Well him and the defiant as fuck woman who grabbed me by the balls and said non-negotiable.

“Hey, Becks?”

“What do you need?”

And that right there gets me. His unwavering friendship.

I look down for a moment and take a sip of the Macallan. “That’s good shit. Thanks,” I say, stalling.

“A rarity for a one-of-a-kind type of day.”

Years of friendship come down to right now. Two young kids, now men, and the one that was fucked-up just might finally have it together. How the hell do I tell him that? Thanks for putting up with my bullshit and being my punching bag and wingman all at once?

“Thanks, man. For everything.” It’s all I’ve got, but I think he knows what I’m saying because he meets my eyes for a moment, a slight smirk on his face, and nods his head in acknowledgement.

“Always.” He sips his drink and then leans forward and taps it against mine. “And just remember to always end a fight with these two words: yes dear. Biting your tongue at the end of a fight will up the ante of her using hers later to make-up.”

I laugh with him and his fucked-up logic that makes perfect sense before tossing back the rest of my drink.

“You ready, Son?” My dad’s voice from the door interrupts us.

I sigh and fuck if I can’t stop the smile that’s on my face. “Yep, just putting my tie on,” I say, rising to get it. I meet my dad’s eyes and we had our father-son moment earlier but I still can’t get over that look he gives me.

The pride mixed with attaboy. The look the fucked-up little boy I was would have killed to have as much as something to eat and yet here I am, twenty something years later, and it means more now than I ever thought it could.

Sweet Jesus. When people say weddings make you sappy, they weren’t fucking kidding. But fuck anyone who tells me I don’t deserve this. I’ve been to Hell and back, survived the darkest shit imaginable and I’m standing here with my old man and my best friend about to marry the woman who took the pieces the poison hadn’t eaten through and made me whole again.

I think I need another drink.

Let’s get this waiting shit over.

I’m restless. Antsy as fuck. I mean, I’m close to all of the people here but they seriously need to stop chatting and sit the hell down so I can see her.

“Cool your jets. You’ve waited this long, I don’t think another couple of minutes will kill you.”

Her voice startles me but I keep my eyes focused on all of the guests. “Easy for you to say,” I tell my sister, knowing it’s no use to bullshit her that the nerves are starting to kick in.

“Well it’s about time,” she says sarcastically, her hand dusting something off the shoulder of my jacket.

I glance over at her. “Exactly my point. It’s about time for it to start.”

“That’s not what I meant.” She snorts in amusement. “I meant it’s about time you’re finally acting normal about this. That your nerves are showing. You were freaking me out with the Mr. Cool-Calm-and-Collected routine. I wanted to ask who stole my brother.”

I roll my eyes at her, my patience wearing out but for all the right reasons. When I meet her gaze I see the tears there, accept the love in them. I just sigh and shake my head, an unsteady grin on my face. “I’m getting married, Q.”

A tear leaks over and she runs her hands up and down my lapels. “I know. It’s surprising as hell but you deserve it. All of the happiness and love she brings you.” She steps up on her toes and kisses my cheek. “Just treat her like you treated me, minus the nuggies and wedgies,” she says with a wink, emotion breaking her voice, “and you’ll be just fine.”

I pull her into me and kiss the side of her cheek. She bats me away so I don’t mess up her makeup or hair. “Thanks.”

She just nods her head at me before shaking it. “I won’t believe it until I see a ring on your finger.” She laughs. “I guess now would be a good time to tell her parents that our family has a no return policy on you.”

“Quinlan,” I warn her, but the smile on my face gives away that I don’t care if she tells them that or not because they won’t need to return me. I’m in this for the long haul.

She’s called from my mother upstairs and she kisses my cheek one last time before running up the steps.

Time passes slower than the pace car around the track. I’m amped up, ready to get the show on the road, and a new Mrs. Donavan into bed when all is said and done. The officiate leads me outside. I stand there and make eye contact with my mom who has been a wreck all day since we had breakfast until now.

The music starts. Some classical shit that I’m sure I’ll never remember but at the same time will know every time I hear it what it means. Where I was. What she looked like.

Tanner and Quinlan walk down. Then Becks and Haddie. I don’t even see them. I’m rocking on my heels. Clasping my hands in front of me. Telling myself to breathe.

Fuck. I’m really doing this. Really want to do this.

The wedding march starts. At least I know this song. Kind of hard to miss.

But when the music starts, I feel like the bottom drops out.