She’d kept the dress a secret, not wanting me to see it until this moment. She picks the train of her dress off the ground and starts toward me. Every step closer, the air becomes harder to breathe through, until she’s standing in front of me—her hair loose from its knot, running past her shoulders to the lace of the top of her dress. A string of tiny buttons run down the front, between her breasts down to her waist, where her dress flares out, the fabric spread a few feet behind her and nothing, nothing, has ever felt more right, more real, more raw than every single emotion coursing through me.

“Hi,” she says through a shaky breath.

I place my hat under my arm and take one of her silk covered hands in mine, her other hand too busy gripping the glass jar. “Riley, you look…” I have no words to complete my thoughts.

“So do you,” she says, her head tilted, her smile just for me.

“Are we ready?” the celebrant asks, and we both nod, not once taking our eyes off each other.

And just like all those times I’ve said goodbye to the people we love, the words he speaks are generic. The feelings are not.

We say “I do” and kiss for the first time as man and wife and a moment later, we’re alone. Just me, Riley, and hundreds of fallen veterans, none more important than Davey O’Brien. She’s the first to break our stare, looking down and between us at the white granite marker with his name on it. She squats down, her legs hidden behind her dress and places the jar next to his marker. She runs her glove-covered fingers over his name and whispers, “It’s good to finally meet you in person.”

I laugh, because any other reaction would be too overwhelming. I sit down next to her, my knees raised, my elbows resting on them. “You wanted to be in my wedding, so here we are.” I take Riley’s hand. “Davey O’Brien, I’d like you to meet my wife, Riley Banks.”

Epilogue

Jeremy,

Sometimes I think about what it’d be like to meet you. Not the kid version of you I met years ago, but the version of you now. Crazy, I know, considering where you are but I can’t help it. I imagine walking into a bar or a party, holding Riley’s hand and you being there. You stand taller when you see us—or in Riley’s case—feel us, because you know as much as I do that it’s her presence that has heads turning. Not her looks, or her voice, just her.

I wonder what you’d say to me, or what I would say to you—or if we’d even acknowledge each other. And then I picture Riley… what she’d be like. And I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything as clear as I do her.

She’d be looking down at her feet, all awkward-like and she’d probably let go of my hand… not because she’d be embarrassed to be seen with me, but out of respect for you. And you’d smile at her. The same way I would.

And that’s how I know that we’d get along—you and I—there wouldn’t be any awkwardness between us because we have one thing in common and, at the end of the day, it’s the only thing that matters.

We have Riley.

~

I want you to know that she’s okay. For a long time, she wasn’t. But she is now and I hope I had something to do with that.

She loved you. She’ll continue to love you. And it’s because of that, I’ll continue to respect you. While she’s laying in my arms at night, I’ll keep my word to her… for you.

I told her once that I planned on loving her the way you did.

I hope that’s enough.

I hope I do you justice, Jeremy.

And I hope I continue to do so—for as long as we both shall live.

This, I promise you.

– Dylan Banks.

* * *

Dave,

I fell in like in a single text—when you told me to ‘carry the fuck on.’

I fell in love when you asked me to take care of your mom’s insecurities.

I fell in forever when you—a boy I loved—put his best friend and me first.

You were suffering, and no amount of times I wish upon a single candle that you’d come back, or that you’d have talked to someone—would change where you are now. But it changed the way I live my life. The way we both do.

Time and love is different. Love you can share; you can give to others. Love, in some cases, is even replaceable. Time is not. And I want to thank you for giving us yours. For being my anchor when I needed to be grounded and for being my calm when I had to hide my fear.

Your life was not for nothing, Dave. Every moment, every breath, every tick of the clock, Dylan and I grow as people, and as one. We live, we laugh, we love—not just with each other, but with everyone around us. You taught us that. You gave us that.

I love our boy. And I’ll continue to love him. For better or for worse, even when death does us part.

This, I promise you.

Riley Banks.

The End

About the Author

Jay McLean is an avid reader, writer, and, most of all, procrastinator. She writes what she loves to read—books that can make her laugh, make her smile, make her hurt, and make her feel. She currently lives in a forever half-done home in Australia with her fiancé and her two sons.

Follow Jay on Instagram and Twitter *jaymcleanauthor. For more information, visit her blog at *jaymcleanauthor*.