Chapter 100 CHAPTER 100:NO ARMOR JUST LOVE
~Calvin ~
The suit fit perfectly.
That should’ve been reassuring.
Instead, it made everything feel more real.
I stood in front of the mirror, adjusting my cufflinks for the third time, watching my reflection with the detached focus I usually reserved for boardrooms and negotiations. Same posture. Same controlled breathing. Same calm exterior.
Different weight in my chest.
Today, I wasn’t preparing for a meeting.
I was preparing to stand in front of everyone I loved and promise my entire life to one woman.
I exhaled slowly.
“Relax,” a familiar voice said behind me. “You look like you’re about to argue with the mirror.”
I turned to see Wayne leaning against the doorframe, already dressed, tie slightly loosened like he’d refused to take this day too seriously.
“You’re early,” I said.
“You’re pacing,” he replied. “We both broke character.”
I snorted quietly, turning back to the mirror. “I’m not nervous.”
Wayne raised an eyebrow. “You’ve adjusted your cuffs four times.”
“They need to be even.”
“They were even the first time.”
I dropped my hands.
He stepped into the room fully then, closing the door behind him, the noise of the venue fading into a distant hum. For a moment, neither of us spoke. Wayne studied me the way only a brother could not looking for flaws, but for truths I wasn’t saying out loud.
“You okay?” he asked, softer now.
I nodded. Then paused. Then shook my head once.
“I don’t know,” I admitted. “I’ve handled pressure my entire life. This feels… different.”
“Because it matters,” he said simply.
I met his eyes.
Wayne had always been the one who said things plainly. No unnecessary drama. No overthinking. Just truth, delivered clean and honest.
I leaned back against the dresser. “What if I fail her?”
He didn’t laugh. Didn’t tease.
Instead, he crossed his arms and tilted his head slightly. “You mean like you’ve failed other things?”
I didn’t answer.
“Cal,” he continued, “you’re not afraid of commitment. You’re afraid of consequence. Big difference.”
That landed harder than I expected.
I stared at the floor for a second, then looked up. “I’ve built my life on control. Planning. Anticipating outcomes. Loving her means accepting that I can’t control everything.”
Wayne smiled faintly. “Yeah. Welcome to being human.”
The minutes stretched.
Outside, I could hear movement chairs shifting, distant laughter, the faint sound of music being tested. Somewhere on the other side of this building, Elara was probably getting ready.
The thought alone made my chest tighten.
Wayne followed my gaze to the window. “You remember what you were like before her?”
I huffed a breath. “Unfortunately.”
“You were sharp,” he said. “Successful. Focused. And completely unreachable.”
“That’s harsh.”
“It’s accurate.”
I didn’t argue.
He continued, “You used to believe love was something you managed. Like risk. Like exposure.”
I glanced at him. “And now?”
“Now,” he said, “you let it wreck you. In the best way.”
I smiled despite myself.
“She didn’t wreck me,” I said. “She made me honest.”
Wayne nodded slowly. “That’s scarier.”
“Yeah.”
He walked over and straightened my tie, his movements quick and practiced, like he’d done this a hundred times before.
“You know,” he said, “I didn’t think I’d see you like this.”
“Like what?”
“Like someone who wants a life instead of just a future.”
I frowned. “Those are the same thing.”
He shook his head. “No. A future is ambition. A life is presence.”
I let that sink in.
“She taught me how to be present,” I said quietly.
“I know,” Wayne replied. “You listen now.”
I scoffed. “I always listened.”
“You waited your turn to speak.”
Fair.
The door opened briefly, someone checking in, then closing it again. Time was moving forward whether I was ready or not.
Wayne leaned against the wall. “So. Last chance to back out.”
I shot him a look.
He grinned. “Kidding. Mostly.”
“I’ve never been more certain of anything,” I said. “That’s what scares me.”
“That’s what anchors you,” he corrected.
I ran a hand through my hair. “I keep thinking about the promises. Saying them out loud. In front of everyone.”
“You mean the part where you admit you love someone enough to choose them every day?”
“Yes.”
“That is very on-brand terrifying for you.”
I laughed quietly, tension easing just a little.
Silence settled again.
Then Wayne spoke, more serious than before. “You know Dad would’ve liked her.”
My throat tightened.
“Yeah,” I said. “He would have.”
“She doesn’t try to fix you,” Wayne continued. “She sees you. That matters.”
I swallowed. “I spend my life fixing things.”
“And with her?”
“I get to just be.”
Wayne nodded once. “Then you’re doing it right.”
The coordinator knocked. “Five minutes.”
My pulse spiked.
Wayne pushed off the wall. “Alright. Final question.”
“Go ahead.”
He looked at me squarely. “When you picture the rest of your life every version of it does she exist in all of them?”
I didn’t hesitate.
“Yes.”
“Then stop questioning it.”
He pulled me into a quick hug firm, grounding, brother to brother.
“You’re ready,” he said.
As he stepped back, the weight shifted.
Not gone.
Just steadier.
I straightened my jacket, took one last look in the mirror not for flaws, but for truth.
The man staring back wasn’t perfect.
But he was honest.
And in a few minutes, he would be married to the woman who taught him how to love without armor.
Wayne clapped my shoulder. “Let’s go get you a wife.”
I breathed out, slow and deep.
Yeah.
Let’s do that.