Fast Lane | ✔️

Epilogue

Epilogue

The much anticipated wedding was the biggest celebration to hit California all year.

Miller Bradley wore Gucci. Claire Ryan in Versace. Both stood barefoot on the white sands of the Pacific, contented smiles decorating their faces. Everyone who was anyone was there. The Jolie-Pitts, the Beckhams, the Wests. Styles with his date, Bieber and his entourage.

The happy couple stood at the makeshift alter, comfortably situated on the beach behind their Malibu home. It was a beautiful day to get married, not even one cloud visible in the smog-less, blue sky.

"Do you, Miller, take Claire to be your wedded wife, to live together in marriage?" the wedding officiant asked, as the mid-afternoon sun danced across the nearly two hundred guests in attendance. "Do you promise to love her, comfort her, honor and keep her? For better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, forsaking all others as long as you both shall live?"

Miller turned to Claire, deep love and respect evident in his eyes. "I do." The smile on his face stretched even wider.

"And do you, Claire, take Miller to be your wedded husband, to live together --" A tiny gasp escaped from Claire's ruby-red lips and her brown eyes widened with alarm.

"Claire," Miller began, immediately concerned. "Are you alright?"

Her slender hands flew to her swollen stomach, and a thin layer of sweat beaded her perfectly shaped brows. "It's -the - baby, Miller," she whispered. "I think my water just broke."

An excited murmur made its way throughout the crowd as everyone turned to study the bride, watching anxiously to see what would happen next.

The preacher spoke rapidly, a grin spreading across his face. "Then, we'd better make this quick. We've got a baby on the way!" He finished their vows at record speed. "Do you promise to love him, honor him, and forsake all others? For richer, poorer, in sickness and in health, as long as you both shall live?"

Miller's arm wrapped tightly around Claire's waist, while his other hand landed on her midsection, allowing her to rest against him. "I . . . do," she breathed, looking as lovely as ever. Miller began to guide her down the long isle as the preacher followed closely behind.

"Then with the power vested in me, on this most joyous of days, I now pronounce you husband and wife. Miller, you may kiss your bride - very quickly, I might add!" He laughed, his rotund belly shaking with delight.

Miller leaned down and gave Claire a peck on the lips, his shoulders tight with anticipation. "Sorry," he announced with a nervous smile. "I know we need to hurry, but I have to make this official." Nothing could have prepared him for how excited and scared he would feel at the birth of their first child.

Claire looked up into his eyes, a blissful expression adorning her features. "Then kiss me like you mean it," she said, smiling back.

"But . . . the baby . . ." he questioned, confused.

"I'm not leaving here until you kiss me properly. I've been waiting a long time to become your wife, Miller Bradley. We're doing this right."

Miller broke out into a wide grin and positioned himself in front of her, as closely as her condition would allow. She was right. This marriage had been a long time coming. No way was he cutting corners.

After several months of diligence, they had just recently broken ground on a brand new shelter situated in downtown L.A., catering to the many teenage runaways that lived on the streets. It would be called Marie's House, Claire's suggestion. All their hard work was finally about to pay off, and they were in need of a little rest and relaxation before the shelter officially opened its doors. And since Miller had decided to produce Runaway independently, who knew when the chaos would end? But he loved every minute of it. There was already talk of his screenplay taking over the Sundance Film Festival next year, and he knew he owed it all to Marie.