Page 87 of These Jagged Edges

“Me either, what do you say we learn together Big Guy?”

I give her a nod that she returns with a smile that makes my heart speed up.

“So, when do you want to get married?”

I laugh. “Baby, you can’t ask me that. I’ll drag you to the courthouse right now if I could, but I have a feeling that’d cause an uproar in our family. Tell me Evie, when you envision our wedding what do you see?”

I stroke her hair as she ponders my question. I don’t care if she wants to get married at the flea market or the grocery store, makes no difference to me. I just need her.

“A small fall wedding at the lake,” she says, her voice soft. “Just as the leaves have started changing colors, and the air has that slight chill to it. You in a black tux, surrounded by all our family and friends.”

I can see it now, vivid in my mind. Her beauty, framed by the tall pine trees, the crystal-clear water reflecting the amber hues of the sky. It’s perfect. A place where nature’s peace and the love we share can blend seamlessly.

Evie once said she wants someone whose broken pieces line up with her own, but I’ve come to understand that it’s not the broken pieces that make that connection—it’s the jagged ones. The parts of yourself you think are too flawed, too sharp,to ever be loved. The parts you hide away, convinced no one will ever be able to handle them. Then you meet someone who does, and you realize it’s never about spending all your time obsessing over your own jagged edges. It’s about loving someone else’s.

Watching the person you love learn to love those jagged edges of themselves in the way you do adds a new layer to the love you share. It’s not about perfect alignment—it’s about embracing the imperfections. I didn’t choose the easy parts of Evie Taylor; I chose the roughest edges. Loving those first, helping her smooth them out, gave her the strength to rebuild. Not into someone perfect, but into something stronger, something whole.

And in the process, I became whole too.

Epilogue: Part One

Four Months Later

EVIE

“You ready Baby Girl?”Vic calls out.

“Ready or not it’s happening.”

I step out of the suite where I’d been getting ready and find the old sailor waiting to walk me down the aisle. Vic’s hand go to his mouth as his eyes glisten with unshed tears. He stands there, staring at me like I’ve always imagined dads looking at their daughters on their wedding day—the way I’ve seen in movies but never thought I’d experience myself.

A lump forms in my throat, and I have to fight back tears of my own. Vic’s the dad I’d prayed for as a little girl. He just came into my life later than I’d hoped, but in this moment, I couldn’t have asked for anyone better.

“Is the dress to much?”

The dress hugs my curves in a way that feels effortlessly classy, with a fitted silhouette, a deep V-neckline, and delicate, thin straps that add just the right touch of sophistication.

Textured floral appliqués cascade over the fabric, giving it a romantic, almost dreamlike feel. The moment I slipped it on, I knew—it was the one.

The sheer veil completes the look, adding an ethereal quality that makes me feel like I’m floating. And when I walked out of the dressing room, the expressions on everyone’s faces said it all. This dress isn’t just perfect—it’s made for me.

Maddox Wilder is going to swallow his damn tongue when he sees me coming down the aisle.

“No Evie, if anything it fails in comparison to you.”

My fingers drift to the scar on my chest, a habit I can’t seem to break. Vic notices, his eyes softening as a slow smile tugs at his lips.

“Damn, Baby Girl,” he says, shaking his head. “Look at you—from death’s doorstep to walking down the aisle.”

I grin, letting a playful wink slip. “What can I say? I like to live life from one extreme to the next.”

Vic grabs my bouquet and hands it to me before taking my arm in his. “Understatement of the fucking year, Baby Girl.”

The bouquet is a beautiful blend of wildflowers in varying shades of burgundy, green, and ivory, perfectly capturing the earthy, romantic vibe of the day. With everything going on—opening The Wild Whisk, Maddox selling his house, and just life in general—we had handed off most of the wedding planning to Maggie, something she was more than thrilled to take on. Truth be told, Maddox and I don’t really care about the details; all that matters to us is each other.

We decided the lodge by the lake was the perfect spot for our wedding. The trees have just begun to change, surrounding the lake with rich hues of red and orange, reflecting the season’s transformation. It feels like a symbol of everything we’ve gone through in the past year—both together and apart. A reminder of the changes, the growth, and the beauty that’s come from the challenges we’ve faced.

Not to mention, Maggie has truly outdone herself with thepreparations and decorating. She even roped Joe into helping, though I know she wouldn’t have missed it for the world, no matter how much she grumbled. Maggie had an itinerary for everyone, putting them to work the moment they arrived. I joked that she should consider wedding planning now that she was retired. Joe shot me a look that clearly said, "Shut up," knowing as well as I did that she was getting dragged along for the ride. But when Maggie’s face lit up at my suggestion, I couldn’t help but laugh—especially at the look of mock horror on Joe’s face.

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