Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Inspiration:

February 2022

The Missouri Botanical Garden is alive with bursts of colour and an unmistakable energy, the air humming with the excitement of a wedding day. Rows of white chairs stand perfectly aligned on the lush emerald lawn, framed by a kaleidoscope of colourful blooming flowers. Beyond the ceremony space, an elegant open-air marquee awaits, its sheer drapes billowing softly in the breeze. The winter sunshine casts a soft, golden glow over the greenery, offering just enough warmth to make the crisp air bearable.

At the entrance to the garden, Amy and Jonah arrive with Emma and Parker in tow. Amy and Emma glow in their matching bridesmaid dresses, elegant gowns that fade from deep emerald at the bodice to a soft pastel green at the hem. Over their dresses, they wear white shawls, a practical necessity against the biting cold. Amy walks with an easy grace, one hand brushing lightly against her belly, while Emma strides, her sharp brown eyes scanning the scene. 

A few steps behind them, Jonah trails with Parker, who clutches his hand tightly. The toddler is dressed in a tiny sage-green tuxedo that perfectly matches the wedding’s colour scheme. His wide eyes dart around in awe, taking in the unfamiliar scene. 

“Wow, this is…” Amy begins, her voice trailing off as her gaze sweeps across the beautifully decorated garden. Her tone is filled with admiration, but her words falter mid-thought when her eyes land on her mother.

In full wedding-planner mode, Connie stands a few feet away, gesturing wildly at a vendor who is precariously unloading floral arrangements from the back of a van.

“No, no, no! That goes over there, near the altar! ” Connie’s voice cuts through the gentle hum of the garden, sharp and commanding. She waves both arms in a flurry of agitation, stepping closer to the vendor to emphasise her point. The poor man nods quickly, looking flustered as he redirects the arrangements to the correct location.

Connie spins around, her sharp expression softening slightly when her eyes fall on Amy and Emma. Her brisk movements turn purposeful as she crosses the lawn toward them, her face lighting up with a touch of warmth, though the stress of orchestrating the event is still evident in the faint crease of her brow.

“Oh, thank God you’re here!” Connie exclaims, throwing her hands up in a theatrical display of relief. She barely spares Jonah a glance before zeroing in on her daughters. “Mija, I need you to help with the seating chart—it’s all wrong! And, Emma, can you check the flower girl’s basket and make sure it has enough petals? I swear, nothing is going right today!”

Amy nods, her expression calm and practiced, as though Connie’s frantic energy barely registers. “Okay, I’ll handle it. Just breathe, Mom. It’s all going to be fine.”

Jonah clears his throat, stepping forward tentatively. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

Connie pauses, her gaze snapping to him. For a moment, she doesn’t respond—just long enough to make Jonah immediately regret asking. Her lips press into a tight, thin line before she offers a smile so brittle it might crack. “Oh, no, Jonah. It’s best you… stay out of the way. Don’t worry, we’ve got it covered.”

Jonah blinks, his face heating up under the weight of her words. He takes an awkward half-step back, feeling the familiar sting of Connie’s subtle dismissal. Beside him, Emma shoots him a sympathetic glance. This isn’t the first time he’s been on the receiving end of Connie’s disapproval, with Connie shooting passive-aggressive comments to Jonah throughout Christmas. Amy’s Father, Ron, had warmed back up to Jonah fairly quickly after he and Amy reunited, but Connie was a different story.

It all goes back to Emma’s quinceañera. Jonah’s chest tightens as he glances at some of the relatives now arriving - faces he recognises from that chaotic night three years ago. He’s sure they still see him as the guy who ruined Emma’s father-daughter dance and caused a scene. None of them know the real story, of course - that Emma had been high, and that Jonah was trying to shield her from humiliating herself in front of the entire family. 

Amy steps closer to him, her hand brushing his arm in a brief, grounding gesture. “I’ll be back soon,” she says, her voice light but reassuring. “Try not to overthink it, okay?”

Jonah watches as Amy walks off with Connie. He lets out a quiet sigh, his shoulders slumping slightly.

Emma lingers beside him, looking slightly guilty. “She’ll get over it eventually,” she says in an effort to comfort Jonah. 

Jonah lets out a dry laugh. “How long do you think it'll take? I mean, it’s been three years,” he says.

Emma winces, her mouth twisting into an apologetic grimace. “Yeah, I don't know...”

