Chapter 151: A Wedding in the Making

Chapter 151: A Wedding in the Making
Sophia’s POV

I had never been the kind of woman who dreamed about a big, elaborate wedding.

Never the kind who imagined white dresses, flowers, or first dances under fairy lights.

Never the kind who thought about the perfect venue, the perfect song, the perfect moment.

Because for so long, I hadn’t thought those things were meant for me.

But now?

Now, I was sitting in the middle of our home, surrounded by the people I loved, talking about a wedding that was actually happening.

A wedding that I wanted.

A wedding that was ours.

And fuck—

That was something I never thought I’d say.

"So," Claire started, bouncing slightly in her seat, "since we’ve all established that this wedding is happening here, in your garden, I need to know—" she leaned forward, her voice dropping slightly, "are we thinking a summer wedding? Fall? Winter?”

I hesitated, glancing at Travis, who was lounging in his chair across from me, beer in hand, looking entirely too entertained by my discomfort.

Because fuck—

This was happening.

This was real.

And the fact that Travis wasn’t giving me an out, wasn’t making some smart-ass remark about not needing a wedding to prove anything—

That he wanted this just as much as I did—

It was settling deep in my chest in a way that almost made me panic.

"Summer," I finally said, my voice softer than I intended.

"Summer?" Leah asked, her brow raising slightly.

I swallowed, nodding. "Yeah. I want everything to be in bloom. I want it to feel… warm. Alive.”

And fuck—

I realized in that moment why it mattered so much.

Because for years, I had been surviving.

I had been breathing, working, fighting—but I hadn’t been living.

And now?

Now, I wanted life.

I wanted color, laughter, warmth.

I wanted to feel every single second of it.

Travis must have seen something shift in my expression, because before I could think too much about what I had just admitted, he reached for my hand, lacing our fingers together, squeezing just enough to anchor me.

"Summer it is, then," he murmured, his thumb brushing against my skin.

And fuck—

It hit me again.

How different this was from anything I had ever thought I’d have.

How safe it felt to plan something like this.

How right it felt.

"Okay, so we have a season," Claire grinned. "Now let’s talk about the dress."

I groaned, pressing my forehead against the table. "Oh my god, please, no."

"Oh my god, yes," she shot back. "You’re going to try on every damn dress in this state until you find the one that makes Travis completely lose his shit when you walk down the aisle.”

"He already loses his shit when I walk into a room," I muttered.

Travis chuckled, his hand tightening around mine. "She’s not wrong."

"Ugh, you two are disgusting," Adam groaned, shoving a chip into his mouth.

"And yet," Leah smirked, "you still sit here and listen to it."

"Unfortunately."

I laughed, the sound feeling lighter than I expected.

Because fuck—

This was real.

This was happening.

And for the first time in my life—

I wasn’t scared of it.

Later that night, after everyone had left, after the house was quiet again, I stood in the garden, barefoot, staring up at the sky, letting everything settle in my chest.

I felt him before I saw him.

The warmth of his presence, the steady weight of him always finding me, always knowing when I needed him.

"Regretting your decision, sweetheart?" he murmured, his voice low, teasing, but laced with something softer.

I shook my head, glancing over my shoulder at him. "No."

His brow lifted slightly. "No?"

"No," I repeated, turning fully, looking up at him, at the man who had changed everything. "I never thought I’d want something like this, but… I do. I really do.”

His fingers curled around my waist, pulling me closer, his lips brushing against my forehead.

"Good," he murmured. "Because I plan on making this the best damn wedding you’ve ever seen.”

I laughed, wrapping my arms around his neck. "You’re impossible.”

"And yet," he smirked, pressing his lips against mine, "you love me anyway.”

And fuck—

I did.

With everything I had.