Shaking my head, I pushed off the wall, reaching for the doorknob, but her small fist entered my field of vision.
“You’ve got this,” she said.
Feeling buoyed by her faith, I tapped my fist to hers. “See you out there.”
Candace and Mercer had planned the ceremony to be short and sweet. There were no songs to be sung or readings from anyone’s cousin. They weren’t lighting a unity candle or pouring symbolic sand into a symbolic vase.
They’d wanted something simple to reflect their love. And I could appreciate that. But I had something I wanted to say.
“I always thought loving someone would be big and loud and chaotic,” I admitted, looking between Candace and Mercer, where they held hands before me.
There were about seventy-five people seated in rows on the mezzanine of the train station. It was quiet and intimate up here, overlooking the large ballroom where the reception would take place below. The warm glow of electric candles flickered all around, painting the couple in golden hues of happiness.
“I’ve never been able to see a way around it,” I explained. “Two people with two lives, two families, and two personalities—how could love not be a cataclysmic collision? There would be dreams to whittle down to make room. Downsizing for necessities and minimizing for efficiency. Somehow, to me, love had always meant two becoming one, but only after cutting yourself in half to balance the scales.
“But for Candace and Mercer, that’s not how love works. It’s opening a door and creating space—a safe space for love to grow and bloom, tochange. It’s seeing a need and fulfilling it without even being asked. It’s not making yourself smaller to fit in the shadow of someone else, but rather, stepping into the light to join them.
“I’ve seen the quiet sort of love and devotion that Candace and Mercer share. I’ve seen the acceptance of a family, welcoming a son. I’ve witnessed two personalities that complement one another. Teammates, not competitors. Instead of their love being a clash of waves against the shore, it’s a meeting of currents. Shifting and adjusting to create a new path together.”
Tears shimmered in Candace’s eyes as she and Mercer gazed at one another. I could hear a few sniffles on either side of the bride and groom, but I made myself focus solely on the couple before me, despite the urge to steal a glance at the maid of honor.
“Some of you may not know this,” I said, “but I tell stories for a living.”
That earned a few chuckles from the crowd.
“But I don’t know a writer or a director who could dream up a love like this. One where belonging is found in the mountains, on an apple orchard, with one another. Maybe love isn’t a feeling. Maybe it’s discovering a home in someone else.”
Smiling, I finally said, “Mark Mercer, do you take Candace Judd to be ...”
The rest of the vows—the ones we’d discussed and practiced—went smoothly. There were some awws from the crowd when Mercer got a little choked up. And then laughter when Brady passed him a tissue before using one to blow his own nose.
I watched the happy couple. Got to see the joy and reverence on their faces as they promised to love and encourage and fight for one another. And Joan was right. It was more than words on a page. And I felt honored to be a small part of it.
After announcing Candace and Mercer partners in life, everyone clapped, and the recessional music began.
Red-eyed and smiling, Brady hugged me hard on his way to collect Joan. I laughed into his shoulder. Joan bumped my fist one more time and then walked back up the aisle with her brother.
I smiled, watching Joan march off with determined, efficient strides, practically dragging Brady between the rows of onlookers. Her floor-length gown shifted with each determined step, the satiny fabric flowing over every graceful line of her body.
I took an unsteady inhale, noting the back of the dress. It draped very low, revealing most of Joan’s shoulders and back and stealing more of my breath. The deep, jewel-toned color combined with the warm candlelight on the mezzanine made her smooth skin glow golden and lovely. She looked so beautiful, and I ached to touch her.
Bonnie and Wenn came together before me, thankfully distracting me from staring after the maid of honor like a lovesick fool. Then I held out my arm and escorted a grinning Mac as we followed the others up the aisle.
When we got to the room where the wedding party would hang out until they were announced for the reception, Candace immediately threw her arms around me.
“I didn’t know you were going to say all that,” she cried. “Ian, thank you so much. That was the sweetest, most thoughtful speech. It was perfect.”
I patted her back gently, careful not to dislodge her veil or mess up her hair. “Thank you for letting me be a part of it.”
Mercer shook my hand. “Thank you, Ian.”
I nodded. “Congratulations to you both.”
The bride and groom stepped away as Nick and Amy arrived. The parents were obviously overjoyed, grinning ear to ear.
Joan slid next to me as we watched everyone hug and chat.
“So, how’d I do, Coach?” I asked quietly.
