Two Minute Warning

Vows and Voices from Home

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The days leading up to the wedding blurred into a dreamlike haze—fittings, tastings, final details. Everything was coming together perfectly, but in the middle of all the excitement, Joe found himself still without one of the most important pieces: his vows.

He sat alone in his home office late one evening, the dim light from his desk lamp casting shadows across the stack of scribbled-out notebook pages. His laptop sat open with a blank document, the blinking cursor taunting him.

He could break down game tape, lead his team down the field in the final seconds of a playoff game—but writing vows to Alessandra? That was something else entirely.

He wanted them to be honest, personal. Something that told her exactly what she meant to him. Something that would remind her, years from now, why they chose each other.

And still, the words weren't coming.

He ran his hand through his hair and exhaled hard, reaching for his phone and pulling up a photo of her—one taken on the night he proposed. Her eyes were wide, filled with shock and tears, her hand clasped over her mouth, the diamond sparkling on her finger.

He smiled.

That's when the words started to come.

Alessandra,

You've always had a wild heart. I think that's the first thing I noticed about you. You moved like someone who'd seen storms and still believed in sunshine. I fell in love with your fire, with the way you love people deeply—even when you're scared. Even when it hurts. Especially when it hurts. I never wanted to tame you, Alé. I just wanted to stand beside you, even when you ran. Even when you had to leave to find yourself. Because I knew—I knew—you'd come back. And when you did, I would be right here. Loving you never felt like a choice. It felt like gravity. Like home. I promise to keep choosing you, every day. In the quiet moments, in the chaos, in the seasons we thrive and the ones we struggle through. I promise to remind you of your strength when you forget it. I promise to fight with you, not against you. I promise to be your teammate, your cheerleader, your peace. And most of all, I promise to never let you go again—no matter where life takes us. You're my favorite song, Alé. And I'll spend the rest of my life learning every word.

Joe leaned back in his chair, rereading the words with a tight chest. A mixture of relief and love spread through him. It wasn't perfect. But it was true.

And he knew Alessandra would feel that.

While Joe finished his vows, Alessandra sat in the guest bedroom of her childhood home, the one she hadn't slept in for nearly a year. The walls were still painted a soft lilac, old posters from her high school cheerleading days still tacked to the corkboard.

She was in Tampa for one final fitting and visit with her family before heading back to Cincinnati for the wedding.

Her mom, Angela, sat beside her on the bed. They hadn't talked deeply in a while—not since before Alessandra left for the tour.

But tonight, the air felt still. Heavy. Honest.

Angela reached over and tucked a strand of hair behind Alessandra's ear, the same way she did when Alessandra was little. "I can't believe you're getting married."

Alessandra smiled softly. "Me neither."

"I was scared for a while," her mom admitted. "When you left last year... when you came back and said you were diving back in with Joe... I wasn't sure if it was the right time. If you were ready."

Alessandra looked down, folding and unfolding her hands in her lap. "Honestly? I wasn't. Not back then."

Angela nodded. "But you are now."

Alessandra looked up, her eyes suddenly glassy. "I'm terrified. But also... so sure. I've never been more sure of anything. He's steady. He's seen all the mess and still wants me."

"Baby," Angela said gently, "you've always been lovable. You just needed someone who saw you—the real you. And Joe... he does. It's in his eyes when he talks about you."

Alessandra blinked fast, swallowing the lump in her throat. "He wrote me a letter the night I left for the tour. Said he knew I needed to go, but he'd wait for me. And he did."

Angela smiled through misty eyes. "That's love, sweetheart. The real kind. The kind that stays."

There was a pause, thick with unspoken emotions.

"I used to think I had to choose," Alessandra whispered. "Between music and love. Between who I was and who I could be with him. But he never asked me to choose."

"That's how you know," Angela said. "Love never asks you to shrink. It holds you while you grow."

They sat in silence for a moment before Alessandra reached out and held her mom's hand tightly.

"Thank you," she said. "For always believing I'd find my way."

Angela kissed her forehead. "You already have."

Alessandra returned to Cincinnati three days before the wedding. Joe picked her up from the airport, his eyes lighting up the moment he saw her walk through the gate. He lifted her into a hug so tight she felt the world blur.

"I missed you," he whispered into her hair.

She pulled back and looked at him. "I've got so much to tell you."

"You'll have the rest of your life to tell me," he said with a grin.

They walked out hand-in-hand, Alessandra leaning her head on his shoulder, hearts beating in sync once again.

That night, they sat on the floor of their living room, surrounded by final seating charts and RSVP cards, sipping wine.

Joe passed her a folded piece of paper.

"My vows," he said. "Well... the rough draft."

She unfolded it carefully, and as she read, her hand flew to her heart.

Tears slipped down her cheeks.

"These are beautiful, Joe."

He looked at her gently. "Do you want to hear them at the ceremony? Or should I come up with something new, so it's a surprise?"

She shook her head. "I want to hear them twice. Once now, once then."

He smiled.

"And I'm writing mine tomorrow," she said. "After that talk with my mom... I think I finally know what I want to say."

The wedding day loomed closer. Dress rehearsals. Final checks. Little things that felt like big things.

But through it all, Joe and Lily moved like one unit. They weren't perfect. They weren't without flaws.

But they were them.

And that was everything.