epilogue
‘EVERY LITTLE THING SHE DOES IS MAGIC” — THE POLICE
Tavey
It turns out, planning a dragon-themed wedding is a logistical challenge.
Not because of the dragons.
Those are easy.
It’s everything else.
Convincing a venue coordinator that “elegant but also vaguely medieval and possibly fire-adjacent” is a real aesthetic. Explaining to a florist that you want arrangements that look like they might be guarding treasure. Negotiating with a baker about scale patterns that aretasteful, notterrifying.
At one point, I had a full conversation about whether or not we could safely incorporate fog effects.
Miller drew the line there.
“Visibility is important,” he said.
“You’re stifling my vision.”
“I’m preserving your guests’ ability to walk.”
Rude.
Still.
We compromised.
Which is how we ended up with a wedding that is, objectively, a little over the top—but also… kind of perfect.
Deep jewel tones. Gold accents. Subtle dragon motifs woven into everything from the table settings to the embroidery on my dress. My hair is pinned back with delicate clips shaped like wings, and my bouquet looks like it might bite someone if provoked.
It’s a lot.
It’s very me.
And—
He didn’t try to tone it down.
Not once.
That thought settles in my chest as I stand just off to the side of the reception space, watching the room fill with people who somehow all agreed to attend a dragon-themed wedding and are now fully committing to it.
Rosa is already on her second plate of something chocolate and is aggressively live-commenting the entire event to her followers.
Max is pretending he’s not emotional, which is impressive considering he has teared up three separate times and we haven’t even cut the cake yet.
Holly catches my eye across the room and gives me a soft, knowing smile that saysI told you sowithout actually saying it.
And then?—
There.
Miller.
