Page 106 of Worth the Fall

And then it’s just us.

The officiant begins, but his words barely register. All I can see is Mia, her hands in mine, her eyes never leaving my face.

The vows come easily. Every word I speak feels like it’s been etched on my heart for years, just waiting for this moment to be said aloud.

"I promise to love you, to support you, to laugh with you, and to hold you through every high and low life throws our way," I say, my voice thick with emotion.

Her eyes glisten, and when it’s her turn, her voice wavers slightly, but the words come with conviction.

"I promise to choose you, every day, for the rest of my life. To build a life with you, to dream with you, to hold your hand through everything we face. You are my home, Miguel."

By the time she finishes, my throat is tight, and I know I’m not the only one. I hear a sniffle from the first row—probably Hector, though he’ll deny it later.

The officiant smiles warmly. "By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife. Miguel, you may kiss the bride."

I don’t hesitate.

Stepping closer, I cradle her face in my hands and kiss her with everything I have. The cheers and applause from our friends and family barely register as she leans into me, her arms wrapping around my neck.

When we pull back, her face is glowing, her smile brighter than the sun.

"You’re my wife," I whisper, the words both surreal and completely real at the same time.

"And you’re my husband," she replies, her voice soft but filled with wonder.

Hand in hand, we turn to face our guests, and the sound of their joy washes over us like a wave. This moment—this perfect, fleeting moment—is everything.

And it’s only the beginning.

The reception is a whirlwind of love, laughter, and more chaos than I ever expected.

It starts off elegantly enough. Mia and I glide into the room hand in hand, the applause from our friends and family washing over us like a warm wave. The decorations are perfect—soft whites and greens with twinkling lights strung across the ceiling—and the band sets the mood with a low, romantic melody.

But of course, this crowd doesn’t stay quiet for long.

The first laugh comes during the conga line. It’s Felicity’s idea, naturally, and she insists on being the leader, her tiny hands gesturing grandly as she commands the room. "Everyone! Follow me!" she shouts, grabbing Celine’s hand and dragging her to the front.

From there, it’s pandemonium. By the time they’ve looped around the room twice, nearly everyone is involved—Mia, my mom, her brothers Nate and Josh, and even Austin, who looks utterly baffled as Taylor drags him along.

Halfway through the third lap, Hector somehow manages to trip over his own feet, taking out a small cluster of unsuspecting dancers. Everyone erupts into laughter as he sprawls dramatically across the floor, clutching his chest. "I’ve been defeated by the conga gods!" he cries, earning applause as he gets back up with a sheepish grin.

Mia shakes her head, grinning at me. "Your friends are ridiculous."

"You married into this," I remind her, leaning in to kiss her cheek.

Later, after dinner, the band strikes up something upbeat, and the dance floor turns into a riot of energy. Felicity grabs Mia’s hand, dragging her to the center.

"Dance battle!" Felicity declares, pointing dramatically at Mia.

"Oh, it’s on," Mia replies, stepping forward like she’s preparing for war.

The two of them go back and forth, spinning and twirling with exaggerated flair as the crowd cheers them on. Felicity throws in a few wild spins that send her dress fanning out like a flower, while Mia counters with what can only be described as a mix between salsa and the Macarena.

By the end of it, they’re both laughing so hard they can barely stand. Felicity runs into Mia’s arms, declaring her the winner.

"No, you won," Mia says, planting a kiss on her forehead. "You’re the queen of the dance floor."

Felicity beams, throwing her arms around her neck.

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