Chapter 8
The wedding was small.
Perfect.
We got married on the porch of the cottage, right at sunset, in front of 20 of our closest friends and family.
Lila wore a simple white dress, her hair down, a crown of daisies in her hair.
I wore a navy blue suit, no tie, barefoot.
My dad walked me down the “aisle” — a path of rose petals through the yard.
Emma was my best man.
Lila’s sister was her maid of honor.
When Lila walked toward me, I cried.
Happy tears.
Tears of relief.
Tears of love.
When the officiant said I could kiss the bride, I picked her up and spun her around, making her laugh so hard she snort-laughed, which made everyone else laugh too.
The reception was in the yard, string lights strung between the trees, tables covered in white cloths and mason jars full of wildflowers.
We ate barbecue and potato salad and cake.
We danced to old country songs under the stars.
My mom danced with me first, crying the whole time, telling me how proud she was of me.
“How far you’ve come, baby. From that broken boy six months ago to this happy man. I always knew you’d find your way.”
I hugged her tight.
“Couldn’t have done it without you, Mom.”
Lila’s dad danced with her next, whispering in her ear, making her cry and laugh at the same time.
When it was time for our first dance, Lila rested her head on my chest, her arms around my neck.
“I love you so much, Austin Carter,” she whispered, using my new last name.
I smiled into her hair.
“I love you more, Mrs. Carter.”
It was the best night of my life.
Better than my first wedding.
Because this time, it was real.
No lies.
No secrets.
No hidden agendas.
Just two people who loved each other, surrounded by people who loved them back.
The next morning, we left for our honeymoon.
A week in a small cabin in the mountains, no phones, no internet, no one but us.
We hiked during the day.
Sat by the fire at night.
Made love slow and sweet, over and over, like we had all the time in the world.
When we got back, life got even better.
Lila found out she was pregnant three months later.
We were in the bathroom, her holding the positive test, both of us crying so hard we could barely breathe.
“We’re gonna be parents,” she whispered, smiling through her tears.
I kissed her, her stomach still flat, already so full of love for the tiny life growing inside her.
“We’re gonna be the best parents ever.”
We told our families at Thanksgiving.
Everyone screamed and cried and hugged us so tight we could barely breathe.
My mom already had a pile of baby clothes waiting, knitted with her own two hands.
Lila’s dad cried and hugged me, calling me “son” for the first time.
It was perfect.
Everything I’d ever wanted.
Everything I’d thought I’d lost forever.
Then, one cold Tuesday in December, the past came knocking.
I was in the workshop, sanding a dining table, when I heard a car pull up the driveway.
I looked out the window.
A beat-up old Honda Civic.
I knew that car.
My blood ran cold.
Brianna.
She got out, thin, tired, her hair pulled back in a messy bun, wearing a waitress uniform.
She walked up to the workshop door, hesitating.
I walked to the door, my hand on the restraining order papers I kept in my desk.
I opened it.
She took a step back, her hands up.
“I’m not here to cause trouble, Austin. I swear. I just… I need to talk to you. Five minutes. That’s all. Then I’ll go. Forever.”
I stared at her.
She looked broken.
Older than her years.
Nothing like the woman who’d lied to me for eight months.
“Five minutes,” I said, stepping aside. “That’s it.”
She walked in, looking around at the workshop, at the half-finished furniture, at the photo of Lila and me on our wedding day taped to my workbench.
Her eyes lingered on the photo.
“She’s beautiful,” she said, her voice soft. “You look happy.”
“I am.”
She nodded, tears filling her eyes.
“Good. You deserve it. More than anyone.”
She pulled an envelope out of her pocket and handed it to me.
I opened it.
A check.
For $32,400.
My breath caught.
“What is this?”
“The rest of the money,” she said, wiping a tear from her cheek. “Every last penny. Plus interest. I sold my car. Picked up extra shifts. Got a second job cleaning offices at night. It took me a year and a half, but I paid it all back. Every dollar.”
I stared at the check.
I’d stopped thinking about the money months ago.
“Why?”
She looked me in the eye, for the first time since the party.
“Because I owed you. Not just the money. I owed you an apology. A real one. I ruined your life. I threw away the best thing that ever happened to me for a man who never loved me. I’ve spent every day since hating myself for what I did. I’ll never be able to make it right. But paying you back? That’s a start.”
She paused, swallowing hard.
“I heard you got married. That you’re having a baby. I’m so happy for you, Austin. Truly. You deserve all of it. The wife. The baby. The happy life. I just… I wanted to say I’m sorry. One last time. And to tell you I’m leaving. Moving to Oregon tomorrow. To live with my aunt. Start over. I’ll never bother you again. You’ll never see me again. I promise.”
She turned to leave.
“Brianna?”
She stopped, her back to me.
“Thank you,” I said, holding up the check. “For paying it back. For apologizing. I forgive you.”
She froze.
Slowly, she turned around, tears streaming down her face.
“You… you forgive me?”
I nodded.
“I do. Not for you. For me. Holding onto the anger was only hurting me. I’m happy now. I have a good life. I don’t have room for hate anymore. I hope you find peace too, Brianna. I really do.”
She cried harder, covering her face.
“Thank you,” she sobbed. “Thank you so much.”
She walked out to her car, got in, and drove away.
I never saw her again.
I stood there, holding the check, feeling a weight lift off my shoulders I hadn’t even known was there.
It was really over.
All of it.
The anger.
The hate.
The pain.
May you like
Gone.
I was free.
