Page 64 of Yours, Now and Always
I nod.
He doesn’t touch me. Doesn’t say anything else. Just waits.
He knows how I felt about my parents not coming for the entire weekend, so he knows this isn’t just about them running late. It’s about every time they’ve chosen something or someone else instead of showing up for me.
My eyes burn. I blink hard, but that doesn’t get rid of my tears. That old ache still lives in me somewhere, the one that used to feel too big to name. But today, I don’t pretend it doesn’t hurt. Today, I say it out loud.
“I don’t know why I still get surprised.” My voice is raw. “You’d think by now I’d have learned not to expect more than they’ve ever given.” I swallow, but my voice cracks anyway. “And I hate that I’m crying because of it.”
A tear slips free.
Gage catches it with his thumb. “Let it out. I’ve got you.”
He wraps an arm around my waist and pulls me into his chest. No words. No fixes. Just silence and a steady hand running down my spine while I come back to myself.
When I finally pull back, he doesn’t mention the tears or fill the space with anything unnecessary. He just tucks a strand of hair behind my ear and gives me a look that says everything else.
I’m okay.
I’m always going to be okay.
Because even if my parents forget how to show up, he never will.
CHAPTER 22
AMELIA
The next time I tell my husband that we have to give our people a wedding, or anything at all for that matter, I want to be reminded of this moment. Right here. Trapped on the main floor of Blackbriar with my brothers, Marin, enough makeup for the entire state, too many strangers, and cramps that are trying to kill me.
The hair and makeup team (or the Glam Squad as Tim refers to them) is fully set up in the sitting room, which apparently now doubles as a production studio. At last count, I saw six makeup artists, five hair stylists, a dedicated brow technician, a light tech who seems to just want to follow me around to ensure I’m always “lit to perfection” (Tim’s words, not mine), rosewater mist stations, multiple ring lights, and a signature mimosa cart with fruit.
Oh, and there’s a full photography setup happening too. Ethan might be our photographer for the actual ceremony and reception, but Tim brought another team in to capture this part of the day.
The photographer and her assistant have stationed themselves near the window with enough gear to shoot a Vogue cover. Reflective umbrellas. Giant light diffusers. Cableseverywhere. And I’m pretty sure I just saw them roll in an actual spotlight, as if we’re performing a show here. I didn’t even ask.
It's loud. Kristen and Olivia just wandered in with champagne. Maddie turned on some music. There’s laughing, hugging, perfumes clashing.
And I’m trying not to stab anyone with a hairpin or any other sharp object I find. To be more accurate, it’s Tim I’m trying not to stab. Because Gage gave him an unlimited budget for this glam squad, and he took that as an invitation to go wild with things I would never in a million years have asked for.
This is my home. My wedding day. I could leave and find a quiet space.But then Tim would chase me down with a highlighter stick in one hand and a portable ring light in the other, yelling about how I’m disrespecting my undertones and threatening the visual legacy of this wedding.
“This isn’t just a ceremony, Amelia. It’s a curated experience. For your grandchildren who will want to see photos.”
That was what he said earlier. Before I told him I didn’t want lashes, the news I’ve just broken to him.
Colin’s trying to act neutral, which is suspicious.
Marin’s still blessing the space and chanting something about Venus.
I just want sugar.
“You’re not skipping lashes,” Tim declares, and you’d think by his tone and facial expression that I’d just suggested canceling the entire wedding. “Youneedlashes. Your vows will hit harder if you’re serving lash. Your wedding day is amoment. A bare lash will disrespect the moment.”
He holds a lash strip up. “This is not the day for subtlety, Amelia. This is the day forimpact. You only get one first look. Gage deserves to be emotionally assaulted by your face.”
Colin snorts.
Tim ignores him.
