The rest of the afternoon passes in a blur of wedding pictures and being shuttled from one location in St. Anthony to another. Those moments I got with Gwen in the church before the ceremony feel too far away by the time we arrive at the dinner and reception. I catch my next glimpse of her while we're all standing at the entrance to the hall waiting to have our presence announced.

She's seated at a table with my friend from high school, Thatcher, who rents my house next to my parents. Whatever they're talking about, they both seem fully engaged, and it's the first time I've felt the pinch of jealousy since we got together. Gwen throws her head back on a laugh, clutching her chest as though she's never heard anything funnier. Thatcher gazes at her, a grin on his face, clearly pleased with himself and perhaps a bit smitten. Can't blame him. As I've discovered, it's impossible to resist Gwen's charm.

It's one thing to see other people gazing at her like that when I'm seated beside her, but it's another to be over here, unable to slide my hand along her back, make it clear that whoever it is doesn't have a chance. She's mine. If we do long distance, that'll be the reality more often than not. Gwen, out in the world charming people, and me across the ocean praying she doesn't become equally charmed by someone else.

Kellen, Ang's Master of Ceremony, gets on the mic, and a cheer goes through the hall. Gwen twists in her seat, and when we make eye contact, the hint of jealousy evaporates. The familiar light in her brown eyes helps to ease the tension across my shoulders. Nothing has changed. For now, she's still mine.

When I'm announced, I enter and wave to the crowd before heading to the table where Gwen is seated. She's already standing from all the other introductions, and she frames my face before giving me a quick kiss.

"I missed you," she murmurs against my ear before sliding her hand into mine.

I squeeze her hand in return, but I don't say it back, even if every fiber in my being feels it. What I should do tonight still isn't clear. Let her go or propose long distance. In some ways, long distance is just ripping the Band-Aid off at a glacial pace that'll probably make us both miserable. Our lives are on different paths.

After Ang and Adam are introduced, everyone takes their seats. I greet the rest of the people at the table, and when I go to introduce Gwen to everyone, Thatcher waves me off.

"Gwen's easy to talk to. She's met us all. Has our life stories tucked in her back pocket," he says.

"In this dress?" Gwen scoffs. "Stuffed all those stories in my purse. Small towns are filled with so many good, interconnecting stories. A treasure trove." She grins at me.

"There is definitely always something to talk about in St. Anthony," I agree while I slide my hand along her thigh.

She links her hand with mine and leans into me.

For the rest of the meal, one of us is touching the other, as though we're both reassuring ourselves that we're still here, tomorrow hasn't come yet.

Once the tables are cleared, and they start the first dances, Gwen nudges me on the side of the dancefloor.

"Are you Ang's dance partner too?" she asks.

"No, she gave that one to my dad." I tip my head toward where he's stationed near the bar. "Assuming he can be dragged away from his favorite spot."

Adam and Ang take to the dance floor, and they glide around for the first minute before everyone else is invited to join. "Shall we?" I hold my hand out for Gwen to grasp it, and when her hand slides into mine, I draw her into my embrace.

She curls into me in the way that I love, and I breathe her in, try not to let the flickers of sadness overwhelm my contentment.

"Blake Robinson can dance," she murmurs, and her lips skim my neck. "I've been missing out."

"Me too," I say. "I could have had you this close to me much earlier."

"All those things we could have had."

Part of me wonders if that'll be our catch-phrase. Might have been. Could have been. Should have been. But wasn't.

"I'm going to hold this trip in my heart forever," she whispers. "I wish I could..." Her voice is thick with tears. "I wish I could be like this with you forever."

When I draw back to look at her, a tear streaks down her face, and I scoop it up with my thumb before feathering her cheek with a kiss in the same place. And then I stop pretending to dance so I can kiss away her sadness, even if it won't touch mine.

"I was so lucky you took that last seat on the bus," I say when we break apart, and that causes her to release a muffled laugh against my chest.

"I think we both know the word "lucky" wasn't the first word you thought of during those two weeks." Her smile is watery, and she runs her fingers under her eyes. "Did I mess up my makeup?"

"You look gorgeous," I say, and I kiss her temple before leading her off the dance floor.

The father-daughter dance is next, and so while I have the urge to talk to Gwen, to ease her sadness, even if I don't know quite what I'm going to say, I also don't want to leave the hall.

When Kellen calls my dad to the dancefloor, he almost falls off the stool. Ang doesn't look in my direction, but I catch Sam's gaze from across the way. Adam is beside him, and he looks as worried as I feel. This moment was important to Ang. My parents promised they wouldn't drink, and while I was sure they'd break that oath, Ang's misplaced faith was unwavering.

My father makes it to the dance floor, and disaster appears to have been averted when he scoops Ang up into his arms, slurs something in her ear, and they begin to sway with the music.

"It's really hard to watch someone break their promise," Gwen says from beside me.

