The song ends, but we keep swaying until the DJ's voice cuts through our bubble. "All right, gentlemen, it's time for the garter toss!"
Ash is already in the center of the dance floor, looking slightly embarrassed as Emma sits in a chair beside him, hiking up her wedding dress with a mischievous grin. The single men gather behind Ash, and I give Gunner a gentle push toward the group.
"Go on, one-armed wonder. Show them how it's done."
He chuckles and joins the crowd, though he stays toward the back. When Ash flings the blue garter over his shoulder, it sails directly toward Gunner. Without thinking, he reaches up with his good hand and snatches it out of the air.
The crowd erupts in cheers and wolf whistles. Gunner holds up the garter with a shit-eating grin, his eyes finding mine across the room.
"Ladies!" the DJ calls. "Time for the bouquet toss!"
My stomach flutters as I reluctantly join the group of single women. Emma winks at me as she turns around, raising the bouquet high.
"Ready?" she calls over her shoulder.
The bouquet arcs through the air in a perfect spiral, and instinct takes over. I reach up and catch it cleanly, the silk roses and baby's breath soft against my palms.
The women around me cheer and pat my back, but all I can see is Gunner pushing through the crowd toward me, the garter still dangling from his finger.
When he reaches me, he cups my face with his free hand, his thumb stroking across my cheekbone.
"Well, would you look at that," he says, his voice low and intimate despite the crowd around us. "Maybe this is a good luck charm. Maybe that means we're next."
My breath catches. "Next for what, exactly?"
His smile is slow and devastating. "Everything, sweetheart. The whole damn fairy tale."
Before I can respond, he kisses me right there in front of everyone, and the crowd goes wild. But all I can hear is the thundering of my heart and the whispered promise of forever in the way his lips move against mine.
When we finally break apart, both of us breathless, he rests his forehead against mine.
"Take me home, Gunner," I whisper. "Take me to our home."
His eyes darken with heat and promise. "With pleasure, future fire wife."
The nickname sends a shiver of anticipation through me, and I realize that some love stories don't just end with happily ever after—they begin with it.
EPILOGUE TWO
TRISH
Weddings used to be my favorite, until I got divorced. Now I'm looking at them through the gaze of a woman who's had her heart broken by the one man she vowed to love.
"Wanna dance?"
I look up, seeing Mark standing over me. His dress uniform is crisp, the brass buttons catching the string lights hung around the room. He's cleaned up nice—better than nice, actually. The kind of handsome that makes my chest tighten with things I don't want to feel.
"I don't really dance anymore," I say, taking a sip of champagne that's gone flat.
"Come on, Trish." His voice is gentle, coaxing. "It's just a dance. Emma will never forgive us if we don't celebrate her properly."
I glance across the makeshift dance floor where Emma is spinning in Ash's arms, her wedding dress flowing around her like something out of a fairy tale. She looks so happy it almost hurts to watch. When did I become so bitter?
Mark extends his hand, palm up, waiting. His fingers are long, calloused from years of fighting fires and fixing things. Safe hands. Steady hands.
Against my better judgment, I place my hand in his.
The moment he leads me onto the dance floor, his other hand settles at the small of my back, and I remember why I used to love dancing. There's something about the way Mark moves. He gives me space to breathe while keeping me close enough to feel the warmth radiating from his chest.