The two stand in silence for a moment, the lively bustle of the garden filling the gap between them. A florist rushes past, balancing an enormous bouquet of pastel pink and white roses. In the distance, the faint, tentative notes of a harp being tuned drift through the air.

Jonah shifts awkwardly, his free hand brushing at his tie like it’s suddenly too tight. Emma glances down at her dress, brushing off invisible lint with the distracted air of someone who doesn’t quite know what to say. She can tell Jonah is anxious, but she’s not sure how to make it better.

"Emma!" Connie calls, an exasperated edge to her voice. 

“Oh, right - the flower girl,” Emma says suddenly, breaking the silence. She gives Jonah a quick pat on the shoulder before turning to walk off, her emerald dress swishing softly as she heads toward the far side of the lawn.

Jonah watches her go, left standing alone amidst the growing crowd. 

***

Amy knocks lightly on the door to the room where Eric is getting ready, her hand lingering on the frame before she pushes it open. Sunlight streams through the tall windows, flooding the room with a golden glow and reflecting off the polished wood floors. Eric stands in front of a full-length mirror, adjusting the sage-green tie that perfectly complements his blush-coloured suit. He catches her eye in the reflection, and a grin spreads across his face.

“Well, if it isn’t my favourite sister,” Eric says, turning with a flourish and holding out his arms dramatically as though presenting himself on a stage. “What do you think?”

Amy chuckles, stepping into the room. “Don’t let Reyna hear you say that,” she teases, referencing their older sister, her voice warm with affection. She walks over and gives him a quick hug, the scent of his cologne faintly familiar as she wraps her arms around him. Stepping back, she looks him over with a critical but playful eye. “You look great. Very handsome. Mateo’s going to lose it when he sees you.”

“Good,” Eric replies, his grin softening into something more genuine. “Because I’m pretty sure I’m gonna lose it when I see him.” He steps back towards the mirror, smoothing his lapels with a careful hand. The nervous energy in his movements betrays his excitement, though the grin tugging at the corners of his mouth never wavers. “And you look great, too. Cheyenne really nailed it with those dresses.”

Amy glances down at the soft, flowing fabric of her bridesmaid dress. “Yeah, she did.”

“How are you feeling?” Eric asks, gesturing toward the small settee by the window.

Amy straightens her shoulders as she sits, tucking the fabric of her dress beneath her. Her smile becomes more genuine, her posture relaxed. “Good, actually. Not too nauseous today.”

“You sure?” Eric presses, a hint of concern crossing his features as he sits down beside her. “Because, seriously, if you’re not feeling up to this, you can leave anytime. I don’t care what anyone says.”

Amy’s heart warms at his sincerity, and she nods. “Thank you, but I really am fine. I wouldn’t miss this for the world.”

Eric leans back slightly, his posture relaxing. “Good.”

Amy tilts her head, studying her brother. “So, how are you feeling? Nervous? Excited?”

“Both,” Eric admits, letting out a small laugh. “It’s kind of overwhelming, you know? But in a good way.”

Amy smiles knowingly. “You’re gonna be great.”

Eric glances at her, his expression softening further. “Did I ever thank you for setting us up?”

Amy’s eyebrows lift, a playful grin spreading across her face. “No, I don’t think you did,” she says, leaning back against the cushions. “This whole thing is allll happening because of me, isn’t it?”

Eric groans, rolling his eyes in mock annoyance. “I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“Oh, don’t worry,” Amy says, her grin widening. “It’s already coming up in my speech.”

Eric lets out a dramatic groan. Amy laughs, the sound light and genuine, and the two fall into an easy silence. The muffled sounds of the garden - footsteps, laughter, the faint hum of conversation - float in through the window, fill the quiet space. After a moment, Amy stands, brushing imaginary wrinkles from her dress as she glances toward the door. “Alright, I should get back before Mom starts panicking about the seating chart again.”

Eric raises an eyebrow. “She freaking out?”

“She’s this close to a breakdown,” Amy says, holding up her thumb and forefinger with barely a sliver of space between them. “And she’s already managed to make Jonah feel bad. We’d barely been here 5 minutes before she told him to ‘stay out of the way’.”

Eric winces. “Oof. Well, she’ll probably chill out once the ceremony’s over.”

“Yeah, hopefully,” Amy says, her tone wry but fond. She steps toward the door, pausing to look back at him. “Okay, I’ll see you out there!”

Eric stands, adjusting his tie one last time as he flashes her a grin. “See you. And remember, you’ve got an out if you need it.”

