Page 41 of Resisting the Handsome Doctor
"You're spiraling," a voice says from the doorway. I look up to find Mrs. Silver standing there with a cup of coffee and a knowing smile. "I can see it on your face. Stop it."
"I'm not spiraling."
"You're absolutely spiraling. Drink this." She hands me the coffee made exactly how I like it, because Mrs. Silver has known me for years and pays attention. "And breathe. Everything is going to be perfect."
"What if something goes wrong?"
"Then we'll fix it. That's what people do." She sits down on the bed next to me. "Ivy, honey, you're marrying the love of your life. The man who moved his entire life back here for you. The fatherof your child. Do you really think a little chaos is going to ruin that?"
"No," I admit. "But what if I trip walking down the aisle? What if Emilia has a meltdown during the vows? What if—"
"What if you just enjoy your wedding day instead of catastrophizing?"
I take a sip of coffee. She's right. She's always right. "How did you get so wise?"
"Years of watching you worry about things that never happen." She pats my knee. "Now finish that coffee and let's get you into that dress. Your husband-to-be is downstairs driving his brother crazy."
The ceremony is in the backyard of our house. It’s small and intimate, just family and close friends. White chairs set up in rows, facing an arch that Levi and Owen built together (after three arguments and one trip to the hardware store to replace the wood Levi cut wrong).
I can see it from the upstairs window as I finish getting ready. People are starting to arrive. Granddad Jim with his poker buddies, some of Owen's colleagues from the practice, my coworkers from the library. Amanda flew in from Richmond and is currently talking animatedly with someone I don't recognize. The whole town isn't here, but enough of it is to make it feel like home.
"Ready?" Mrs. Silver asks, zipping up the back of my dress.
I look at myself in the mirror. The dress is simple—cream-colored lace, tea-length, with cap sleeves and a fitted bodice. My hair is down in soft waves, and I'm wearing the pearl earrings Owen gave me when Emilia was born.
I look like a bride.
I look like me.
"Ready," I say.
The ceremony is a blur.
I walk down the makeshift aisle on Granddad Jim's arm (because he insisted, and because Owen's parents aren't here and never will be, and Jim Harper has been more of a father to me than my own ever was.).
Owen is waiting at the altar in a navy suit, his glasses catching the late afternoon sun, and when he sees me, his whole face lights up.
Emilia is with Levi's girlfriend in the front row, mercifully quiet for the moment. She waves at me. This enthusiastic, full-arm wave that makes everyone laugh.
I barely hear the officiant. Barely register the words. All I can focus on is Owen, looking at me like I'm the most precious thing in the world. We say our vows. Traditional ones, because we both agreed that if we tried to write our own, we'd end up crying too hard to speak. Owen's voice shakes when he says "I do." Mine does too.
And then we're kissing, and everyone's cheering, and we're married.
Married.
Dr. and Mrs. Harper.
Owen and Ivy.
Finally, after fifteen years of waiting, we're exactly where we're supposed to be.
The reception is in the same backyard, transformed with string lights and tables and a playlist that Levi curated (which meansit's mostly 90s alternative rock and one slow song for our first dance).
Owen and I sway together under the lights, Emilia between us, her little hands gripping our fingers.
"This is perfect," I murmur against his chest.
"Yeah?" He kisses the top of my head. "No regrets about not having a big fancy wedding?"
