Three months later

When my parents got engaged, when Matt was two, my mom spent a year planning the wedding of her dreams. She and my dad scrimped and saved, back before they had the money to spend on their big day, and they made it work. My parents were young but they were determined. Mom was only twenty when she walked down the aisle with a homemade bouquet, in a dress she had gotten from a thrift store and altered herself when she ended up getting married two months after giving birth to me.

Storie and I don't take a year to plan. We don't need it. We don't want a big day with loads of people. Just us and our families. We discussed city hall, but I didn't want that. Storie didn't either, not really. She wanted something simple. So did I.

That's how we end up in her parents' backyard on a surprisingly bright day at the end of October, the sun warm and the sky clear. It's perfect. There's space for all of us, and this way her dad gets to be a part of it too. It's sentimental, I know, and obviously Lev Sovany doesn't live on in the tree that was planted with his ashes, but it's Storie's wedding day. Her dad can't walk her down the aisle, but just like the day I proposed, at least he's here.

He's over ten feet tall now, big enough for us to stand under the leaves when we exchange our vows. I'm standing in the upstairs hallway, looking through the small window that overlooks the backyard, with a perfect view of the oak tree as its leaves turn from green to yellow.

I can't believe today's the day. Today's the day I marry my soulmate. If Gray lets me. I'm slightly nervous about the fact that, true to his word, he got ordained just for this: he's officiating the wedding, and a small part of me is scared that he'll purposely do it wrong, or he'll get to the exchanging of the rings and he'll stop. Which, actually, would be alright seeing as we're not exchanging rings. Neither of us wear jewelry or want to start, so it seems an odd way to start married life.

"How're you feeling?"

I turn around to see Mom behind me, her eyes already wet and the ceremony hasn't even started yet.

"I'm feeling good," I say with a steady smile. Gray-related nerves aside, it's the truth. I am feeling good. I get to marry Storie Sovany today. How fucking lucky am I?

"I'm so happy for you," Mom says, her voice barely more than a whisper because I'm pretty sure she's about to burst into tears. I pull her into a hug and hold onto her tightly.

"Thanks, Mom. For everything. You're literally the best mom anyone could ask for."

She holds me even tighter and says, "Stop it, I just did my make-up. I can't ruin it already."

I laugh and let her go. There's no way she's making it through the morning without ruining her make-up, let alone the day. "Really, though, Mom, I mean it," I say. "I genuinely don't think I could've gotten through the last five years without you."

"Stop it, William, now you're just trying to make me cry."

I'm not, but I do anyway.

Nothing about Storie's and my relationship has been that traditional so far, and that extends to today. We didn't spend the night before our wedding apart: we shared a bed in her old room, and I've seen her dress several times since she bought it a couple weeks ago, when she got it back from the alterations place. I've seen her in it once, too, when she tried it on to make sure it fit. To say it's perfect is an understatement. She didn't have it on for long, and I can't wait to see it today. I'm glad that, unlike my mom, I'm not wearing make-up, because I know I'm going to cry.

This is a day I have dreamed about for so long. A thought I first entertained five years ago, before we broke up, when I realized how head over heels in love I was with her. It's a thought that cropped up countless times in the years before I saw her again at Winter Wonderland, when I tortured myself wondering what it would've been like if we'd gone the distance, if we'd gotten married.

Now I get to find out.

Mom and I head downstairs, where the rest of my family is hanging out waiting until eleven o'clock hits. It feels strange, that we're not racing to get somewhere. Everything is happening here, and so soon.

Scarily soon. It's ten thirty. In approximately half an hour, Storie will walk down the aisle we've created in her garden, by placing chairs either side of a six-foot gap, and I will break down when she becomes my wife.

George is eating god knows what, looking me up and down. "Are you nervous?" he asks.

"No," I say. It's a half truth. Yes, I'm nervous to stand in front of both of our families, for their eyes to be on us and only us as we declare our love. But there's no way I can be nervous about marrying Storie when it has been my dream for five years.

"Why not?"

"Because I love Storie. I can't wait for her to be my wife."

George purses his lips in thought. He has nothing to say to that, so he wanders off, and I take a deep breath. The minutes are simultaneously dragging and flying.

Navya, who has been in the living room with Storie and Storie's mom and my sisters, comes out with her daughter in her arms.

"Hi, Nav," I say, my eyes on her daughter. Amina – though everyone calls her Ami – is three months old now, and somehow a perfect mini-me of both of her parents.

"Hey, Liam. Looking good," she says with a tired smile as she adjusts Ami in her arms.

