Page 14 of The Wreckage Of Us (US #2)

Ace

The sunlight bled softly through the plane window, warm and golden across Brittany’s face as we descended into LA.

She had her head against my shoulder, fingers interlaced with mine.

I kissed the top of her head and closed my eyes briefly, breathing her in.

Home never felt like a place anymore. It was her. Wherever she was.

We were back to finalize everything before the big move to Arkansas.

Selling my apartment, packing up Sierra’s things, and most importantly, letting go of everything that tried to break us.

Brittany hadn’t met Karla yet — Sierra’s daughter, my little girl in every way that mattered.

She was the last piece Brittany hadn’t seen.

The next morning, we pulled into the quiet, familiar neighborhood where Sierra’s parents still lived.

Karla was already outside, sitting on the porch with a doll in her lap, her curls bouncing around her face like a halo of mischief.

She stood when she saw me, beaming, and ran straight into my arms.

"Daddy! You said you'd be here yesterday," she pouted into my chest.

"I know, baby girl. The plane was slow. Can I have a hug to make up for it?"

She wrapped her arms tight around me. My heart cracked open every single time.

Brittany stood a few steps behind me, watching us with wide, curious eyes. Karla peeked over my shoulder, then whispered, "Is that your friend?"

I crouched and looked between them. "That’s Brittany, sweetheart. She’s very special to me. Want to say hi?"

Karla blinked at her, took a shy step forward, then frowned in that exaggerated toddler way. "You're really pretty," she said, then added with absolute confusion, "But you're... Daddy's girlfriend?"

Brittany knelt down to Karla’s level and smiled gently. "Yes, I am. It’s a little weird, huh?"

Karla nodded solemnly. "Does that mean I have to share you with Daddy now?"

I held my breath.

Brittany reached out and tucked a curl behind Karla’s ear. "Only if you want to. But I don’t want to take him from you. I want to be in your life too. Maybe we can all share."

Karla looked between us for a long moment, then smiled. "Okay. But you gotta like unicorns."

Brittany grinned. "I love unicorns."

And just like that, they were a team.

Later that day, I finally did what I’d been avoiding for years.

Jasper stood by his grill in the backyard, flipping burgers while his youngest, Colt, tried to climb up his leg.

The house was filled with noise and laughter — Kyle and Astrid chasing each other through the sprinklers, Nathan trying to get Celic to dance to the music playing from the patio.

Corinne was inside with Brittany, helping her look at houses near theirs in Arkansas.

"You’ve been quiet," Jasper said, handing me a beer. "That usually means you’re about to do something dumb or emotional. Which one is it today?"

I took a long sip and exhaled. "Both."

He raised a brow.

I set the beer down. "I’ve been in love with your sister for a long time. Since before Sierra. Before going to college. Before everything.Before I had any right to. I am also part of the reason she got into depression and anorexic"I tell him

Jasper froze, spatula mid-air.

"I didn’t say anything because I knew you’d kill me. Or worse, look at me like you’re looking now."

He didn’t speak. Just stared.

"But I need you to know, I love her. I’ve always loved her. I just didn’t believe I deserved her. Until now."

The silence stretched.

Before I could comprehend anything,I knew what was coming, Jasper's fist hits my face and I stumble back, clutching my bleeding nose.

"I deserve that" I mutter

"You deserve fucking words! How can you do this to her! You are fucking piece of shit! You are lucky my wife wouldn't approve of this and I can see Brit is happy,or else I would have had you bleeding on the floor" he hisses quietly.

There is another stretch of silence as he paces back and forth.

Then he stops and lets out a sigh,

Then he said, voice low, "Do you love her enough to stay? To build a life and not run when things get hard?"

"I’m already building it. I’m all in, Jas."

He clapped a hand on my shoulder. "You better be because you’re a lucky son of a bitch. And I’m happy for you. Don’t mess it up."

That night, Brittany stood in front of her mother’s door, hands shaking slightly. She’d been quiet all afternoon.

"You don’t have to do this today," I said.

"Yes. I do."

She knocked once. The door creaked open, revealing her mother — same cold eyes, same tight smile.

"What do you want, Brittany?"

Brittany didn’t flinch. "I want you to know that you were a shitty mother. You hurt me in ways I’m still trying to recover from. And I’m done carrying the weight of your cruelty."

Her mother sneered. "You think you’re better now? With him?"

"No," Brittany said calmly. "But I’m healing. And if you want to be part of my life — our life — you have to change. Otherwise, I’m closing this door and not looking back."

I stood behind her, not saying a word. Just a silent wall of support.

Her mother opened her mouth, then closed it. Brittany turned and walked away.

