MILLYOur wedding was small, exactly the way I’d wanted it. No cameras, no political guests, no carefully managed press releases. Just the people who’d actually earned a place in our lives standing beneath string lights in Declan’s coastal garden.“You look beautiful,” Nancy whispered, adjusting my veil one final time. “Evelyn would be so proud of you.”“I hope so.”“I know so,” she said firmly.Declan waited for me at the end of the aisle, our daughter Elena balanced against his hip, six months old and utterly unbothered by the significance of the day, and when our eyes met, I felt something settle completely into place that I hadn’t fully believed possible years earlier.“You may kiss the bride,” the officiant said eventually, and Declan did, gently, careful not to disturb Elena, still perched happily against him, laughter rippling through our small gathering of trusted friends.“Husband,” I said softly against his lips.“Wife,” he answered, smiling in a way I rarely saw from him pu
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