"Thank you. So are you." She really is. Motherhood suits her. She glows. "Everything okay in there?"

Her whole face lights up when she smiles. "You're a lucky, lucky man, Mr Alexander. She's so beautiful, I could cry. Okay, maybe I already did cry. I hope you weep when you see her."

Weep may be a stretch, but I'll cry. I know I will. I'm on the edge already.

Navya's phone buzzes and she juggles the baby as she tries to reach her pocket. I hold out my arms and ask, "Can I hold her?"

"It's my mom. One sec. Be my guest," she says, gladly handing her daughter to me as she answers the call. Storie and I have made the effort to see Gray and Navya as much as possible since they've become parents. Storie wants her niece to know her, wants to be part of her life, and I love to hold Ami. She always settles in my arms. I've always been kids, probably because Mom keeps popping them out.

"Hi, Ami," I say, swaying her from side to side. She smiles up at me, this gummy little grin that creases her eyes. "You're so precious. You don't know this yet, but you have the best parents in the world," I whisper. She reaches up and I give her my finger, and she wraps her little fist around it so tight. I've always known I want to have kids, but seeing Gray as a dad has really solidified that for me. I can't wait to have my own one of these.

"Excuse me," comes Gray's voice from behind me. "What are you communing with my daughter about?"

I turn around, a grin plastered on my face, because how can I do anything but smile on a day like today? "She was just telling me that she wants loads of cousins and at least three siblings. She's so lonely." I hold her up and she coos, halfway to her first laugh. I settle her against my chest, her head on my shoulder.

"Not sure Nav's quite ready for number two," Gray says, looking fondly off in the direction his wife walked, "but we'll get there." He checks the date on his watch. "Let's see. It's the 21st of October now. By Christmas, I expect to hear a pregnancy announcement if you guys want to catch up."

I laugh as I rock Ami. "Maybe not quite that soon," I say, but I can't wait to start a family with Storie.

"Hey. Liam."

I look up to see Kaylani, who I think is the only person I invited who I'm not related to, the only friend I have. "Hey, Lani. Thanks for coming."

"Dude, are you kidding? You think I'd miss my favorite elf marrying his second chance sweetheart? No way." She gives me a one-armed hug so as not to squash Ami. "Plus, you need me. Every man needs a friend at his wedding."

"Thank you," I say again. Storie and are haven't done the whole best man or maid of honor thing. It'll just be us up when we promise to be together forever.

The door to the living room opens and Jen comes out, followed by Storie, and my heart stops. She is ethereal. The picture of beauty and grace. The long sleeves of her dress are intricately beaded, so is the bodice around her chest, the skirt flowing to just above her ankles so the hem can't be ruined by our outdoor wedding.

"Storie..." I can't say anything else or I'll cry. Oh, god, I'm choking up already. Her hair is loose in waves that reach past her waist, half of it pinned off her face with little diamond pins.

"Hi," she says, beaming at me so wide her cheeks might break.

"You look phenomenal," I say when I get a grip and swallow down the swell of emotion.

"So do you," she says. No, no, absolutely not. I am just a guy in a suit with a nice pair of shoes. She ... she is a work of art.

"I can't wait to marry you," I say, gazing at her like she is the only person in the world.

"What are we waiting for?" Her voice is almost a whisper.

"Um," Gray says. "We're waiting for Liam to change his shirt." He turns me around and takes Ami from me. "Sorry, Liam. I can almost certainly promise I didn't tell her to spit up on you on your wedding day."

I look down. There's a trail of baby vomit on my shoulder. Storie's the first to laugh. Her mom is next, and then me. It's fine. I do have another shirt, after all.

"I'll go change," I say. "I don't want to smell of baby sick when I kiss my wife for the first time."

Five minutes later, I'm in a new shirt and we're at the altar. An archway Tad put together under the oak tree, covered in October roses. The ceremony passes in a blur. Mostly because my eyes are wet with unshed tears as I make it through my vows, as I hold Storie's steady hands while mine shake, as I promise to forever be by her side.

It is only when we promise to be together til death do us part that Storie starts to lose composure. That line is when her first tear falls, when we hear a hiccup from the audience and Stories and I glance at our friends and family and see her mom with her hand over her mouth, tears streaming down her cheeks. Storie grips my hands even tighter as Gray reads us through the ceremony.

He doesn't make any quips or glib remarks. For once, he is serious, even as he says, "I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride."

I cup Storie's face in my hands and I kiss her like it is the last kiss I will ever have, like I have to make this one count. Kaylani whoops. I hear a disgruntled groan from one of my brothers. And then Gray leans in and says, "On a scale of nine to thirty-two, how great was that?"

