Mara’s friend, Morgan, came down the aisle first, in a white dress with yellow roses in her hands. Morgan was his bridal party pairing and since her two boyfriends were in attendance, Willow planned on being extra platonic. Beth walked the aisle next, smiling broadly at everyone until her gaze found Byron’s. She looked gorgeous, her red hair shining in the sun. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Byron swipe his cheeks.

When Beth had almost reached the altar, the crowd collectively drew its breath and time began to dawdle in that way that seemed exclusive to weddings and sunsets. Everything drew outward and became painfully, penetratingly beautiful. A figure in a long white dress appeared under the flower arch, arm-in-arm with a suited man.

Chase and Mara walked slowly, calmly, as though they had an eternity to arrive. Willow had never seen Mara look so stunning, with her huge blue eyes and serene smile. She could have been an elf queen in one of the books Derek loved. He turned to look at his friend. He’d known Derek a long time, but he’d never seen him with that expression on his face. He looked fierce, almost angry, but his eyes shone with tears.

As they reached the altar, Mara and Chase turned to face one other. Chase kissed Mara’s cheek and Willow saw that he was crying as well.

He allowed his own eyes to well up, giving in to the tenderness threatening to tear him apart. Derek stepped forward and shook Chase’s hand. Then he and Mara came together, love and relief shining on their faces. Willow looked into the crowd, seeking Eden. When their eyes met, she gave him a small smile.

“I love you,” she mouthed, and his heart ripped open.

It’s all worth it, he thought. The pain and complications. It’s worth it to just have someone to love who loves you.

He held Eden’s gaze until the celebrant began to speak.

After the ceremony, he had five minutes before he was due to leave for the photographs. He ran through the crowd, trying not to knock over old ladies as he looked for Eden. He found her at the back of the marquee and pulled her into an empty corner.

“Are you okay?” she asked. “Are you allowed to be here?”

He answered by kissing her. That was more important, anyway. When they pulled apart, he felt fifteen times better. “How are you, pretty girl?”

“Great.” She tugged at his kilt. “Have I told you how amazing you look in this?”

“You can always tell me more.”

She lifted the tartan, stroking his thigh. “Can you please wear a kilt at all times?”

“Baby, people would think I was taking the piss.”

“Fuck them.”

He grinned. “Sorry, lass. Special occasions only.”

“Fine. It might be worth getting married just to see you in this.”