Page 94 of The Wedding Wrecker

"Remember that boy’s weekend to Vegas?” I asked. “I flew out to get this one.”

“I can’t believe you did that…” she whispered.

I watched her move from photo to photo, reading each note. Her at the ski resort, covered in snow. Us dancing at Lily's wedding. Candid moments from our office, both of us caught up in work but stealing glances at each other.

"James..." Her voice was thick with emotion.

"Almost there."

The final photo was from just last week—Emma asleep on our couch, case files spread around her, wearing one of my sweaters. My note read: This is the moment I knew I couldn't wait any longer to ask you to marry me.

When she turned around, I was on one knee.

"Emma Marshall," I said, my voice shaking slightly. "You walked into my life and turned everything upside down. You made me question everything I thought I knew about love. About trust. About what's worth fighting for."

She was crying now, but smiling through the tears.

"You're the first person I want to tell when something good happens. The only person I want to talk to when things go wrong. You make me better, not because you try to fix me, but because you love me exactly as I am while making me want to be more."

"James..."

"Will you marry me? And maybe help me un-wreck a few more weddings along the way?"

She laughed through her tears. "Only if you promise to never actually wreck ours."

"Is that a yes?"

She pulled me to my feet, cupping my face in her hands. "Yes. A thousand times yes."

I slid the ring onto her finger with shaking hands, then kissed her like my life depended on it.

"I can't believe you did all this," she whispered.

"I had help. Even if Derek can't act casual to save his life."

She laughed, then kissed me again. "I love you.”

"I love you too." I pulled her close, breathing in the scent of her perfume.

Emma's response was cut off by the arrival of our friends and family. Lily launched herself at her sister while Marcus shook my hand. Maggie was already crying, clutching what looked suspiciously like wedding venue brochures. My parents stood awkwardly to the side, but they were here. It was a start.

Later, after toasts and celebrations, I found Emma at the edge of the terrace, looking out at the mountains.

"Happy?" I asked, wrapping my arms around her from behind.

She leaned back against my chest, holding up her hand to admire the ring. "More than I ever thought possible."

I smiled against her hair, thinking about how far we'd come. How neither of us was the same person who met in that castle in Ireland. We were better versions of ourselves—not because we'd fixed each other, but because we'd chosen to grow together.

And if you asked me, that was best kind of love story, because it was ours.

-The End

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