Storie laughs and pushes him away, and she throws her arms around me, one hand on my back and one in my hair, and I feel the tremble as she lets go of the emotions she's held in place until now.

We're married. I am her husband. She is my wife.

I don't know how long we stand up there holding each other. How many of the first minutes of our marriage are spent in an embrace. It could be enough. When we part, Storie's eyes are bright, her cheeks damp, her face perfect. I kiss each wet cheek and her nose and her lips. Lipstick is the only make-up she's wearing, the only thing she can bear to wear, and I bet it's all over my mouth now.

Our family flood the impromptu altar to hug and congratulate, and Kaylani takes me by the elbow, pulling me down to her level as she hands me a napkin and says, "You look like you just ate out the Kool-Aid Man."

I snort a laugh and dab at my mouth, but I honestly don't care. I just got married.

My dad pulls me into a hug – not the back-slapping kind, but a proper hug that has me tearing up all over again. Mom squeezes me tight. Each of my brothers offer their congratulations in their own way. But it's Storie I want to be with. I slip through the crowd of people we love, until my hand finds hers and she pulls me to her side.

Someone's playing music. The throng of people around my wife – mostly made up of my sisters and her family – disperses, and I hold her to me, my hands on her hips, our bodies pressed together. I spin her around under my arm and I pull her close, and our second kiss is more tender.

"I love you," I say. They're the simplest words, but I can't find any others that say it as well so easily. "I love you, I love you, I love you."

We sway together in the garden. It might as well be just her and me. Only us, sharing this moment. The first hour of our marriage, dancing in the garden as our mothers console each other and our brothers get to know each other, as my sisters take Jasper under their wing as though he's their little brother now. All the while, Storie and I hold each other and we sway to the music, and I promise my love, over and over and over.

*

Two hours later, once the emotions aren't riding quite so high and we've eaten, we go to the beach. We're like a procession through Five Oaks, almost thirty of us in total in a mix of suits and shirts and dresses and skirts. Storie and I are still in our wedding outfits. The weather is perfect to take pictures on the shore of Lake Erie, the afternoon lighting perfect.

Storie and I linger near the back of the pack, watching all the people we love most in the world walking ahead of us. Jasper has taken to Anna and Daria like a duck to water – he's walking between them, and they're each holding his hand, a little trio of adorable children.

Kris happens to know an incredible photographer who has been taking candid photos all day, and when we get to the beach, she directs us to the water.

"How precious are you about the dress?" she asks Storie.

"Not at all," she says, looking up at me. "I don't plan to need it again."

"Fantastic. Okay, shoes off. I want you two in the water."

We do as we're told. We stand ankle deep in the lake, holding hands, the sun pouring down on us as the photographer snaps away. There's no-one close enough to hear us when I say to Storie, "Can you believe this is real?"

"It hasn't sunk in yet," she says, shaking her head. "It's going to take a few days for it to hit." She drapes her arms around my waist, the water licking our feet. "I can't believe you're mine."

"I'm yours," I say. "For as long as you'll have me, I'm yours."

She reaches up on her tiptoes to kiss me, as a boat passes somewhere in the distance and creates a wave in the water that soaks the hem of her dress, halfway up the leg of my pants.

"I believe in you. I believe in us. I believe in love," Storie says "We made it, Liam. You can relax."

I didn't know I needed to until she gave me permission. My shoulders drop, my muscles unclenching. A sense of peace washes over me. A pure wave of happiness.

After our photos, we sit on a towel with Gray and Navya and watch the little kids playing. Even Sammy has joined in, the leader of a strange little pack.

"Please can I have a cuddle from my favorite niece?" Storie says. "I don't care if she spits up on my dress. It's half lake water at this point anyway."

"Those photos are going to come out incredibly," Gray says. Navya passes Ami to Storie and I try not to swoon even harder as I watch my wife cradle a baby.

She leans against me with a sigh and says, "I want one."

"Do you think Nav and Gray would notice if we just took this one?" I ask, but I must not whisper quietly enough because Gray fixes me with a hard stare.

"Liam," he says sternly. "I thought I warned you about misstepping and now, not even three hours after you marry my sister, you're plotting to kidnap my daughter?"

"In my defence," I say, "you weren't supposed to hear that."

Storie chuckles. "Don't worry, Gray, you can keep Ami. Liam and I will make our own." She tips her head back against my chest, looking up at me through thick lashes. "It's our wedding day, after all. We need to consummate our marriage."

*

there we have it! liam and storie are married at last!

(but don't worry, there are still 6 more chapters to come ;)