Amy smiles, stepping closer to give him one last quick hug. “You’ve got this,” she says softly, her voice full of quiet confidence.

Eric nods, his grin softening into something more heartfelt. “Thanks, sis.”

***

Jonah stands awkwardly near the edge of the lawn, pretending to admire the flower arrangements as guests trickle in. His eyes flick across the garden to Amy’s dad, who holds Parker in one arm while chatting animatedly with a group of relatives. Jonah shifts uncomfortably, tugging at his collar, feeling as if his tie is suddenly too tight.

“Hey, man,” a familiar voice says behind him. Jonah turns to see Garrett rolling toward him in his wheelchair, with Dina strutting beside him. Garrett is dressed in a dark green suit, while Dina is wearing a head-turning sparkly emerald bodycon dress that shimmers in the sunlight, drawing more than a few double-takes from passing guests.

“Well, isn’t this the perfect superspreader event?” Dina says dryly, her voice cutting through the low hum of conversation around them. She’s leaning against a pillar, arms crossed, her sharp gaze scanning the crowd like a hawk looking for its next target.

Jonah exhales, visibly relieved to see some familiar faces. “Hey, guys.”

“Hiding from the in-laws?” Garrett teases, giving Jonah a knowing look. 

“I’m not hiding ,” Jonah shoots back, a little too quickly, failing to hide his defensive tone.

“Sure,” Garrett replies, dragging the word out with exaggerated disbelief. He gestures vaguely to the corner Jonah had been standing in. “You’re just, what? Strategically blending into the plants?”

Jonah opens his mouth to retort, but Dina cuts him off with a laugh. “Who can blame him after he ruined Emma’s quinceañera?” she says. “Man, that was embarrassing.”

Jonah pointedly ignores her jab, his jaw tightening. “So, how was the drive over?” he asks, his voice a little too bright in his effort to steer the focus elsewhere.

“Uneventful,” Garrett says with a shrug, swirling his drink lazily. “Unless you count Dina getting into a fight with Siri.”

Dina’s head snaps toward him, her jaw tightening. “You promised not to bring that up.”

“I promised nothing,” Garrett replies, his smirk widening into a grin that practically dares her to escalate.

Dina narrows her eyes, clearly preparing a scathing comeback, but before she can get the words out, Garrett’s attention shifts. “Oh, Marcus is here.”

Jonah and Dina both follow his gaze, their conversations momentarily forgotten.

“I thought he was only invited to the reception,” Dina says, her brow furrowing as she watches Marcus standing with a group of Mateo’s family.

“Yeah, Mateo’s aunt insisted he be a groomsman,” Jonah explains.

They all watch as Marcus chats animatedly with Mateo’s relatives, his voice carrying over the crowd just enough for Jonah to catch snippets of what sounds like fluent Tagalog. The family around Marcus bursts into laughter at something he says.

“Huh,” Dina says, raising an eyebrow as she observes the scene. “You know, sometimes I forget Marcus used to live with Mateo.”

“This is just bizarre,” Garrett mutters, shaking his head as if trying to make sense of what he’s seeing.

“I mean, it’s kind of impressive,” Jonah says, his tone grudgingly respectful as his gaze lingers on Marcus. “It took him - what, a month to become fluent?”

They stand there for a moment, watching Marcus seamlessly navigate the conversation like he’s been part of the family for years.

The moment is interrupted by Cheyenne’s arrival, with Bo and Harmonica trailing behind her. Cheyenne looks radiant in her green bridesmaid dress, the fabric flowing with every step, her blonde hair styled in effortless loose curls. Harmonica, wearing a blush-pink flower girl dress, looks around the venue with a judgmental look on her face.

Bo follows at a slower pace, his hands in his pockets. He’s wearing a blue blazer over a plain white T-shirt and black slacks - a surprisingly polished look, albeit casual. It’s far more appropriate than anyone expected, anyway. 

“Yo, this place is dope!” Bo calls out, throwing his arms wide. His voice is loud enough to draw a few glances from across the room, but he doesn’t seem to notice - or care. “You think they’ll let me DJ?”

“Yeah, probably!” Cheyenne says. “But maybe wait until after Mateo’s had a few tequila shots.” 

Harmonica tugs on her mom’s dress. “Mommy, I wanna play Roblox!” she pouts, her lower lip sticking out in a way that’s almost too adorable to resist.

