Noah must be sensing my nervousness, because he winks at me. “Nice touch,” he says, pointing to the flowers. “She would have liked that,” he adds, his voice catching a bit.
I gaze down at the bouquet, and the need for being back in Emerald Creek intensifies as the officiant goes through this shortcut of a wedding. But a smile tugs at my lips as I realize that all of this is perfection. This was meant to be.
Because just as Emerald Creek saved me, I’m here to save Emerald Creek.
“I do,” I answer the ritual question right after Noah.
Noah takes my hand and slips a ring on my finger. “Does it fit?” he whispers. “I took a guess when I had it sized.”
I glance down at the vintage ring, instantly recognizing the emerald and gold ring as a Callaway family heirloom. My eyes blur, my heart clenches. This part of it isn’t fake.
“You may kiss the bride,” the officiant says.
Noah lifts my hand and kisses it, winking at me again. “We did it,” he whispers.
My left hand is burning with the feeling of the ring and his kiss, while my right is clenching my dress. “Pictures! We need pictures,” I say, needing something to do.
“Plenty of those already,” Noah says, pointing to a photographer I hadn’t noticed. “You alright?” he asks me as he takes me under one arm and turns us for a posed picture.
“Look at each other!” the photographer instructs.
Noah gives my shoulder a squeeze. “We did it,” he repeats as our gazes lock, and I exhale, joining him in a freeing laugh.
We did it.
I honestly don’t know how Noah managed to get us seats just a few hours ago—and really good ones too. The Sphere is packed but the atmosphere is chill and electric at the same time. The three-sixty screens are beyond awesome, and I’m gaping during the whole opening act. But when Phish comes on scene and the haptics go into overdrive, we jump to our feet.
“Ohmygod it’s so cool!” I can’t help but yell in Noah’s ear.
He smiles at me then tilts his head back, eyes half closed, and I too get lost in the music and visual of the dome above our heads and all around us, going from a night sky as starry as Vermont’s, to psychedelic flowers, animals, landscapes and abstract shapes designing intertwining paths in rhythm with the music. All while the vocals, drums, and guitars reverberate deeply into my core. I am one with the music, letting it cradle me, jumping—and singing along when I can.
When they perform “Character Zero,” Noah and I belt it out together, looking at each other, wagging our fingers. Noah lifts his shoulders in a “whatever” gesture and laughs. His glasses are long gone, his gaze vulnerable and free. It’s the happiest I’ve ever seen him.
It’s the happiest I’ve been in a long time too.
After that piece, our section starts swaying together, and we’re pushed together. I trip, and Noah takes me under his arm tostabilize me. He keeps his arm around my shoulders as we sway together. “Ohmygod it’s your song!” I shriek when Phish starts on “Bathtub Gin.” I’m a little drunk on the music—and the margaritas we’ve gotten from the bar in memorabilia containers.
And yes, I kinda like that Noah keeps me under his arm for just a little longer.
To, you know, keep me from tripping over people.
nine
Noah
“Woop!” Willow cries as we make our way out of the Sphere, carried by the crowd. “Ohmygod best day of my life,” she continues. She takes her phone out of her back pocket and leans against me to bring us to an empty spot. Then she turns us into selfie mode. “Awww look at that smile on you!” Her eyes are dancing, locking with mine on the screen of her phone. She angles the phone so that the Phish logo is in the frame, then takes several shots. Tucking her phone back in her pocket, she turns serious. “We should probably post on ECHoes,” she drops as we walk toward the rideshare line.
“It’s the middle of the night over there.”
“Pushing this off won’t make it any easier.”
“True. But this was a good day. Best day in a long time. No need to ruin it yet.” My phone buzzes, telling me our ride is already here. I hold the door open for her.
“Good concert?” the driver asks us once we’ve confirmed our destination.
“Epic,” we both answer.
“Newlyweds?” he says, glancing at us in the rearview mirror.
