Chapter Thirty-Two: The Ceremony
Writer's POV
Evan stood at the altar and tried to remember how to breathe.
The garden venue was perfectexactly as Fabiola had envisioned. White chairs arranged in neat rows, an archway covered in peonies and roses, string lights waiting to glow as the sun set. Two hundred guests in their finest, all watching him.
David stood beside him as best man, straightening Evan's tie for the third time.
"Relax," David murmured. "You look like you're about to pass out."
"I might," Evan admitted.
His hands were shaking. His heart hammered against his ribs. He couldn't remember ever feeling this nervous not at business meetings, not during the healing, not even when he'd proposed.
Because this was it.
The moment everything became real.
The moment Fabiola became his. Legally. Forever.
The string quartet began to play.
Bridesmaids walked down the aisle in their purple dresses. Sofia first, beaming. Amy next, giving Evan a look that clearly said don't fuck this up. Others followed.
Then the music changed.
The wedding march.
Everyone stood.
And Evan stopped breathing altogether.
Fabiola appeared at the end of the aisle on her father's arm.
And she was perfect.
The dress white lace and flowing tulle hugged her curves and made her look like something out of a dream. Her hair was up, soft curls framing her face. Her skin glowed. Her smile was radiant.
But it was her eyes that destroyed him.
Those dark brown eyes that had seen him at his worst and loved him anyway. That had watched him break and put himself back together. That looked at him now with such love, such certainty, such joy
Evan's vision blurred with tears.
David pressed a tissue into his hand.
Fabiola walked toward him, step by measured step, and Evan couldn't look away. Couldn't think. Couldn't do anything except see her.
His bride.
His wife.
When she reached the altar, Carlos kissed her cheek, whispered something in her ear, then placed her hand in Evan's.
The touch grounded him.
Warm. Real. Alive.
"Hi," Fabiola whispered, eyes sparkling.
"Hi." His voice cracked. "You're...you're.."
"I know." She smiled. "So are you."
They turned to face the officiant, hands linked, and Evan barely heard the opening words. Something about love and commitment and the journey they were beginning.
All he could focus on was Fabiola's hand in his. The way her thumb traced small circles on his palm. The way she smelled flowers and happiness and her.
"Evan?" The officiant's voice broke through. "Your vows?"
Right. Vows.
Evan turned to face Fabiola fully, took both her hands in his.
"Fabiola." Her name came out rough with emotion. "I've loved you since we were kids. You were the girl who brought me a dandelion and didn't run when I crushed it. The girl who sat next to me at Lucas's funeral and held me while I broke. The girl who refused to give up on me even when I gave up on myself."
Tears streamed down Fabiola's face.
"You saved me," Evan continued. "In every way a person can be saved. You brought light into my darkness. Warmth into my cold. Hope into my despair. And today, I promise to spend the rest of my life making you as happy as you've made me. I promise to love you when it's easy and when it's hard. When you're smiling and when you're crying. When we're young and when we're old." His voice broke. "I promise to choose you. Every single day. For the rest of my life."
Fabiola was openly sobbing now. Sofia handed her a tissue.
"Fabiola?" the officiant prompted gently. "Your vows?"
Fabiola took a shaky breath, squeezed Evan's hands.
"Evan Harlow, you were the strange boy everyone told me to avoid. And I looked at you and thought, 'He needs a friend.' Then I got to know you and thought, 'He needs someone to love him.' And then I fell in love with you and thought, 'I need him.'" She laughed through her tears. "You're complicated and intense and sometimes you drive me crazy. But you're also kind and thoughtful and you love me with everything you have. You see me really see me in a way no one else ever has."
Evan's thumb traced her knuckles.
"I promise to be your partner. Your best friend. Your safe place. I promise to stand by you through whatever comes. I promise to love you when you're strong and when you're vulnerable. When you're confident and when you're afraid." Her voice strengthened. "I choose you, Evan. Today and every day after. Forever."
"The rings?" the officiant asked.
David produced them. Simple gold bands that Fabiola had picked out.
Evan slid the ring onto Fabiola's finger with trembling hands.
She did the same for him, her smile brilliant despite the tears.
"By the power vested in me," the officiant said, "I now pronounce you husband and wife. Evan, you may kiss your bride."
Evan didn't wait.
He pulled Fabiola against him and kissed her like the world was ending and beginning all at once.
She kissed back just as fiercely, her hands sliding into his hair, her body pressed against his.
When they finally broke apart, Evan buried his face in her neck right there, in front of everyone and scented her.
Deep. Desperate. Like he'd been holding back all day and finally could breathe.
"Mine," he whispered against her skin, so quiet only she could hear. "Finally, officially mine."
"Yours," she whispered back. "Always yours."
The guests erupted in applause and cheers.
But Evan didn't hear them.
Didn't hear the music that started playing or the photographer snapping pictures or the guests standing to congratulate them.
All he heard was Fabiola's heartbeat against his chest.
All he felt was her warmth surrounding him.
All he knew was this: she was his wife.
His wife.
And nothing would ever take her from him.
Nothing.
He pulled back just enough to look at her his bride, his wife, his everything and smiled.
A real smile. Full of joy and love and hope for the future.
"Ready, Mrs. Harlow?" he asked, offering his arm.
"Ready, Mr. Harlow," she said, linking her arm through his.
And together, they walked back down the aisle.
Husband and wife.
Partners.
Forever.
The guests threw flower petals.
The photographer captured every moment.
The string quartet played triumphantly.
And Evan held Fabiola's hand tight and thought:
This is it. This is happiness. This is everything I've ever wanted.
And for that perfect moment, it was true.
Complete and total truth.
He was happy.
She was happy.
They were married.
And nothing not the past, not the darkness, not anything could touch them now.
Or so he believed.
As they reached the end of the aisle, Fabiola laughed, her face radiant.
And Evan laughed too, swept her into another kiss, and felt complete.
Whole.
Free.
While in the shadows of the garden, something cold watched.
Waited.
And angry.
Now she's his forever, it whispered.
Which means she's mine to take.
Soon.
Very soon.
But the bride and groom didn't hear it.
They were too busy being happy.
Too busy being in love.
Too busy believing they'd finally won.
And maybe they had.
For now.
For this perfect moment.
That would have to be enough.