16. Trevor

16

TREVOR

The courthouse is quieter than I expected. The sound of our shoes against the tiled floor echoes in the stillness. My palms are sweating. I rub them against my pant leg, trying to keep my nerves in check.

There’s no fanfare of a typical wedding. No walk down the aisle. Our only guests are Rowan, Oliver, and little Rose.

Iris stands across from me, looking perfect in a simple, lace dress that goes down to her knees, tight to her body. Not traditional. No veil or anything like that. Not to mention her hair is pastel pink with a few darker pink streaks.

Her hands rest in mine, casting a shadow of the slight swell of her belly. At sixteen weeks, she’s finally starting to show. I nearly had to have her before we even left the house this morning. She’s always been beautiful to me, but as she shows the world bit by bit she’s carrying my child, I have grown desperate for her.

This is it. No pomp, no crowd, no over-the-top celebration. Just us. It's exactly how she wanted it.

The judge has a kind face, but I barely hear him as he starts to speak.

My heartbeat is in my ears, drowning out everything else. He’s saying all the right things, beautiful things, important things. But my mind is all Iris.

My Iris .

Her eyes are soft on me, lips tugging into a small smile that I’ve only ever seen her share with me. My mouth goes dry.

"Do you, Trevor, take Iris to be your lawfully wedded wife?" the judge asks.

For a second, I forget to breathe.

Then I look at her, the woman I’ve loved longer than I even realized, standing here with me. The woman carrying my child, whose brilliance I have dedicated my life to.

This moment feels both ordinary and monumental at the same time.

“I do.” The words ring more permanent than I imagined. They’re sealing something that’s been a long time coming. Something I was supposed to have months ago had I not been such a rash idiot.

As if hearing my thoughts, Iris’s hands tighten on mine.

We’re here now. That matters. We’re here and more.

“Do you, Iris, take Trevor to be your lawfully wedded husband?”

Her smile brightens, and she says directly to me, “I do .”

I release the breath I was holding.

Now there’s no denying, no taking it back. We’re married.

It’s only a word, nothing compared to the life we’ve made and are creating together. We have a business, a home, a baby.

But knowing Iris is mine does more for me than I can say.

We go through the rest of the motions until the judge says I can kiss her.

I swallow her up in my embrace and kiss her. It’s more important than any document signed or any word said.

You’re mine. Forever .

Rowan, Oliver, and Rose cheer for us. It’s meek compared to the sound of a huge swarm of guests, yet feels thunderous and better than any other way we could have done this.

We walk out of the courthouse hand in hand with our friends.

“Now introducing, mister and missus McCoy!” Oliver announces through cupped hands onto the city streets.

I shake my head, smiling. “We haven’t decided on a last name, yet.”

Rowan bumps Iris on the arm. “Trying to get him to put your name before the hyphen?”

“Galletto-McCoy sounds better than McCoy-Galletto,” Oliver says. “Not to mention it’s alphabetical.”

I glance at Iris, though the glance turns into a sappy stare. “Whatever my wife wants.”

Iris, my wife , grins. “I like the sound of that, husband.”

I kiss the tip of her nose.

The five of us pile into a limo and head to the reception. Oliver and Rowan insisted they host one for us. We wanted the wedding to be small, just us and them. Then we could celebrate at family dinner on the weekend.

“You have to have a party!” Rowan exclaimed. “It would be unacceptable if you didn’t.”

We compromised that they could plan an all out bash for us as long as it’s hosted at the Hawthorn house. That way it could feel a bit more lowkey, somewhere familiar and loving.

From the moment the limo pulls up to the house, Iris and I know the last word to describe this party is going to be “lowkey”.

The house is bathed in a soft, golden glow, like something out of a fairy tale. String lights are draped across the trees, casting a delicate web of twinkling lights over the lawn.

Lanterns line the pathway, flickering like fireflies in the afternoon breeze as Rowan leads us down the stone pathway around the house rather than inside. “We got lucky with a warm day.”

The sprawling terrace, which normally feels expansive, has been transformed into an elegant outdoor lounge.

Velvet couches in rich tones are scattered beneath sheer draped canopies, creating intimate seating areas where guests sip champagne. Massive floral arrangements spill out from every corner, filling the air with their sweet and alluring scent.

It almost looks too perfect to be real.

The familiar faces of our friends blur into the background for a moment as we stand at the end of the garden path.

Iris’s fingers tighten around mine, eyes flicking to me. “It’s like a dream.”

“Better than that." I kiss the side of her head. Better than a dream because it’s all real life.

Ash emerges from the crowd with a glass of champagne, holding it high. “To the bride and groom!”

All the guests lift their glasses in a toast.

A surge of pride flows through me.

I pull Iris close and give her a kiss.

Everyone cheers in response.

Irish cups my cheek, kissing me back.

When we break apart, we’re smiling so hard I wouldn’t be surprised if our faces stick like this.

“This is too much, you guys,” Iris says to Rowan and Oliver.

“Not too much for our best friends.” Rowan kisses Iris on the cheek. “Congratulations.”

Oliver comes up to my shoulder.

I hold out my free hand to him. “Thanks, man.”

Oliver takes it and pulls me in for a half hug. “Anything, Trev. We’re brothers.”

I laugh to disguise the strangled sound that threatens to crop up.

I never had siblings. Don’t even have parents anymore. I’ve always considered the Hawthorns family, but the idea they might consider me family as well never occurred to me.

We are swarmed by all our friends.

