“Ronan is going to lose his freaking mind when he sees you in this dress,” Daphne mutters. “Let’s hope he can make it through the reception instead of dragging you into the office.”

I snort indelicately, as though the idea is completely ludicrous. “As if.” I can feel my face going red, especially since my mom is also in the room with us.

“Not according to Lars,” she mumbles.

“What did you just say?”

She gives me a serene smile. “Hmm?”

I poke her in the shoulder. “Since when do you and Lars gossip about what Ronan and I do behind closed doors?”

Her smile turns into a smirk. “You mean closed office doors, which happen to be right across the hall from the stockroom.”

I don’t get to grill her about it because there’s a knock on the door, but I make a mental note to give Lars hell for telling Daphne about the office incident. He was supposed to take that to the grave.

Daphne opens the door for my dad. “Care Blaire, you look gorgeous.” He pulls me in for a huge hug and for once I don’t hate that nickname. He holds me at arm’s length, eyes watery, a sad smile on his face. “You ready for this?”

“I’ve never been more ready for anything in my life.” And it’s true. I can’t wait to marry Ronan, because then we can officially start our forever. I slip my arm through his. “You ready to walk me down the aisle and give me away?”

“Never, but I can see how much you two love each other, so I’m willing to put my own feelings aside on this one.” He winks and gives my arm a squeeze. “I don’t really feel like I have any words of wisdom to impart to you where marriage is concerned, all considering.”

I lean my head on his shoulder. “You taught me that love doesn’t always fit into a neat little box, and I’m a better person for it. Plus, normal families are boring.”

He chuckles and bends to kiss me on the cheek. “I’m glad he loves you enough to deal with the rest of us.”

“We’re kind of a package deal, aren’t we? Now let’s get out there so I can marry the one that I want.”

The wedding march starts—bagpipes, of course—and we walk down the short hall, turn left at the end of the bar and there’s Ronan.

His hand goes to his chest and he tips his chin up to the ceiling; his eyes fall closed for the briefest moment and he murmurs something that makes Gramps squeeze his arm. Of course he’s Ronan’s best man.

As I make my way down the aisle, past our family and friends and Tori and the camera crew, I feel like I’m falling backward through time, Alice traveling to Wonderland, to the moment when Henry and Dottie found their forever in exactly the same place, on exactly the same day, sixty-three years ago. History sometimes repeats itself in the most magical ways.

When I finally reach Ronan, my dad kisses me on the cheek and I take Ronan’s hand. He looks magnificent and happy and a tad nervous, and like he’s on the verge of tears. So am I.

“God, you’re beautiful.” He squeezes both of my hands. “You look like you were made for me.”

I squeeze back. “That’s because I am.”

And I know without a doubt that Ronan is mine. That we’ll stand beside each other through all the good times and the bad, that we’ll argue and cry and laugh and love.

He’s the icing to my cupcake. My happily forever after.