Chapter Text
I always thought I’d cry on my wedding day.
Not big, sobbing tears—just that misty kind you get during the vows, when everything feels impossibly full. But when I looked at myself in the mirror that morning, veil draped over my hair, I didn’t cry.
I didn’t feel much at all.
The ceremony was set at the old inn by the water, the same place where Susannah used to bring us for ice cream on the Fourth of July. Everything was perfect: the flowers, the salt-kissed breeze, the way the sun caught the ocean at exactly the right angle. Conrad stood at the end of the aisle, hair combed neatly for once, hands clasped in front of him like he was praying.
He looked scared. But not the run-away kind. More like he was bracing for something. He’d been doing that a lot lately—bracing. Even when we were happy.
Then I saw him.
Jeremiah stood a few rows back. Clean-cut in a navy suit, one hand on the shoulder of the girl beside him — Camille, I guessed. She was beautiful, warm, like she belonged in a picture frame. He was smiling as someone leaned over to speak to him. That wide, sunny smile I remembered like muscle memory.
But his eyes flicked to me for only a second, and the smile didn’t reach them.
My heart stuttered in my chest. He came.
He hadn’t RSVP’d. No call. No message. Just showed up. But that was so Jeremiah, wasn’t it?
He’d always been the one who came back, even when it hurt.
After the ceremony, we were swept into photos and handshakes and hugs from relatives I barely remembered. I saw Jeremiah again during cocktail hour, laughing with Taylor by the bar. Camille was by the oyster table, chatting with Steven like they were old friends. I didn’t know how long they’d been together. I didn’t know anything anymore.
Conrad approached him first. I watched from a distance.
“Didn’t think you’d actually come,” Conrad said, voice lower than usual, like he wasn’t sure how it would land.
Jeremiah smiled. Not sarcastic. Not cold. Just…gentle. “What, and miss your big day? I had to see it to believe it.”
Conrad let out a dry laugh. “Still a jerk.”
“You look good, man. Like a stressed out dad already, but good.”
Conrad ducked his head, almost smiling. Then something passed between them, too quiet for anyone else to catch. Maybe it was forgiveness. Maybe it was grief. Or maybe just time, doing what it always does — softening the sharp edges, even when it doesn’t fix the cracks.
They clapped each other on the back. It wasn’t awkward. Not exactly. But it wasn’t whole either.
Later, I found Jeremiah standing by the dunes alone, his jacket slung over his shoulder. The sun was lower now, turning everything that golden shade that makes you feel like you’re remembering something in real time.
“You clean up well,” I said.
He turned, smiling like it didn’t cost him anything. “You don’t look half bad yourself.”
There was a pause, not long, but just long enough to feel.
“Thanks for coming,” I added.
He nodded. “Camille wanted to. But… I think I did too.”
I didn’t know what to say. There was a heaviness under his voice—subtle. Most people wouldn’t catch it.
But I did.
“I’m glad you did,” I said quietly.
He looked out at the water, then back at me. “Weird seeing you in white. You were always more of a barefoot-and-cutoffs bride in my head.”
I laughed, startled by how real it sounded. “Guess I grew up.”
Jeremiah’s smile faltered just slightly. “Yeah. We all did.”
Something in my chest tightened. I thought of the boy who used to throw me over his shoulder into the pool, who stayed by my side when I got a cold, playing cards and licking popsicles. I thought of the boy who used to love me without flinching.
“I hope you’re happy, Belly,” he said then. And I believed he meant it.
But there was a flicker—something unreadable, something he buried so fast I almost missed it.
“I am,” I said. I meant it.
He nodded once, then pushed off the post and headed back toward the party.
And I stood there, in my white dress and someone else’s life, wondering what it meant that the boy who used to know me best could still fake a smile better than anyone.