Nick’s POV
My father.
He squeezed gently—firm, proud, grounding.
I glanced at him, blinking through the blur.
His eyes were crinkled with the biggest, softest smile I’d ever seen on his face. Not the business smile. Not the polite leader smile.
A father’s smile.
"Be ready, son," he murmured, voice low but full. "Wipe those tears... here cos your bride."
Sothing in my chest clenched hard—like I was eight years old again, wanting my father’s approval... and finally receiving it.
I nodded, swallowing a shaky breath as I quickly dabbed my eyes with the handkerchief Oliver shoved at . Not that it helped much—I probably still looked like a sentintal idiot.
And then my mom stepped forward on dad’s other side, elegant as ever, eyes shimring with amusent.
"Oh dear," she said loud enough that Liam snorted behind , "our groom cried more than our bride."
A ripple of laughter burst from the guests around us.
I pressed my lips together, trying—failing—desperately not to laugh. A stupid, choked sound escaped my throat before it turned into an actual laugh.
And the tears?
They stopped instantly.
Leave it to my mother to roast at my own wedding.
I shook my head, wiping the last wet streak from my cheek. "Really, Mom?" I whispered, still chuckling.
She winked. "Better now than during the vows."
Benjamin nodded in agreent, patting my back this ti. "Breathe. Stand tall. She deserves to see you smiling."
I inhaled deeply, steadying myself, my chest swelling with a rush of sothing fierce and warm.
Because now, finally, I was ready.
And when Georgia reached the end of the aisle, glowing like sunset incarnate, hope and love wrapped around her like a veil...
I was smiling.
For her.
Always for her.
Georgia reached us—radiant, breathtaking, glowing like the sunset behind us was created just for this mont.
And the very first thing she did?
She giggled.
A soft, adorable, traitorous giggle as she lifted her bouquet slightly and mouthed, ’Such a crybaby!’
I narrowed my eyes at her playfully, trying to fight the grin stretching across my face. God, she was cruel. And perfect. And mine.
Wendy ca up beside her, tears already slipping down her cheeks as she gently fixed the edge of Georgia’s veil. Then, without warning, she turned and pulled into a tight hug.
A motherly, warm, familiar hug that hit with more emotion than I expected.
"You grew up so well," she whispered, her voice trembling. "Your mother and father must be so proud. Thank you for choosing my girls."
I hugged her back, swallowing hard. "They chose ," I muttered, because it was true. Georgia and Katie saved long before I ever saved them.
Georgia hugged dad and mom as well—her arms wrapped around them both, their smiles soft and full of love. Dad whispered sothing that made her eyes shine; Mom kissed both her cheeks like she’d been her daughter all her life.
Then Wendy gently took Georgia’s hand... and placed it into mine.
Her palms were shaking, but her smile was steady.
"Even though I know you would," Wendy said, clearing her throat as if trying not to cry again, "please take care of my Georgia and Katie."
My grip on Georgia’s hand tightened.
"They are my family," Wendy continued, her voice stronger now, "and I trust that you will love them more than what they deserve."
"I will," I said instantly. No pause. No hesitation. The truth had never felt so easy.
But Wendy wasn’t done.
"And if you don’t..." she added mischievously, raising a brow, "Georgia’s parents and Katie’s parents will hunt you while you’re sleeping. And when you’re awake. And possibly even in the afterlife."
A burst of laughter erupted from everyone within earshot—Liam snorted, Oliver choked on air, mom covered her mouth, and dad actually laughed out loud.
I grinned at Wendy. "Noted. Terrified. Motivated."
Wendy chuckled, wiped her tears, and kissed Georgia’s cheek before stepping aside.
And when I finally turned to face Georgia fully...
She looked up at with that soft, crooked smile that had ruined from the very beginning.
We didn’t say anything.
We didn’t need to.
Our hands tightened together, our breaths synced in a quiet, trembling rhythm, and together—
We stepped forward, walking toward the wedding arch where the priest waited... toward the vows... toward the life we had fought through storms for...
Toward forever.
The priest welcod us with a warm, aged smile, his voice gentle yet carrying through the air with a kind of sacred calm.
"Dearly beloved," he began, hands lifted slightly as if blessing the very breeze that passed through the leaves above us, "we gather here today in the presence of family, friends, and God to witness and celebrate the union of Nicholas Knight and Georgia Jennifer Lewis in holy matrimony."
Georgia’s hand brushed mine—soft, warm, grounding. I curled my fingers around hers, needing that simple touch more than I expected.
The priest spoke about love being a promise, a choice made every single day. I listened, but only halfway. The other half of was entirely focused on the woman beside , the way the light touched her face, the way her chest rose and fell with quiet breaths.
"Marriage," the priest continued, "is the joining of two souls who choose to walk through life side by side. In joy and in sorrow. In certainty and in storms."
I felt those words hit straight in the chest because that was exactly what I wanted: every joy, every storm, every season, with her.
The priest paused, then looked between us.
"And now, we co to the mont that belongs only to the two of you. Nicholas and Georgia, it is ti for your vows."
A wave of emotion rippled through the crowd behind : sniffles, quiet laughter, soone trying to muffle another cry. I squeezed Georgia’s hand gently, and she looked up at with those eyes that always, always unraveled .
The priest stepped back.
I turned fully to face her.
This was it...
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