I didn’t realize this many people would care to celebrate Iris and me. Almost my entire floor from the hedge fund is here, my old boss, the owner. Friends from college, from childhood. Hell, there’s at least a hundred and fifty people waiting for us.

And Iris’s friends are here. Coworkers. People she’s met through the gaming world.

Iris’s body jolts forward. “Oh my god, Ben?”

A man stands out from the crowd, the spitting image of my wife. Just the dude version. Without the pink hair.

“That’s my brother, Ben.” Iris’s face flushes with excitement.

“Go, go! I’ll be right behind you.” I release her hand.

Iris kisses me again, then rushes over to her brother. They engulf one another in a huge hug and, for a second, the rest of the world disappears.

I could watch Iris the rest of my life, like she’s my own personal form of entertainment. I want to worship her, make her feel seen and supported the rest of her days.

That’s love.

Ash approaches me, breaking me from my haze. “You’ve got a married glow about you.”

I blush. “Do I?”

Ash embraces me, further heightening the chaos of my emotions. “I’m so proud of you, Trevor.”

“Yeah?”

“Of course.” Ash clutches my shoulder and looks into my eyes. “You’re like a son to me, Trevor.”

“God, Ash–” I look down, trying to hold back the tears.

“Not only because you did things the other way around,” Ash says with a humored look at his milling family.

My family .

“I’ve gotten to watch you grow. Fall in love, figure out what you want from life. Now I get to watch you become a husband and a father, and perhaps I haven’t earned the privilege to feel proud of you, but–”

“No, you have, Ash. You absolutely have.”

Ash smiles, taking off his glasses and then pinching the bridge of his nose. “I’ve gotten soft in my old age.”

“You’re not old. Just vintage.” I elbow his side.

“Oh, thanks.” He rolls his eyes. “Tell my kids that, especially the little one.” Ash points to Ivy, who is running around in a fluffy dress with all the kids.

My chest puffs with pride.

Soon, I’m going to be watching my own kid running around with all the Hawthorns.

Something strikes me, a soft and resonant chord. “Ash, could I talk to you about something?”

“You want to talk business now?” Ash raises an eyebrow.

I shake my head. “Something personal. It’s important. I know the timing is…odd, but it has to do with Iris and me.”

The older man nods. “Let’s grab a drink and talk, then, hm?”

* * *

Everything is excessive and extravagant, something Iris and I would have never chosen for ourselves but are incredibly grateful for.

The food is decadent and rich, drinks flowing nonstop, and everyone is in the best spirits.

After my private talk with Ash, Iris and I gravitate toward one another again and don’t leave each other’s sides.

I meet her brother, thank him for taking care of her. We get hugs and kisses from all the kiddos and Hawthorns. And we dance. God, do we dance.

I keep Iris in my arms for what seems like hours. “Tired?”

“No! I could dance for the rest of my life!” She throws her head back, bathing her face and neck in glowing light.

As a slower song comes on, I slide my hand down to her waist, the slight bump of her belly filling my hand. “I like the way we did things.”

We sway, our bodies pressed against one another’s.

“You mean, love, near marriage, love, baby carriage, then actual marriage?”

My thumb slides back and forth over her belly. “Yeah. Exactly like that.”

Iris presses her hand over mine, looking into my eyes. “There’s no one I’d rather have a baby with.”

“Ris…”

“We’re going to give our baby the family we never had. They’re never going to be abandoned the way we were.”

“Never, baby.”

Iris rubs her fingers down the back of my neck. “So, Galletto-McCoy?”

I gnash on my lower lip. “You like that?”

She shrugs. “I don’t feel strongly either way, which feels wrong, considering it’s going to be my last name until the end of time.”

“I might have a different idea…”

“A different idea? Mononyms? Iris and Trevor, no last name! That would be iconic.” She gives me a big brin.

I laugh. “Would be iconic, but no.”

“Putting them together? Gallcoy? McEtto? Ooh, McGal isn’t bad!”

I shake my head. “I had something else in mind.”

“Tell me! I need to know.” She jumps onto her tiptoes.

My heart is beating faster than it did when I proposed to her.

I knew she was going to say yes then. Now, I’m worried she might laugh in my face at what I’m about to say.

I take stock of the party around us once more.

Ash and Rye are sitting at a table, Ivy crashing out on Ash’s lap. Rye’s head rests on her husband’s arm.

Jarred is dancing with Piper while Hayden dances with little Ronnie, June recording the scene on her phone.

Keifer, Dara, and their twins are close to having a food fight, smearing cake on each other’s noses.

And Oliver holds Rose up high to get a closer look at the fairy lights, Rowan hugging him from behind.

We fit right in. Not just because it’s our party.

Because we’re family.

I meet Iris’s gaze again. “What would you say to being Trevor and Iris Hawthorn?”

Her gray eyes widen. “Hawthorn? We’d take their name?”

“I checked in with Ash. We have his blessing. Now it’s just up to you if you feel–”

Iris swings her arms around my neck, clutching me close. She presses her face into my hair.

I realize after a few moments, she’s crying.

Tears of sadness? Anger? Joy?

“I’m sorry, baby. Please, don’t cry. If you don’t like it?—”

“I love it, Trevor. It’s perfect.”

I hold her close.

“The Hawthorns. We’ll be the Hawthorns too.”

“Exactly. It’s where we belong.”

Iris pauses, a few of her tears graze my cheek. “Our baby will be a Hawthorn.”

Fireworks go off in my chest. “As it should be.”