairs filled with our closest friends and family. The sun filters through the open doors behind us, casting everything in a golden glow.
It smells like lavender and lemon and sawdust from the beams above.
I stand at the altar, fingers twitching at my sides.
And then the music shifts.
Everyone stands.
And there she is.
Lena.
In a simple white dress that clings to her like a second skin, her hair half up and soft around her face, flowers woven through the curls. Her bouquet trembles slightly in her hands, but her eyes? They’re steady.
Locked on mine.
I can’t breathe.
I can’t think.
She’s everything.
She walks toward me slowly, like she’s never been in a rush a day in her life and has always known this moment would come.
Maybe she did.
Maybe we both did.
When she reaches me, I take her hand and feel her tremble, the same tremble in my chest, and I know we’re on the same page.
The officiant says words I barely hear. I nod when I’m supposed to. Lena smiles at me like I hung the stars.
Then it’s time for our vows.
We decided to write our own in secret—something just for us.
I take out the piece of paper from my pocket and unfold it with shaky fingers.
But I don’t read it.
I just speak.
“Lena,” I say, voice low and thick, “I’ve loved every version of you. The girl who gave up everything for the people she loved. The woman who found her way back to herself. The mother of our daughter. The owner of my heart.”
She’s already crying.
I swallow hard and keep going.
“I left once, and I’ve regretted it every day since. But I came back because I couldn’t imagine a future that didn’t have you in it. You’ve made me softer. Stronger. Whole. I promise to love you through every version of the future, through every chapter. And I promise never to let go again.”
A tear slips down her cheek as she reaches for my hand.
“Holden,” she begins, her voice shaking, “I always hoped you would come back. Even when I was mad and told myself I didn’t care anymore… I did. I loved you then. I love you more now. And I know I’ll love you most tomorrow.”
We exchange rings, hers a simple band beside the wooden one I carved all those years ago. I can see it on her finger, worn and treasured.
And then, finally— finally —we kiss.
I pull her in, hand at her jaw, and press my mouth to hers like I’ve waited a lifetime.
Because I have.
The reception is a blur of laughter and music and dancing under the stars. Wade gives a speech that makes me want to both hug him and punch him. Auden and Arlowe cry into their champagne.
And then, when the music fades and the lights begin to dim, Lena and I slip away.
We walk barefoot through the grass, back to our lake house, fingers tangled, her bouquet forgotten somewhere on the sweetheart table.
Inside, the house is quiet and warm.
She slips off her shoes and turns to me, eyes glowing.
“Married,” she whispers.
“Finally,” I say.
She slides into my arms, and we stand there, in the center of the living room, holding each other while the rest of the world falls away.
“I’ve never felt so loved,” she murmurs.
“I’ve never loved anything more.”
We don’t need fireworks.
We don’t need a big finale.
Just this.
The quiet after.
The promise kept.
The forever we fought for.
And when I carry her to our room, her head resting on my shoulder, her fingers playing with the collar of my shirt, I know, deep in my bones, that I will spend the rest of my life making her as happy as she makes me.
Sometimes, love is written in stone.
Ours was carved in wood.
And it was always meant to last.