And just like that, she was free.

Two days later, I took her to the place that had been waiting for this moment for years.

It was an old hiking trail outside LA. At the top, the cliffs opened out onto a horizon so wide and endless, it felt like the world paused for breath.

The sun was sinking low, casting the sky in streaks of peach, lavender, and gold.

The breeze carried her hair around her face, and my chest ached with how beautiful she looked.

"Why here?" she asked.

I smiled. "Because this is where I used to come when I thought life had nothing left for me. And now, it’s the place where I ask for everything."

She looked at me, heart in her eyes.

I took a deep breath, reached into my pocket, and dropped to one knee.

"Brittany Ashford... You saved me. You didn’t even mean to. You just existed, and somehow, that made me believe in life again. I’ve loved you since the moment you showed up at Jasper’s party with your fire and your broken edges and that goddamn laugh that made me feel alive."

Her hand covered her mouth.

"I want to build a life with you. With Karla. With all the chaos that comes with it. I want to wake up beside you every day and still be in awe that you chose me. So, will you do me the honor of being my wife?"

Tears slid down her cheeks, glittering in the sunset.

"Yes," she whispered. Then louder, "Yes! Yes! A thousand times, yes."

I slipped the ring onto her finger, stood, and pulled her into me. Her arms wrapped tight around my neck, and I kissed her like I’d waited a lifetime.

The wind howled around us, the world bathed in golden light, and for the first time, everything was still.

This was it.

She was my beginning.

And my forever.

As we stood on that cliff, the sun dipping beneath the edge of the earth, Brittany leaned into me, her head on my chest.

"You know what I realized today?" she said.

"What’s that?"

"I’m not afraid anymore. Not of love. Not of moving forward. Not even of becoming someone’s wife."

I kissed her forehead. "You’ve always been brave. You just forgot for a while."

She smiled, eyes on the ring glinting in the last of the sunlight. "We’re really doing this, huh?"

"Yeah, baby," I said, holding her tighter. "We really are."

I never believed I deserved a happy ending. But this — this woman, this moment, this life — it was better than any ending.

It was a beginning.

Epilogue

Brittany

The scent of roses drifted in the air like music—faint, sweet, intentional.

Everything around me glowed. Not from the chandeliers dripping with crystals or the thousands of fairy lights strung like stars across the glass dome above us, but from the warmth in my chest, the kind that only love this real could bring.

I stood in the bridal suite, staring at myself in the mirror.

My dress—custom Chanel—was everything I had ever imagined and more.

Inspired by Sofia Richie’s timeless gown but elevated, more sophisticated, with delicate hand-embroidered lace at the bodice, a drop waist that hugged every curve with regal confidence, and a dramatic cathedral-length veil trailing behind me like a queen’s shadow.

I looked... like someone else. No, not someone else.

Like the version of myself I had fought so damn hard to become.

"You’re glowing," Corinne whispered behind me. She adjusted my veil, her eyes glassy. She looked breathtaking herself in a sleek champagne satin gown that clung to her statuesque figure like liquid moonlight.

I swallowed, blinking back the tears. "I’m scared I’ll ruin my makeup."

"Who cares," Tate said, bursting through the doorway in his dusty-rose tailored tux, holding a flute of champagne in one hand and my bouquet in the other. "You’re the bride. Ruin the damn makeup. Sob. Scream. Marry that man and let us ugly cry with you."

Sylvia laughed from her chair, reapplying her lipstick. "Tate, sit down before you spill champagne on the bride’s veil."

"Bride butler privileges!" he announced, prancing to my side with a mock bow. "Your bouquet, Your Royal Hotness."

I took it, smiling at the soft pink peonies and ivory gardenias, wrapped in white silk ribbon. My hands trembled slightly.

“Deep breath,” Corinne said gently. “You’re not just marrying anyone. You’re marrying Aceson. He’s your home.”

A knock interrupted us.

“Karla wants to see her bride,” someone called from the door.

Corinne opened it and there she was. Four years old, her curls pinned back with tiny pearls, a delicate flower crown sitting crooked on her head, and her fluffy white dress making her look like a petal spun into life.

"Hi, Brittany," she said shyly, holding a tiny basket of rose petals.

I knelt down, brushing a strand from her cheek. "You look like an angel, baby. Are you ready to be the most important part of the wedding?"

She giggled. "I thought you were the most important. Daddy said you are."

My heart flipped.

“Can I walk with you?” she asked.

“Of course you can.” I kissed her cheek. She smelled like strawberries and innocence.

Then came the knock that made my breath catch.

“It’s time,” someone said. And when I turned, my father stood there.

