Page 41 of The Hang Up
She walks toward me slowly, like she’s never been in a rush a day in her life and has always known this moment would come.
Maybe she did.
Maybe we both did.
When she reaches me, I take her hand and feel her tremble, the same tremble in my chest, and I know we’re on the same page.
The officiant says words I barely hear. I nod when I’m supposed to. Lena smiles at me like I hung the stars.
Then it’s time for our vows.
We decided to write our own in secret—something just for us.
I take out the piece of paper from my pocket and unfold it with shaky fingers.
But I don’t read it.
I just speak.
“Lena,” I say, voice low and thick, “I’ve loved every version of you. The girl who gave up everything for the people she loved. The woman who found her way back to herself. The mother of our daughter. The owner of my heart.”
She’s already crying.
I swallow hard and keep going.
“I left once, and I’ve regretted it every day since. But I came back because I couldn’t imagine a future that didn’t have you in it. You’ve made me softer. Stronger. Whole. I promise to love you through every version of the future, through every chapter. And I promise never to let go again.”
A tear slips down her cheek as she reaches for my hand.
“Holden,” she begins, her voice shaking, “I always hoped you would come back. Even when I was mad and told myself I didn’t care anymore… I did. I loved you then. I love you more now. And I know I’ll love you most tomorrow.”
We exchange rings, hers a simple band beside the wooden one I carved all those years ago. I can see it on her finger, worn and treasured.
And then, finally—finally—we kiss.
I pull her in, hand at her jaw, and press my mouth to hers like I’ve waited a lifetime.
Because I have.
The reception is a blur of laughter and music and dancing under the stars. Wade gives a speech that makes me want to both hug him and punch him. Auden and Arlowe cry into their champagne.
And then, when the music fades and the lights begin to dim, Lena and I slip away.
We walk barefoot through the grass, back to our lake house, fingers tangled, her bouquet forgotten somewhere on the sweetheart table.
Inside, the house is quiet and warm.
She slips off her shoes and turns to me, eyes glowing.
“Married,” she whispers.
“Finally,” I say.
She slides into my arms, and we stand there, in the center of the living room, holding each other while the rest of the world falls away.
“I’ve never felt so loved,” she murmurs.
“I’ve never loved anything more.”
