Page 193

Right where I left her.

Watching me like she's not going anywhere.

And for the first time in a long time… I believe it.

I take the bench, a couple of the guys nudging me or wiggling brows as I pass. But I barely see them as I stare out into the field.

I take it all in—the same grass. Same dirt. Same white lines carved into a diamond I've known my whole life. But now it doesn't feel like somewhere I come to disappear.

It just feels like one piece of something bigger.

Something that doesn't even exist without my people.

Because this is where the world makes the most sense now—

With them.

With her.

Right where I'm supposed to be.

Epilogue - Lenny

Ten Weeks Later

Inever thought much about weddings—not the actual event, at least.

I never pictured the flowers I'd have, or if we'd hire a band or a DJ to play at the reception. I never imagined whether my dress would be a cream-colored mermaid or a bright white ball gown, or if I'd wear my hair pinned up or curled in soft waves around my face.

And when I did talk about it—whenever it came up with friends or coworkers—it was never really me I saw at all.

It was him—Jace standing at the end of the aisle, waiting for me to get to him.

Sometimes he was wearing a full black tux. Sometimes his suit was the perfect blue to match his eyes. Were there tears? Usually. Maybe mine, maybe his.

But there was always us.

When we were together in high school, when he was up at CMU. After the breakup. Through all the years we spent apart. Now—especially now. Jace was the only thing that ever stayed clear in an otherwise blurry fantasy.

Because I never thought much about weddings.

I just always thought about the boy I planned to marry.

"You still clean up pretty nicely," I say, tugging Jace toward me by the flaps of his charcoal jacket.

He drags his bottom lip between his teeth and smirks. "Some things really do never change, huh?"

I cock a brow. "Like how you had to watch a YouTube video to tie this thing?"

My hand slides down Jace's silk emerald green tie as his lips fall open in mock offense.

"Hey, this shit is har—"

I interrupt him by pressing my lips to his. "It looks perfect," I say, pulling back.

His eyes flutter open as the corners of his mouth tug upward. "So do you, baby."

I take a deep breath—the same way I've caught myself doing every time I remember this isn't fleeting. That the flurry of nerves I get anticipating the lasts—the kiss, the hug, the way he looks at me like he's looking at me now before I leave—have nothing to stick to anymore.