I know I’m probably about five years too late.

I tried to convince myself that if you were happy, I’d be happy for you. a beat, then a shaky exhale Turns out I’m a selfish bastard.

a whisper, too loud in the stillness Is that Dean Di Laurentis?

turns slightly, not toward the voice but toward you, his expression searching

I love you.

I loved you at Briar. I loved you when you stopped answering my calls. I loved you when you told me you’d met someone. And apparently I’m going to love you when you hate me for standing up here and completely ruining your wedding.

But if there’s even a tiny part of you standing up there wondering what would’ve happened if I’d asked you to stay… swallows hard …then I’m asking now.

Don’t marry him.

Come with me.

Just this once, sweetheart… he holds out his hand, palm up, fingers trembling Choose me.