Epilogue

One Year Later

Colin rapped his knuckles against the bridal suite's door.

"Just a second!"

A promised moment later, the door opened, a sliver of sunlight spilling out into the hall. His breath caught, trapped in his throat.

She was breathtaking.

Backlit with the early-afternoon sun, bathed in shades of burnished copper and rusty red, dark chocolate hair falling down to her shoulders, tiny pearl bobby pins pinning back her unruliest strands, Truly looked like the subject of a Renaissance painting, down to the halo of light behind her.

"You can't be here," she hissed, drawing the door shut, only her eyes, the tip of her cute-as-a-button nose, and the purse of her red lips visible. "It's bad luck."

"Come on," he implored. "It's a vow renewal, baby. Stan just wants to see Diane for a second."

"The same rules still apply." She looked past Colin to where her father stood, fussing with his little sapphire pocket square. Her smile softened and he felt his heart thud, extra hard. Enough that he pressed the heel of his hand against his chest, suddenly breathless. "Dad, you can't wait five more minutes?"

"I don't need to see her," Stan said. "I'd just like to give her a note." He withdrew a small, perfectly folded rectangle from the pocket of his pressed suit pants. "Pass it along, won't you?"

"You're a sap." She took the note from him and turned as someone hollered something unintelligible within the confines of the bedroom. Whatever it was made her roll her eyes. "We'll see you outside, okay?"

"Wait." Colin pressed his palm flat against the door, earning a raised brow. "I love you."

The bridge of her freckled nose scrunched with the smile that lit up her face and the whole goddamn room. "I love you, too. Now, shoo. Places. We'll be out in five."

"Thank you. Five." Stan saluted.

Truly shut the door and Colin immediately missed her face, pout and all.

"You heard the lady." Stan clapped him on the arm. "We've got places to be, kid."

Colin followed him down the hall, past the vestibule (the living room of Truly's parents' lake house), and through the back doors out onto the lawn where the two-dozen-some-odd attendees had congregated.

"What did your note say? If you don't mind me asking."

Stanley laughed. "There once was a man from Nantucket ..."

He groaned. "Come on. If you don't want to tell me—"

"I'm serious," Stan said, hand pressed over his heart. "If my ear was a c—"

"Okay!" He laughed. "Forget I asked."

"I'm pulling your leg, son," Stan said. "It was nothing special. Just a letter letting Diane know that loving her is a privilege I'll never take for granted and that even though marriage, like any worthwhile thing, takes work, it's a labor of love and the most rewarding work I've ever had the honor of doing."

Nothing special, his ass. "I bet she loved it."

Stan chuckled.

"What?"

"Oh, nothing. Only that I typed the letter in Comic Sans." Stan wiped his eyes. "Diane abhors Comic Sans. Hates it with a burning passion."

"Why would you do that?"

Stan smiled and sighed dreamily, staring at the back doors of the house where, through the gauzy curtains, Colin could just barely make out movement. "Because marriage is work, but it's also play." He turned and winked. "Got to keep the spark alive somehow, right?"

The back doors opened, curtains dancing in the breeze. Truly stepped out onto the grass, feet bare, the skirt of her pale blue sundress fluttering around her knees. The intro to "With So Little to Be Sure Of" from Anyone Can Whistle filled the air and Truly lifted her head, glancing up from the small bouquet of daffodils and honeysuckle in her hands. Her eyes landed on him at the end of the makeshift aisle, their gazes locking.

He couldn't blink, couldn't breathe, couldn't help but imagine that she was walking down this aisle to meet him.

Sunlight glinted off the delicate platinum band on Truly's finger, the radiant cut diamond throwing fiery sparkles against her skin.

One hundred fifty-four days until forever.

Their story?

Was just beginning.