And when he slides the ring onto my finger with trembling hands?
I know.
No matter what the world throws at us—we just proved we can survive it.
Epilogue: David
I came to Hammonton searching for something.
I didn’t know what it was at the time.
Peace, maybe.
Silence.
An escape from the noise.
Instead, I found my reason—I found her.
And now, as I dance beneath the full July moon with my wife of exactly one hour, I understand something I never did before—I wasn’t looking for quiet.
I was looking for home.
This place. This town. Her.
Right now, the backyard is glowing.
Our backyard.
The one we tore apart and rebuilt together over the last few months. The one she insisted needed more romance and fewer sharp edges.
Red and pink roses climb trellises along the fence line.
Fairy lights crisscross overhead like fallen stars.
The old brick patio is polished smooth, the grass trimmed perfect, lanterns flickering softly around the perimeter.
There are dozens of our friends scattered across the lawn.
Nathan laughing near the bar.
Adrianna is radiant and rests comfortably with their newborn in a cushioned chair like the queen she is.
Bella holding court near the dessert table, retelling the story of recording in NYC for the hundredth time.
Waitstaff glide through the crowd with trays of champagne and late-night sliders.
The speakers hum with music that isn’t mine for once—because tonight isn’t about DJ Mars.
Tonight is about David and Hilary. My wife.
She sways in my arms like she was built for this moment.
Butter yellow lace. Layers of sheer fabric that catch the moonlight and glow. Not traditional. Not white. Not anything out of a bridal magazine.
It’s so her.
Soft and sunny and quietly bold.