Page 46 of Someday Not Soon

We dance, we laugh, we cry, and we drink. But suddenly, exhaustion slams into me like a train wreck. After last night’s late hours and being on my feet all day, I’ve hit my limit.

I have no idea how Madi’s still going strong dancing in three-inch heels. The girl’s got an energy reserve I can’t even begin to fathom. The DJ announces that the newlyweds are about to make their exit, and everyone begins to line up outside the barn doors.

With sparklers in hand, we hold them high, watching as they crackle and flash, sending shimmering light dancing across everyone’s faces. Madi and Noah run underneath, ducking their heads and giggling as they make their way through the sparkling tunnel. At the end,they shout their thanks, and Noah opens the door of the vintage red pickup truck waiting for them.

Before leaving, Madi finds me at the end of the line, and gives me a giant squeeze. She’s radiating bliss, and I wonder how that might feel. To not be so damaged on the inside, that you can sparkle on the outside too.

She leans in. “Thank you for saving our wedding. And not that you need it, but you’ll always have my blessing to be with my brother.”

I give her a look, raising an eyebrow like she’s lost her mind. “I don’t think it’s like that this time.”

Tipping her chin toward Jude, who’s standing beside me chatting with their parents, she replies, “Well, maybe itshouldbe like that this time.”

Then Noah grabs her hand and whisks her into the truck, ready to start their new life together. Tonight they’ll head home, and by morning, they are off to the airport for their tropical honeymoon. It’s been an emotional day, watching this momentous event surrounded by family and friends.

I can admit I’m jealous—not of Madi specifically, but of the moment, the experience. My parents are gone, and today is a stark reminder of that. My father won’t be there to walk me down the aisle. There won’t be any photos of my mother zipping up my wedding dress.

I don’t have siblings. And now I also don’t have parents.

Besides my two closest friends, I’m completely alone. That awareness sits in my stomach like a heavy stone, weighing me down for the rest of the night.

They say grief comes in waves, but ‘waves’ feels too subtle. It’s more similar to a fucking tidal wave, crashing over me with an unyielding power, threatening to pull me under.

All I have to do is make eye contact with Jude, and he knows. Somehow he always knows.

“Ready to head out?” he asks, extending his hand out to me.

I lace my fingers through his. “So ready,” I reply.

Making one final lap around the venue, we say goodbye to the necessary people. Jude does most of the talking, being polite but getting us out of there quickly.

As we walk toward the exit, it feels like we’re sneaking away, even though the wedding has already ended.

We ride home mostly in silence, the low hum of the engine and the soft murmur of the radio filling the car. The headlights catch fleeting glimpses as we drive through the deserted country roads—tall grass, gravel paths, a family of deer in the distance. Each scene appears and vanishes before you can fully grasp it, little flashes of life all around you.

The gentle rocking of the bumpy roads lulls me to sleep, as the knot in my stomach loosens, into a peaceful calm. Somewhere in the haze of my dreams, I feel him drape his suit jacket over me, a makeshift blanket against the chill of the AC.

In the quiet of the car, half-asleep beside him, it hits me—how much he’s been a part of my life, even when he wasn’t there. His leaving haunted me, shaped the choices I made, and the walls I built to keep others out. But now,feeling the warmth of his jacket around me, I start to wonder if I’ve been wrong all along. Maybe he isn’t only a shadow in my past. Maybe he’s been the one constant that I had to compare good love to bad. And maybe, after all this time, he’s the reason I don’t feel so alone anymore.

I’m slowly beginning to believe that if I let him in, he’s here to stay.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Jude

Present

Turning off the engine,I glance at her curled into a ball, fast asleep, in my passenger seat. Her heels are kicked off and my jacket is tucked beneath her chin, her chest rising and falling as she peacefully sleeps.

That wedding nearly killed me with the constant thought:what if this could’ve been us?

We should have made it down the aisle. If I’d made different choices, I never would have let her go. And if I ever get the chance to win her back, I swear I’ll do everything in my power to keep her this time.

At some point near the end of the reception, I saw a wave of anxiety wash over her. I have no idea if it was grief, or me, or something else entirely. All I knew is that I needed to help her feel better by getting the hell out of there.

For a moment, I contemplate sleeping in the car for an hour or so to let her rest before waking her up. I’m worried that as soon as she’s awake, she’ll bolt and return to the dark and depressing state of her parents’ house.

I decide the next best course of action is to carry her inside the house and lie her in the guest room that she slept in last night.

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