Bo crouches down to her level, his expression mock-serious. “Nah, girl, you don’t play Roblox at a wedding - you get hyped !” With that, he scoops her up and spins her around in one fluid motion. Harmonica’s squeals of delight echo through the room, her giggles infectious. 

The scene is a swirl of energy and laughter when Glenn and Jerusha make their entrance, each of them holding hands with Rose. Their expressions are a mix of awe and delight as they take in the grandeur of the venue. 

“Hey everyone!” Glenn greets. “Oh, can you believe Mateo’s getting married?” His voice is trembling with emotion, hands clasp together as though he’s witnessing a miracle, his eyes already glistening.

As the two of them stand there, taking in the scene, Harmonica’s giggles rise again as Bo spins her one last time before setting her down. She stumbles slightly, but she quickly steadies herself, her face flushed with joy. “Again!” she demands, her tiny hands reaching up toward Bo.

“Later, kiddo,” Bo says with a grin, ruffling her hair. “Gotta save some energy for the dance floor.”

Rose, who is dressed in a pink, poofy dress, bolts from Jerusha’s side, making a beeline toward Parker, who perks up the moment he sees her. Within seconds, the two kids are darting around the garden, their laughter ringing out like tiny bells.

Jonah winces as Parker veers dangerously close to the dessert table, one small hand nearly knocking over a precariously perched tray of macarons. But before disaster can strike, his Grandpa Ron swoops in, lifting Parker high into the air in one smooth motion, the boy squealing with delight. Jonah smiles fondly. 

Amy appears next, her arrival marked by a visible sense of relief as she finally manages to escape her mother’s relentless fussing. Her shoulders relax as she steps onto the lawn, her presence immediately drawing everyone’s attention. 

“Yo, Amy! What’s up?” Bo’s enthusiastic voice cuts through the hum of conversation as he bounces Harmonica in his arms, her giggles punctuating his words. 

Amy’s smile widens, her face lighting up as her eyes sweep over the group. “Hey, guys!” she says warmly, her tone genuine and welcoming. “You’re all here!”

“You look amazing!” Cheyenne exclaims, stepping closer with a beam that could rival the sun. Her gaze flickers to Amy’s bump, and she gasps dramatically. “And you’ve popped , girl! Look at you!”

Amy lets out a small laugh, shaking her head. “I know,” she says with a sigh. “I’ve officially reached that point where none of my clothes fit anymore.”

The conversation flows easily, and around them, the garden hums with life - guests mingling under the shade of the trees, the faint strains of soft music drifting from the speakers near the floral arch, and children weaving between chairs in bursts of energy. The warm breeze carries the scent of roses and freshly cut grass, wrapping the moment in a sense of serenity.

“Yo, Jonah,” Bo says suddenly. He points at Jonah with exaggerated enthusiasm, his grin wide and mischievous. “You and me. Reception time. Karaoke. I’m thinking ‘Bohemian Rhapsody.’ It’s happening .”

Jonah blinks. “Oh, uh, I really don’t think that’s my thing–”

“Better start warming up those pipes, bro!” Bo interrupts, undeterred by Jonah’s hesitation. He’s already miming a microphone in his hand, his voice rising dramatically as he leans into the performance.

Jonah chuckles nervously, his hand drifting to rub the back of his neck. “Yeah, uh - I’ll think about it.”

Dina smirks, her arms crossed as she tilts her head toward Jonah. “I think Jonah’s trying to avoid any more humiliating moments in front of the family. Right, Jonah?” she teases.

Jonah forces out a laugh, but the sound is thin and strained. Amy doesn’t miss the way his shoulders tense slightly, his posture stiffening like he’s bracing himself for another round of barbs.

“Speaking of family,” Garrett interjects, his voice casual as he gestures toward Connie in the distance. She’s hunched over a floral arrangement, frantically repositioning it with the intensity of someone trying to defuse a bomb. “Is your mom okay? Because she’s giving off some serious ‘wedding planner gone rogue’ vibes.”

“We saw her yelling at a centerpiece earlier,” Dina adds. “It was giving full-on Joan Crawford, ‘No more wire hangers!’ energy.”

Amy shakes her head, letting out a laugh that’s equal parts amused and resigned. “She’ll be fine as soon as this is over. She just needs to survive until the vows are done.” 

The group’s laughter ripples through the air before the conversation naturally shifts to Glenn’s hardware store and its upcoming grand re-opening. Amy nods along with the chatter but her focus subtly shifts to Jonah, who has gone unusually quiet. His gaze is fixed on a spot across the lawn, his expression distant. 

