24 — My Captain America

When I said I wanted to get married, this wasn’t what I had pictured. Cold feet, wedding jitters, all the things people warned me about when I was younger… I used to think they exaggerated. Turns out they were real. Just patient. Waiting for the perfect moment to prove me wrong, and today seemed to be that moment.

I was never the girl who believed in fairy tales or those sugary happily-ever-after endings. I didn’t dream about glass slippers or Prince Charmings. Real life taught me early that the world did not work that way, and nothing shattered that lesson more than losing my dad.

My father. God, he would have loved today. He talked about it so often—how he would take my hand and place it in my future husband’s like it was the greatest honor of his life, how he would try not to cry as he walked me down the aisle. He had imagined every detail long before I ever cared about weddings.

Back then I used to roll my eyes at him, thinking it was all too dreamy, too soft, too unreal. Now I would have given anything to hear him describe it one more time.

I missed him. I missed everything. The little treehouse that belonged only to us. The ridiculous tea parties where my toys sat around like guests at a royal table. My old bedroom, the one that always smelled faintly of his cologne because he’d tuck me in at night after falling asleep on my homework.

He was my superhero. My very own Captain America.

He also loved embarrassing me with his Prince Charming fantasies. Every time he mentioned my “future husband,” he’d insist on challenging the man to a chess match. It was his favourite game, and he was annoyingly good at it. I’d groan and complain, but a part of me adored how serious he sounded.

Life can be cruel. One big, unapologetic bitch.

We weren’t poor when he was alive. Not rich like Hailey’s parents or the Reynolds family, but comfortable. Upper-middle, if anyone wanted to label it. My father was a successful lawyer, respected and brilliant. He built his firm from the ground up, renovated an entire building, and turned it into one of New York’s finest. He was at the top of his game, slowly stepping into business, eager for more.

He should have stayed a lawyer. That single contract he took in the business world became his last. A decision that cost him his life.

I never got to say goodbye. One moment he was our everything, the next he was gone.

My mother and I depended on him completely. She was a housewife because he insisted he didn’t want her stressing herself. I used to think it was romantic. I even imagined being a housewife myself one day. Looking back now… that was the naïve, spoiled version of me.

Never again. I would work until my fingers gave out before I relied on someone the way my mother did.

His family didn’t help. They couldn’t keep the firm afloat, couldn’t uphold the legacy he left behind. Another loss layered on top of the first. Every time I passed what used to be Maxwell Firm, my chest tightened. It always felt like losing my father twice.

My father’s name had been replaced with my uncle Mark’s. A man who would never match my father’s brilliance or his heart, no matter how large the name on the building looked.

Sometimes I wondered how life would look if he hadn’t died. Would my mom have fallen sick? Would I have ever crossed paths with Trevor? Probably only as a face on a magazine cover. And Hailey? I doubt our worlds would have collided at all.

When Dad was alive, he pushed Yale like it was air and I needed to breathe it to survive, to continue some family tradition of academic excellence... I pushed back every chance I got. I wanted art school, fashion, colour, fabric. I wanted to escape New York, which led me to the Academy of Art University in San Francisco. Even after he was buried, I kept resisting his wishes.

He would be horrified—and amused—that I still managed to rebel from six feet under.

I wasn’t daughter of the year, that was for sure.

The door opened and my soon-to-be mother-in-law stepped into the hotel suite. She paused, hand to her heart, when she saw my Halle couture dress hanging near the window. She’d already seen it—She had chosen it the day we went shopping together, insisting it would suit me without letting me see it. She kept telling me it was a surprise. She was right. It was stunning. More than I ever imagined.

It was worth every second of waiting.

The dress was a vintage lace mermaid design with beadwork that glittered under the warm lights, delicate and gorgeous. Paired with Swarovski rhinestone earrings, it was elegance wrapped in fabric. I had never imagined myself in anything like it.

“Come on, Ally,” she said gently. “It’s time.”

“Is it normal that I’m nervous?”

“Completely. You’re the most beautiful bride I’ve ever seen. I can’t wait to see Trevor’s face when he sees you. It’ll be priceless.” She clapped her hands, glowing with excitement.

I tried to smile, but my nerves had their own agenda. “Yeah, right,” I murmured under my breath.

“Guess who got the last invite?” a familiar voice chimed from the doorway.

“Rose!” I squealed as she stepped inside.

She crossed her arms dramatically. “Don’t ‘Rose’ me, Ally. You didn’t check back.”

“I know. I’m sorry. My head’s been… everywhere.” Everything’s been practically a whirlwind.”

“Oh, I can see that.” Her grin turned wicked. “Who would’ve thought you’d end up becoming Mrs. Dickless Meatball?” She snorted out a laugh.

I cracked up. Her laugh could lift a dead soul.

“Dickless meatball?” Trevor’s mom repeated, confused.

I winced. “Inside joke, Mom. This is Rosalie. Rose. She works with Trevor.”

“Oh, Rosalie! Come here and give this old woman a hug.”

They embraced while I shook my head, smiling.

“Omg, girl, I could marry you right now!” Hailey burst in, waving my bouquet of circus roses.

“Where were you? It’s almost time,” I cried, half laughing, half panicking. I hugged her tightly. “I can’t believe I’m getting married.”

“Believe it,” my mother-in-law said warmly. “You’re stuck with us now.”

Her confidence steadied something inside me. I hugged her too, grateful for her presence, her kindness.

Everything was ready. The dress. The flowers. The people I loved. And despite the nerves curling through me, I inhaled deeply.

It was time to face it.

Whatever it was going to be.

And I let myself believe, just for a moment, that I was ready.

“Hailey,” I whispered, and she held me from behind.

“Do not start crying yet,” she warned.

She sounded like she might cry first.