Jess
Five Years Later

The string quartet at the front of the brick courtyard struck up a crisp, classical arrangement, the sound cutting through the low murmur of the gathered guests. Five years ago, a wedding layout like this triggered a massive, cynical defense mechanism in my brain. Today, the pristine rows of cedar benches felt like a natural backdrop for the greatest love story in the history of ever. Or at least, David and Seth’s version of it.

A small, warm weight tugged firmly at my left index finger. Two-year-old Liam stood beside my skirt, his miniature black tuxedo pants pooling slightly over his tiny leather shoes. He clutched a velvet ring pillow with a level of concentration that required his tongue to poke out of the corner of his mouth.

The DNA paperwork remained buried in a clinic vault somewhere in D.C., forgotten. The medical curiosity vanished the day he arrived. He possessed Hunter’s chaotic cowlick, Brock’s wide, stubborn jawline, and a specific, calculating glare that belonged exclusively to Dane. We never bothered confirming the biological logistics because the answer mattered less than the weather. He belonged to all of them.

"Ready, buddy?" the whisper left my lips as my hand guided his first wobbly step onto the stone aisle.
Liam gave a solemn nod, his tiny legs moving forward in a slow, determined march toward the altar. David and Seth stood beneath an archway of dark wood and ivy, both of them looking emotional, their eyes already glistening with tears at the sight of the toddler handling the cargo.

Along the left side of the aisle, three broad-shouldered silhouettes held the front row. Hunter flashed a proud, toothy grin, his eyes reflecting the afternoon sun. Brock gave a subtle, encouraging nod, his massive chest expanding under a tailored navy suit. Dane simply caught my eye, a relaxed, soft smile erasing his usual edge. An overwhelming wave of pure, unfiltered love hit my chest, a physical warmth that validated every single bizarre choice leading to this exact coordinate.

The transition to the reception venue happened under a canopy of fairy lights and the smell of roasting garlic. David and Seth intercepted us near the edge of the polished oak dance floor, champagne flutes in hand and faces flushed from the celebration.

"He didn't drop them once," David beamed, leaning down to plant a soft kiss on Liam’s cheek as the toddler clung to my shoulder. "Absolute professional."

"The kid has excellent training," Seth added, clinking his glass against mine with a brilliant grin. "Look at his security detail."

The three men integrated into our circle with a practiced, seamless efficiency. Brock took Liam from my arms, tossing the giggling toddler into the air before settling him securely against his broad shoulder.

Hunter’s arm slung casually over my waist, pulling my back flush against his chest, while Dane stepped up to press a warm, lingering kiss against the side of my neck.

The brass band launched into a slow, classic jazz standard, the rhythm pulling the crowd toward the center of the floor. David and Seth drifted off to play hosts, leaving the four of us wrapped in our own private orbit.

"You did good up there," Hunter murmured into my hair, his grip tightening around my waist as we swayed to the music.

"We did good," the correction came out soft as my fingers threaded through Dane’s hand, my eyes tracking the way Liam resting his head on Brock’s shoulder looked natural. The old, sharp armor I used to survive the world felt entirely obsolete. Peace looked exactly like this.