Page 164 of Faultlines

There are no guarantees. I can’t promise I’ll never wake up afraid, or an innocent text message won’t make my stomach tighten.

But I do believe we want the same future. With that last thought, I smooth the skirt of my ivory dress and look admiringly at Sloane and Lucy’s hard work. Wildflowers sway around the split-rail fence. Lucy insisted there wasn't anywhere else we could do this. “Besides,” she'd said, “the ranch has watched your family fall apart. It deserves to watch it come back together.” I didn't argue.

My dad stands in the front row beside Ellie. Our daughter isn’t thirteen anymore. She’s taller than I am now, and in high school. She catches my gaze and smiles through happy tears.

Ethan is waiting beneath the oak tree.

All I see is the twenty-two-year-old architecture student who nervously adjusted his tie before promising to love me forever.

Life has added gray to his hair. It’s carved lines around his eyes. It’s humbled us both. But somehow, after everything, I see him. Not the man who broke my heart. The man who chose, every single day afterward, to help put it back together.

The music fades as I meet him beneath the branches. His eyes glisten before I’ve even reached him.

“You look beautiful,” he whispers.

“So do you.”

The officiant welcomes everyone before inviting us to read our vows.

Ethan goes first.

“I used to think being faithful meant simply staying married. I know now that faithfulness means so much more. I promise to always choose us even when life feels complicated.”

A quiet stillness settles over our family.

“I can’t change the worst choices I ever made. But I can spend the rest of my life making better ones.”

His voice breaks.

“And that’s exactly what I intend to do.”

By the time he finishes, I can barely see through my tears.

I unfold my own vows with trembling hands and begin.

“I used to believe strength meant carrying everything.” A few knowing smiles spread through the guests. “I thought loving people meant never asking for help. Never resting. Never letting anyone else shoulder the burden.” I glance toward the Juniper House staff gathered together near the back. “I know better now. You taught me that,” I say, my thumb tracing the scar on his palm. “Forgiveness isn’t forgetting. It’s deciding the future deserves more attention than the past.”

When we’re invited to exchange rings once more, Ethan slips mine onto my finger with hands that shake just as much as they did twenty-five years earlier.

“I love you,” he whispers.

“I know.”

“And I’ll spend the rest of my life proving it.”

“I know that too.” Then he kisses me and applause erupts.

Somewhere behind us Sloane loudly announces she’s already crying too hard to eat cake.

The reception feels less like a formal celebration and more like one enormous family dinner. Aunt Sarah insists everyone take home leftovers. My dad dances with Ellie while pretending his knees don’t hurt.

Daniel catches my attention near the edge of the dance floor. “I wanted to congratulate and thank you,” he says.

“For what?”

“Cedar House.”

Construction finished six months ago on a building that once existed only in my imagination. The corners of his mouth lift. “You built it, Claire.”