Page 106 of Collins
I stare at him, at this man who somehow keeps giving me more than I ever knew how to ask for, and my chest aches, so full it almost hurts.
“This is incredible, Collins,” I whisper, my voice trembling under the weight of everything I feel. “I don’t even know what to say.”
His gaze softens, something unwavering and certain settling into it as he steps closer, closing whatever space still exists between us.
“You have the rest of your life to talk to me, John,” he whispers. “You don’t need to say anything right now.” His fingers brush against my cheek. “The only word I needed from your lips tonight…was yes.”
We fall back into each other like fate was always meant to pull us this way, inevitable and consuming. His arms wrap around me, and mine around him, and there is no space left for doubt or fear or anything that came before this moment.
There’s only us.
The soft glow of string lights flickering above, casting everything in gold. The quiet rhythm of the lake lapping against the rocks. The distant echo of the final chorus of our song drifting through the night.
And in his arms, I realize—this isn’t just where we began. It’s where we choose each other.
Again. And again.
Forever.
CHAPTER 47
johnnie
ONE YEAR LATER
“Mom, it’s fine,”I say as she puts down her phone for the tenth time in the last two minutes. She’s been calling and texting my dad nonstop. “I’m sure Dad took his medicine but if you’re really that concerned Bea can go check.”
Bea glares at me, rolling her eyes as she stands up. “Sure thing, Ann. You’re needed for pictures. I’ll go check on Mike.” She sticks her tongue out at me before disappearing down the hall, and I bite the inside of my cheeks, attempting not to laugh.
All of us girls are in my bedroom, the one I’ve been tangled up with Collins in every night for over a year now.
My parents made it into town from San Antonio, and I’m glad—truly. Even if my mother has a talent for getting under my skin, her presence somehow makes the day feel fuller, more real. Perfect.
The room is alive with chaos. Makeup scattered across every surface, curling irons still warm, clothing draped over chairs, shoes scattered. It’s a mess.
Lou crosses the room and reaches for the dress hanging on the back of the door. Carefully, she lifts it free and turns toward me. She looks breathtaking wrapped in a deep purple dress that clings in all the right places, her dark hair pinned up but spilling down in soft, deliberate tendrils around her face.
“I think it’s time,” she says, her voice warm with excitement. “Let’s get you into this baby.”
She holds it out, and my breath catches. White flowing lace cascades down, threaded with delicate ivory accents that catch the light just enough to shimmer.
The moment I saw it in that little local shop, I knew. I hadn’t needed to try on anything else.
It feels like it was made for me.
The long lace sleeves are the perfect whisper of autumn. And as I reach for it, my hands trembling just slightly, it suddenly all feels real.
We decided to get married in the place that means the most to us, our own lake house, in the backyard. An early November evening, just as the sun will be sinking low over the lake as a perfect backdrop.
I’ve worried myself sick over the weather, hoping, praying, that rain, snow, or bitter cold wouldn’t find a way to interfere. It’s chilly, yes, but we’ve set up plenty of heaters to take the edge off for our guests, not that there are many. We wanted something intimate, something that felt like us.
And somehow, despite all my fears, the sky holds steady, there’s no rain, no snow. In Ohio, it could’ve gone either way this time of year, but we got lucky.
A day as beautiful as this one feels meant to be.
A day just as beautiful as our relationship.
No, we haven’t always been perfect, but our story is my favorite and, to me, we’re perfection.
