~ Black Lace ~ (l.h.)

Epilogue

"I realised I was thinking of you, and I began to wonder how long you'd been on my mind. Then it occurred to me: you'd never left."

-Clearlypositive via tumblr

Ten Years Later

Luke and I grew up. Sure, 27/28 years old isn't really grown up, but from where we started when we'd first met-seventeen and eighteen respectively-a lot has changed. I ended up going to an art and design school after high school, which failed miserably. I dropped out in my third year and started up my own private business, painting and making jewellery. That worked much better. Luke now works in the music industry, discovering new talent and trying to help them to be successful. It's exactly what he wanted.

As I walk down the aisle to marry my high school boyfriend, I reflect on all of our memories together. The hectic few weeks we had when we'd first met will always be some of my favourite. I see him standing in front of me at the end of the aisle, wearing a perfect black tux, his hair glowing in the setting sun, and I know I'll never be happier with anyone else. He smiles at me and I return the excited look, tears already forming in my eyes, even though I promised myself I wouldn't cry.

My father kisses my cheek and hands me off to my fiancé for the last time. Luke's hands feel exactly the way I remember-warm, comforting, strong. I have a very great appreciation for those hands. The official feeds us our vows, which we repeat, never looking away from each other's eyes. We opted not to write our own vows, mostly because we both agreed we wouldn't be able to form coherent sentences through our crying. The speeches are going to be killer.

I hear the words "you may now kiss the bride" but they hardly register. All I can see is Luke. He whispers "I love you," as he leans in and softly presses his lips to mine. They are exactly the same as they've always been-soft and full. He still has his lip piercing though he's opted for a simple stud for the ceremony. It's cool against my bottom lip as I grin into the kiss. Though the physical sensation of kissing Luke has become familiar, I still feel the same spark and the shivers up my arms and back that I will always relish.

I hear the applause of our families but it's like we're in a bubble. Everything is muffled except him. He's the one who pulls away because I would gladly keep kissing him for hours.

"You have your whole lives to make out!" Laurel, my maid of honour, looking superb in a rosy dress, says from behind me. I laugh breathlessly and allow Luke to take my hand and we proceed down the aisle together to the tent set up nearby.

Luke and I decided we wanted to get married at his aunt's house. The same one with the field where we spent more than one night just staring up at the stars. It's his favourite place, and it quickly became mine as well. His Aunt June moved into a retirement home in the city last year and offered us her house on one condition: that we at least get married before she died. Ever people of our word, Aunt June is sat in the front row, beaming as we pass her. We owe her a lot, more than we can even say. The house she gave us has everything we need, including a music room in the basement for Luke and a large garage, which we converted into an art studio, for me.

Luke and I take our seats at the head table and our party gathers around us. Laurel takes her seat beside me, shouting something at Ashton to watch Sam and Stella, their 8- and 6-year-old son and daughter. Luke shoots him a sympathetic look-those kids are handfuls, especially when you're watching them on your own. I see Sam, a nearly spitting image of his father, zero in on some candy that was supposed to be for after the dinner but Ashton beats him to it, wagging a condescending finger at him.

Michael and Sarah sit on Luke's other side. They're not married, but they are perfectly happy that way. For all the drama that they went through when they first met, their relationship has been the steadiest of all of us. Even Luke and I took a year off from one another to see other people when I was 20, and Ashton and Laurel have fought numerous times, once not speaking to each other for weeks. Of course, that was before Sam was born. Since their kids came along, they've made more of an effort to get along consistently.

Calum sits at the table across from us with his girlfriend of two years, Tara. He hasn't really had a long-term relationship in a while and Tara seems like a good match for him, which makes me happy. He works with Luke, writing and producing songs together for other bands. It may be untraditional for the bride to have a best man, but if I got to choose one, it'd be him without a doubt. Some things don't change.

The band-one of Luke's newest finds, a really talented group that I can see going very far in the industry-begins to play a gentle song. Luke softly brushes one of my escaped curls behind my ear and I smile at him. The year I met Luke, I let my hair grow back its natural colour and that's the colour I wear to my wedding. I have a better appreciation for the light brown now more than ever.

Luke proposed to me in a simple way at the end of last summer. He took me to the beach, the same one where, 10 years earlier, Calum had made a joking comment about Luke popping the question. At the time, it was just that-a joke-seeing as we'd only met a few weeks beforehand. The day of the actual proposal, Luke and I had had a lovely picnic and spent the evening walking in the sunset along beach. Just before the sun disappeared over the horizon, he'd gotten down on one knee and asked me to marry him. Of course, the answer had been yes. We celebrated with skinny dipping, throwing back, once again, to the first day on the beach. How he remembered any of that, I really don't know.

Luke extends his left hand to me, sporting his new ring, and leads me to the dance floor. I reach up and wrap my hands around his neck as he places his on my hips. The night is clear and cloudless and the stars illuminate the sky beautifully. We sway slowly in the starlight.

"You've gotten better at dancing," I whisper to him, noticing the fact that he hasn't stepped on my toes once. He chuckles.

"I'm pretty lucky to have you, aren't I?" Luke murmurs to me, ignoring my comment. I look up at him adoringly.

"I could say the same thing," I reply, biting my lip.

"It's not too late to back out, Mrs. Hemmings." He grins.

"I would say it is, Mr. Hemmings," I flash him my newly bejewelled ring finger. "Not that I'm complaining... Mrs. Hemmings... I quite like the sound of that."

"Good, because I like the sound of it even more and I'm never going to stop calling you that. Mrs. Winter Hemmings."

"Maybe you should change your name to Mr. Luke Williams, how's that sound?" I tease. He growls softly and presses his lips to mine.

"Either way you're stuck with me."

We continue to sway to the music, lost in our own world together.

Who knew that something as simple and innocent as knocking a plate of potatoes out of someone's hand can change your life so drastically for the better?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

:')