"Even harder to be the one with that promise in pieces at their feet."

She wraps her arms around me and squeezes, and we watch Ang and my dad for another minute before my dad loses his footing. He falls to his knees on the dancefloor, bracing his hands on the ground. Ang tries to help him up, and he pushes her away, hard enough that she stumbles back.

I extract myself from Gwen and rush towards the dancefloor, but Jamie and Sam are already there. Adam has Ang, and Jamie and Sam are standing over Dad like bouncers, not offering to help him up, but making sure he doesn't do any more damage.

Our mother weaves through the crowd, and when I try to head her off, she narrows her eyes at me.

"I ain't done nothing," she says. "Let me be."

"You've been drinking. No one needs another person with poor judgement over there."

"Like you're the authority on that when you've been gone half your life."

"This is why I've been gone half my life," I say.

Sam appears at my shoulder. "We're getting Aunt Cathy to take Mom and Dad home. Uncle Bob and Uncle Larry are getting Dad to the front entrance."

"I'm not going." Our mother crosses her arms.

Jamie's shoulder brushes mine on the other side. "Yeah, you are, Mom. Ang doesn't want either of you here. You broke your promise."

"I broke nothing. I was sober for the wedding," my mother says.

"Blake, do you think that's what Angie meant when she asked them to be sober for today?" Sam asks.

"No," I say, surprised he's asked. "I think she meant the whole day."

"What about you, Jamie? Do you think Angie only meant the wedding?" Sam asks again.

"I do not," Jamie confirms.

"You're outnumbered, Mom. If we have to zip tie you and carry you out like a sack, that's what we'll do. But it's Angie's wedding. She says, 'go' and you go." Sam's voice is firm with conviction.

Mom's jaw tightens, but she turns on her heel and almost topples over. None of us reach out to stabilize her. She weaves towards the front entrance, and the three of us stand together and watch as my parents fall into the back of Aunt Cathy's SUV.

"I'll get them home safe," she calls to us with a wave.

"Blake," someone calls from inside the hall before I have a chance to really register what just happened. "My grandma Hilda has this weird rash. Can you come take a look?"

I run a hand down my face, and both Sam and Jamie chuckle and nudge each other.

"Wonder where that weird rash is," Jamie teases. "The life of a doctor is so glamourous."

"More than you know," I say. "Is this a wedding or an ER clinic?"

"My bet is on the ER clinic by the end of the night," Sam says. "Lots of old people in there who love to discuss their various ailments."

And it turns out, he's not wrong. While I'd been busy most of the day with Ang and my wedding commitments, it seemed my extended family had been amassing their aches and pains to discuss with their family doctor... Me.

Every once in a while I catch a glimpse of Gwen, but it feels like hours before I manage to work my way over to her again.

Kellen gets on the mic to announce Adam and Ang are leaving the hall, and everyone lines up to cheer them out. As soon as they're gone, I grab Gwen's hand and make a beeline for the exit.

"You done playing doctor for the night?" Gwen asks with a laugh.

"I'll take a look at anything you want me to examine when we get back to the hotel. But I'm done looking at the dry, patchy skin of about five hundred extended relatives."

"There aren't even five hundred people here." Gwen laughs again.

"That's true, but I also had FaceTime calls with another three hundred to check their rashes or bumps or strange growths."

Gwen gets the giggles, and the sound of her laughter is a shot of adrenaline to my heart.

She catches her breath just as Aunt Cathy pulls up to be our taxi driver. After we're settled in the backseat, Gwen says, "I met Sam and Jamie. I don't know what they're like when they've been drinking, but their sober versions were pretty great... They reminded me a lot of you."

It's surprising and not. Standing shoulder to shoulder with my brothers earlier in the evening reminded me of when that used to be the norm rather than the exception. As hard as I've tried to deny it, I've missed that sense of belonging, even if I've had it with Ang, and I have a version of it with Gwen too. The bond between brothers is different.

"Ang has arranged for Sam and I to talk tomorrow," I admit. "Today was...," I search for the right words, but when I can't find them, I settle on, "better than expected."

"I'm glad." Gwen runs her hand along my leg. "I know you were really conflicted about coming home, so I hope something good comes out of it."

Her gentle acceptance, without any hint of trying to convince me to let go of the past, tips the scales in my mind that have been weighing back and forth all night.

I'd rather have the Band-aid come off one millimeter at a time than rip it off. Maybe she'll have some great solution to the long-distance conundrum that I haven't thought of. As the SUV glides through the streets, I steel myself to bring it up at the hotel.

Neither of us wants this to end yet, and so maybe it doesn't have to.

We're creeping closer to the end. If you have ideas of any bonus content you'd like to see, please drop it here. I'll ask again at the very end, but it's good for me to get ideas percolating early.

Also, does anyone have any song recs? Sad, happy, whatever — what are you currently listening to? I need to freshen up my playlists.

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