Chapter 10 - THE REAL FOREVER WE ALMOST LOST
Three months later, the private cliffside estate in Malibu was bathed in the warm, golden glow of a Pacific sunset. There were no press reporters, no corporate board members, and no manipulative tycoons hiding in the shadows.
Just a handful of our closest friends, the sound of the ocean waves crashing gently against the rocks below, and an altar draped in white roses and eucalyptus leaves.
I stood in front of the full-length mirror in the bridal suite, smoothing down the soft, flowing fabric of my ivory lace dress. It wasn't the rigid, heavily beaded designer gown Victoria Hayes would have demanded; it was simple, elegant, and entirely mine.
The door clicked open, and Ethan walked in.
He was dressed in a tailored navy tuxedo, his dark curls slightly windblown from the coastal breeze. When he saw me standing by the window, he stopped dead in his tracks, his breath catching in his throat just as it had three months ago in the elevator of the Whitmore Grand.
“You take my breath away, Sarah,” he whispered, walking across the room and taking my hands in his. His palms were warm, steady, and completely real.
“You’ve said that before,” I smiled, resting my forehead against his chest.
“And I’ll say it every single day for the next hundred years,” he replied, kissing the top of my head.
Before we could linger any longer, the door opened a crack, and a tiny figure in a miniature tuxedo toddled into the room, clutching a velvet ring pillow in his sticky little hands.
Leo stopped, looked up at us with those unmistakable green eyes, and flashed a toothy grin.
“Dada!” Leo announced proudly, holding up the pillow.
Ethan laughed, dropping down onto one knee to scoop our son up into his arms, kissing his cheek before standing back up with Leo perched proudly on his hip.
“Ready, little man?” Ethan asked.
“Ready!” Leo babbled back, clapping his hands together.
Ten minutes later, the small string quartet began to play as we walked down the floral-lined aisle toward the ocean cliff. The guests—people who genuinely loved and supported us—rose to their feet, smiling through happy tears.
As we stood beneath the white floral arch, the minister began the ceremony, but my eyes never left Ethan’s face.
“Ethan,” the minister prompted gently.
Ethan slipped the simple platinum band onto my finger, his thumb gently stroking my knuckle.
“I take you, Sarah, to be my anchor, my home, and my forever,” Ethan said, his voice ringing clear and steady over the sound of the ocean waves. “I loved you yesterday, I loved you through every empty day we were forced apart, and I will love you for every second of all the tomorrows we have left.”
“And I take you, Ethan,” I replied, slipping the matching ring onto his finger, feeling the heavy, beautiful weight of our hard-won future settling into place, “to be my partner, my strength, and the father of our son. We lost two years to a lie, but we have a lifetime ahead to make up for every single second.”
“With the powers vested in me,” the minister smiled, “I now pronounce you husband and wife. Ethan, you may kiss your bride.”
Ethan pulled me into his arms, his lips meeting mine in a deep, tender, triumphant kiss that tasted of salt air, sweet victory, and an unbreakable love.
From the front row, Leo let out a loud, cheerful cheer, clapping his hands together with all his might.
May you like
The guests erupted into applause, the sun dipped below the horizon in a blaze of brilliant orange and pink, and as Ethan wrapped one arm around my waist and held our son with the other, I knew that every single tear, every single heartache, and every single twist of fate had only brought us exactly where we were always meant to be.
Home.
