Page 78 of Yours, Now and Always
The door opens and Tim takes one tentative step in. When his gaze lands on me, he halts, looking suitably worried. “Gage.” He winces. “I’m aware mistakes were made. Mostly by me. And okay, she’s high. But on the plus side, her aura is sparkling.”
“She’s high. My mother’s talking to trees. And you’re standing in front of me trying to spin it as a vibe. If you valueyouraura, I suggest you start speaking with intention.”
He holds up his hands. “I fucked up. Massively. And I’m sorry about that.” He looks at Amelia, his expression more genuine than I’ve ever seen from him. “I’m sorry I messed up your wedding day. I wasn’t thinking. I should’ve put thecontainer in my room. I should’ve remembered that just because I can microdose my way through brunch doesn’t mean everyone else wants to sing with the angels before noon. This is completely on me.”
He takes a breath.
“And about the lashes. And the makeup. And the...whole aesthetic situation. I just—” he presses a hand to his chest dramatically “—wanted you to feel like a literal goddess. I wanted you to walk down that aisle looking so radiant it would blind everyone. I wanted Vogue to cry. I wanted your wedding photos to break Pinterest.”
His voice softens. “But I see how I’ve transferred my personal issues with perfection and performance onto your face. And that’s not fair. You are already iconic. I should have just supported you, not strong-armed you into a contour plan.”
He glances at me. “And Gage—respectfully—I’m still terrified of you. But I love your fiancée. She’s my sister, my ride or die, and the best human I know. So, if she wants glam, I’ll bring the glitter. And if she doesn’t, I’ll sit my ass down and hold her bouquet and shut the hell up.” He pauses. “Also, I’m deeply sorry about your mom.”
Then, he turns back to Amelia. “Let me fix this. No glam-ambushes. No shade. Just me loving you in whatever way you need.”
He presses both hands together as if he’s praying. “Though if permitted, I would like to present a respectful case for just a touch of makeup. Nothing wild. Nothing that hidesyou. Just enough to accentuate your natural beauty. The way you usually wear your makeup. Because right now, the weed’s making your decisions, and I don’t want you pulling out your wedding album in ten years and wishing you’d let me zhuzh your face a little.”
I look at Amelia. “You want me to leave you two alone?”
She nods. “Yes. You should go and get ready.”
“I’ll wait outside.”
“No.” She fists my shirt and yanks me down into a kiss. It’s fast, hot, and a little wild. “You need to go get ready.Now. I’m done waiting. We’re not dragging this out until four. I’m gonna be ready in half an hour, and then I’m coming to find you.”
Her eyes flash with heat and urgency. “Don’t hide.”
I shake my head, amused. “You think I’d ever hide from you?” I kiss her forehead and then level Tim with a look. “Make this right.”
“I will,” he promises.
The last thing I hear as the door closes behind me is Tim saying, “Okay, so here’s the thing about the cheekbones...”
CHAPTER 26
AMELIA
Itold Gage I’d be ready in half an hour. I was wrong. It took me exactly sixty-two minutes. Because even though Tim promised not to push me into anything, he still spent twenty minutes telling me why “a little highlighter isn’t makeup, Amelia” and “blush is just bringing warmth back to your face after the weed stole it.”
I caved. Obviously. My brother is relentless, and I’m still stoned.
Notstonedstoned. But enough that when he started explaining the “geometry of facial structure” I nodded like it made perfect sense and let him direct the makeup artist. At one point, I asked if my pores could hear me, and Tim just stared at me for a full ten seconds before saying, “Babe, no.”
All of this means Gage has been waiting for me for thirty-two minutes.
So, now I’m here, standing at the back door of the house. Ready. Heart pounding and hands shaking. About to step into whatever obsessive and sacred moment Gage has planned for our first look. And tryingvery hardnot to cry until at least after I’ve seen his face.
I take three deep breaths. In through my nose, out through my mouth. The air tastes like...air. Huh. That feels profound. Everything feels profound. Maybe I really am still high.
I open the door and?—
Oh my god.
I freeze.
Because there’s apath.
A wooden walkway laid across the grass that absolutely, definitely wasnothere earlier. It stretches from the back of the house toward the garden where our wedding will take place. And it’s lined with what has to be hundreds of candles in tall glass hurricanes, their flames flickering with a soft glow in the late afternoon light.
