His voice trembled.
“I thought I was watching the saddest day of her life.”
He looked at me.
“I was wrong.”
My mother took his hand.
“That day showed us who left. More importantly, it showed us who stayed.”
Owen squeezed my fingers.
My father raised his glass higher.
“To Emily and Owen. To second opinions. To strange beginnings. To support people who become family. And to the fact that my daughter still owes me for the open bar.”
Everyone laughed.
I stood and shouted, “Put it on my inheritance tab.”
He pointed at me.
“You’re not getting one. We spent it on flowers twice.”
The whole room erupted.
Later, Owen and I danced alone after most guests had gone.
The staff cleared tables around us.
My shoes were off.
My feet hurt.
My body was older, scarred, and alive.
Owen’s hair had gray at the temples now.
He looked better for it.
Annoyingly.
“Do you ever think about that first email?” I asked.
He smiled.
“All the time.”
“You were very bossy.”
“You were trying to hire a groom online.”
“I was vulnerable.”
“You were unhinged.”
“I had cancer.”
“That was not the unhinged part.”
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