His Little Amelia

EPILOGUE | Part 2

• Several months later •

"Ah...were you this nervous on your big day?" I huffed, the nerves not leaving even when I let out a deep breath. I chuckled, shaking my head as I adjusted the cuffs of my white dress shirt for the umpteenth time; it felt like every direction wasn't good enough. The suit looked good; the white shirt was ironed stiff and lay crisply on my body, while the dark brown slacks I wore ran straight to my ankles.

But still, I couldn't leave my reflection be.

The cuffs were perfect, the collar sharp, the shoes buffed, the tie...okay, the tie could be straighter. I pulled at it again and blew out a breath. The mirror reflected a man who should've looked composed; sleek hair swooped back without a strand out of place, jaw freshly shaved, skin smooth and clean. I looked like someone who didn't even have the word 'nervous' in his vocabulary.

But inside?

I couldn't even begin to explain how nervous I felt. 

"Tug on the tie anymore, and it would grow some legs and walk off. You look good, man. Let it go," Gabe snorted behind me.

I turned, and there he was- my best man and best friend for almost a decade, leaning casually against the wall of the suite, arms crossed, a grin playing on his face like he'd been waiting for this moment his whole life.

"You didn't answer the question." I shot him a glare.

"Oh, you mean whether I was a mess on my big day?" Gabe's smile widened. "Everest, you mocked me. Literally mocked me, for wanting to take another shower before the wedding started. I was sweating buckets, remember? You're getting married! That does something to you."

He walked over and patted my shoulder like I was a toddler needing reassurance. "I think you even said - and I quote - 'Get a grip, man, she already said yes.'"

"Okay, okay," I muttered, the corners of my mouth twitching. "That was insensitive."

"A little," Gabe agreed, clearly satisfied.

He walked over and plopped himself into the armchair across from me, legs stretched, hands behind his head like he was lounging at a beach resort, not backstage at my wedding.

"I haven't seen you this nervous since that operation during our third year together," Gabe said, shaking his head a little. "You didn't sleep that night, just kept checking over your gear, making sure every man was ready. I thought you'd crack under the weight of it. But you didn't." He glanced at the door, then back at me. "You won't today either."

I remembered that night. The silence. The tension. The flicker of doubt that ran through my spine every time I thought of who might not make it back. I had walked into danger then with my jaw set and my hands steady. But now? Now my hands were shaking. And the only thing waiting for me on the other side of those double doors was the woman I loved.

"I'm terrified, man." I admitted, my voice quiet. "This? This is everything I want...and I just don't want to screw it up." Gabe leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, the teasing gone from his voice. "You won't."

"She doesn't want you to be perfect, Everest," Gabe said after a beat. "She just wants you."

He didn't say anything after that. Didn't need to. Gabe knew when to shut up. He'd said his piece - and somehow, it landed exactly where I needed it to.

The door creaked open a second later.

It was my Dad.

I saw his eyes flick from me to Gabe, and then back to me. He smiled, the kind he'd only ever reserved for life's biggest milestones. "Well," He said, stepping forward, jacket folded over one arm, "If you weren't nervous, then I'd be worried." He teased, clearly telling I was nervous with a little as a look at me.