Page 77 of Left of Forever

PART 3Forever

FOREVER

WREN

I’m laughing at myself in the full-length mirror, watching my reflection contort and struggle to reach the top button on the back of my dress, when a soft knock comes on my bedroom door.

“Oh, thank god,” I mutter. I hurry toward it, passing my favorite worn-in boots on the floor, tucked beneath the wall of windows looking out onto a drizzly day. My bouquet is sitting on a dressing table there, too. Sage designed something uniquely perfect, of course. Thorn-free stems of unripe marionberries ranging from green to pink to reddish purple sit between trailing eucalyptus, delicately spiky pieces of smoke bush (to represent Ellis, she’d said), coral nasturtiums, and dark cosmos… among a few others whose names I can’t remember. Despite being meticulously curated, it looks like something collected at random. Little pieces of life—familiar and new and yet to reach full bloom.

I’m assuming it’s Sage herself at the door now. Either her or my mom, who’ve both been wringing their hands ever since the forecast called for rain and all our plans for today had to shift.

“Perfect timing,” I say, unlocking and opening the door.

“That’s a first,” says Ellis, leaning onto an arm on the doorframe.

I breathe out a surprised laugh and quickly try to tuck myself behind the doorframe. My entire face heats at the sight of him in expertly tailored dress pants and suspenders cutting over a crisp white shirt. An undone tie dangles loosely around his neck. “Haven’t you heard it’s bad luck to see the bride?” I ask playfully.

His mouth curves gently, and he shakes his head. “Nah. You and I make our own luck, Byrd.” He pushes himself up straight. “Besides, I think our bad luck quota got met with the rain. Let me see you, baby.”

I open the door wider to let him in, hear the sound of him shutting it over my heart thumping hard in my ears. I turn my back to him and lift my hair off my neck.

“Can you do up the last button?”

I feel him step closer. His swallow is audible before his knuckles brush my skin to draw the clasp closed.

“Perfect,” he grits.

I smooth my hands down the dress. It’s ivory and simple, fitted over most of my shape, loose enough on the bottom so I can move my legs to dance. No lace or embellishments on it, just gauzy, transparent sleeves that start off at the shoulder and end at my wrists. No jewelry other than my mom’s teardrop pearls and my former ring, a little band of emeralds, because he really has always liked me in green. I left my hair down and wild and decided to skip the veil. We know exactly what we’re getting into, and I don’t want anything pulled over my eyes.

I turn to face him, and he puts a splayed hand to his chest. The bare emotion in his eyes is about to ruin my makeup.

“So perfect,” he says again, a choked whisper.

I take him in and have to swallow twice. “I don’t care what they say. I feel so lucky right now.” I chuckle, tears pooling in my eyes with just how much I mean it. “Need me to help with your tie?”

He looks down like he just remembered it was there. “Oh, yeah. Not sure where everyone else went.”

I knot his tie with shaky hands, the weight of his gaze chasing over me. He idly traces a fingertip down one of my sleeves. I press my palms into his firm chest and grin up at him, utterly punch-drunk in love. He tucks a piece of my hair behind an ear and goes on cataloging me with his eyes.

Just then, we hear a noise from outside and peek out of our bedroom window. Sage is down below, on the gravel walkway leading from our house to the stable. Fisher’s holding a clear umbrella above her while she sprinkles petals all around the path. We watch them kiss after he plucks a stray petal from her hair. In the open doorway to the stable, we spot Silas pacing side to side, clearly reciting something to himself.

We hear a car door shutting and scurry across our room to look through the windows on the opposite side, out front. Micah is there, greeting Venus and Athena and handing them their own umbrellas. They visibly coo over him and kiss his cheeks.

Martha and Walter pull in next, followed by Lennon Kirby, Bea Marshall and her mom, then Serena Lindhagen and her fiancé, Peter. Turns out, Ellis had spotted me talking with Peter at the Starhopper grand opening the New Year’s before last, and he’d assumed he was my date. These days, it’s easy to laugh and get a kick out of the things that were badly timed in our lives.

Ellis threads his fingers through mine and leads me backacross our room, where we watch the people we’re closest to all filter into our little stable.

“Thank god we kept it small, huh?” he says.

Another knock sounds on the door, and then Sam is opening it and stepping into our room. Ellis and I let out the same happy sigh at the sight of him.

When he came home for Christmas last winter, he’d been a little gaunt but seemed genuinely excited about school, inspired by everything he was learning so far. As far as we can tell, he’s happy and handling himself well in California. I’m secretly pleased that he keeps coming home over his breaks, though.

“Hey, there you are,” he says to Ellis with a smile. He passes him a navy jacket that matches his own, and I notice a few Band-Aids on his fingers. “Gram says you gotta get down there now. Almost time to start.”

“What happened to your fingers?” I ask.

Sage flutters in through the open doorway. “There you are! You gotta get down there!” she scolds Ellis. “Go, go!” She starts making a sweeping motion with her arms, and I note a bandaged finger on her hand, too.