He looked dashing in his black tux, his senator’s posture upright and proud, his eyes rimmed in red. He stared at me like I was the sun.

“Hi, Daddy,” I whispered.

“Oh, sweetheart.” He stepped forward, pulling me into a hug. “You take my breath away. You always have.”

I closed my eyes, inhaling the familiar scent of cedar and citrus, grounding me.

“I’m honored to walk you down that aisle today.”

“I’m honored to be your daughter,” I said, my voice shaking.

He looked over my shoulder. “Is she ready?”

We turned to Karla, now standing beside Sierra, who had just entered quietly, her eyes full of proud tears.

Sierra came to me, taking my hands. “I’m so proud of you, Britt. And thank you—for loving Karla like your own. For loving Ace the way he deserves.”

“I love you,” I whispered.

She smiled. “I love you too. Now go—he’s waiting.”

The music began—soft strings building slowly. My stomach fluttered.

Tate winked. "It’s time."

The aisle was a path of white rose petals, the soft crunch under our feet as Karla and I walked together in perfect rhythm.

The entire glass dome had been transformed into a fairytale garden, open to the soft sky of late afternoon, drenched in golden light.

Ivy hung from the ceiling beams, and chandeliers floated above like enchanted stars.

Everyone stood. I caught glimpses—Jasper with Nathan on his lap, Astrid adjusting her little brother’s bow tie, Kyle already crying like a baby, and Colt babbling loudly in Corinne’s arms.

Then I saw him.

Aceson Rivera.

He looked like everything I had waited my whole life for. Black tux, no tie, a boutonnière matching my bouquet. His hair brushed back just the way I liked. But it was his eyes that undid me—wide, wet, wonderstruck.

He didn’t smile. He cried.

Tears streamed silently down his cheeks, and for a moment I forgot how to breathe.

Karla ran ahead, dropping petals as she skipped.

My father held my hand tighter. “You ready?”

I nodded.

“I’ll never stop walking beside you, Brittany. Even after this.”

I leaned into him slightly as we made our way forward.

When we reached the altar, Ace reached for me, trembling.

My father kissed my cheek and whispered, “Go. Be happy.”

Ace took both my hands, his grip tightening.

“Hey,” I whispered.

He laughed softly. “Hi, angel. You’re... you’re it. You’re everything. I’m gonna pass out."

The officiant smiled knowingly. “Friends and family... we are gathered today to witness the union of Aceson Rivera and Brittany Ashford.”

The words blurred. I could only feel him. His thumb brushing over my wrist, his breath hitching every time I looked up at him. I could hear my heartbeat in my ears.

"You may now say your vows."

Aceson turned to me, voice thick.

"I’ve loved you longer than I’ll ever admit out loud.

I loved you when I didn’t know how to name it, when I was scared of it, when I thought I didn’t deserve it.

And I love you now, freely, wildly, like I was made to hold your heart.

You’re my home, Brittany. I vow to protect you, to respect you, to never walk away—no matter what.

I vow to be your peace. I also vow to make up for all the disgusting things I've done to you"

I was sobbing. Not quiet sobs. Ugly, shoulder-shaking ones. And I didn’t care.

My turn.

"Aceson... you’ve seen me at my lowest. And you stayed.

You didn’t try to fix me—you held space for me to find myself.

And somehow, in that mess, I found you. I vow to never run from you.

I vow to be soft when life is hard. To be brave when you’re afraid.

To always remind you that no matter what comes—we are stronger together.

You’re not just the love of my life. You are my life and I forgive you. "

“By the power vested in me...”

“I now pronounce you husband and wife.”

I didn’t wait.

I grabbed him by the lapels and kissed him like he was air and I’d been underwater for too long. People cheered. Karla clapped and shouted, "Yay, Daddy!"

And just like that—I was his. He was mine.

The reception was a dream. A garden under the stars. Live violins. A champagne fountain. Celebrity chefs and three-tier cake decorated in edible crystals.

Karla fell asleep halfway through the speeches on my lap, holding my hand.

Jasper gave a toast about losing his best friend to his sister, and cried mid-sentence.

Corinne danced barefoot by the end of the night, holding Celic in one arm, glass of champagne in the other.

Sylvia caught the bouquet. Tate demanded a solo under the spotlight.

Allen even stopped by with Astrid for a dance or two.

It was a mess of love. A perfect, wonderful mess.

Later that night, just before we left, Aceson pulled me aside.

"We made it," he whispered, brushing my hair behind my ear. "You’re my wife."

“Say it again.”

“My wife. My Brittany. My miracle.”

I cupped his face, kissed his tears, and said, “Let’s go home, husband.”

And under the stars, with the world behind us and forever ahead, we did.