Amy steps closer, her movements deliberate but unassuming, her expression softening as she tilts her head slightly to catch his eye. “You doing okay?” she asks gently, her voice low enough to cut through the noise without drawing attention.

Jonah hesitates, his eyes flicking to hers for a brief moment before settling somewhere over her shoulder. He looks like he’s weighing his answer, debating whether to brush it off or let her in. “Yeah, I’m fine,” he says finally, but his tone is flat, the words carrying none of the conviction they need.

Amy doesn’t press him. Instead, she gives him a knowing look, silently telling him she’s not buying it. Without a word, she reaches out and gives his hand a gentle squeeze. It’s a small gesture, but it carries a weight that words can’t. Jonah lets out a quiet sigh, the tension in his shoulders softening just slightly. He casts her a sidelong glance, the faintest hint of gratitude flickering in his eyes.

They don’t need to say anything. The silent exchange between them, filled with understanding and quiet reassurance, is enough.

***

The garden falls into a hush as the harpist transitions into a soft, elegant melody, signaling the start of the ceremony. Guests settle into their seats, the faint rustle of fabric and shifting chairs the only sounds as everyone turns their attention to the aisle. The floral archway at the altar frames the scene perfectly, its pastel blooms glowing softly in the sunlight.

Amy, Emma, Cheyenne, and the rest of the bridesmaids - Amy and Eric’s older sister, Reyna, and one of Mateo’s cousins - begin their procession down the aisle. Their dresses cascade like waterfalls, the soft fabric catching the light with each step. The colours of their gowns complement the garden’s blooming backdrop, creating a picture-perfect moment that feels almost ethereal.

Then comes Harmonica, the sassiest flower girl in wedding history. Her tulle skirt bounces with every step as she marches down the aisle like she owns it. She tosses flower petals with exaggerated flair, her tiny hand sweeping dramatically through the air as if she’s sprinkling magic dust over the crowd. Halfway down, she adds a little twirl, her curls bouncing as she spins, drawing a ripple of laughter and delighted murmurs from the guests. 

“That’s my girl!” Bo calls out, looking proud. 

“She’s really selling it,” Garrett whispers, his smirk widening as he leans back slightly in his chair.

“She’s definitely Cheyenne’s daughter,” Jonah says with a smile, his voice tinged with both amusement and affection.

Next comes Parker, the tiniest ring bearer with the biggest job of the day.

The crowd collectively melts as the little boy toddles down the aisle, clutching a small satin pillow with the rings tied securely to it. He clutches the pillow with both hands, his brow furrowed in concentration. 

Halfway down the aisle, Parker falters. He pauses, wide-eyed as he takes in the sea of faces turned toward him. He looks back over his shoulder toward Jonah, his expression uncertain, his little feet shifting nervously. 

Jonah leans forward slightly, his voice warm and encouraging. “Go, buddy, you got this!” he calls out, giving Parker an encouraging smile and a small thumbs-up.

That seems to do the trick, and Parker resumes his march down the aisle, his steps a bit more determined now. The crowd murmurs their approval, a few quiet chuckles rippling through as he reaches the front and hands off the pillow with a solemnity that makes even the officiant smile.

Finally, the music shifts, a soft yet triumphant melody floating through the garden, signaling the moment everyone has been waiting for. The guests instinctively rise from their seats, their attention shifting toward the aisle as the grooms prepare to make their entrance.

Eric appears first. His pale pink suit is a striking contrast against the vibrant greenery of the garden, the soft hue catching the golden afternoon light. His confident stride is accompanied by a warm, boyish grin, though there’s a slight awkwardness to his posture, as if he’s not entirely sure what to do with his hands. Jonah can’t help but smile knowingly—he’s always known that the grandeur of a big wedding was more Mateo’s dream than Eric’s. But even so, there’s a quiet charm in the way Eric carries himself, his love for Mateo evident in the way his eyes sparkle as he approaches the altar.

Then Mateo appears.

Dressed in a perfectly tailored sage-green suit with a blush pink tie that mirrors Eric’s, Mateo looks every bit the perfect groom. His broad smile lights up his entire face, radiating a mix of excitement and barely-contained nerves. As he walks down the aisle, his eyes dart briefly to the crowd, his expression wide-eyed and almost incredulous, as if he’s silently thinking, I can’t believe this is actually happening. Eric’s grin widens as their gazes lock.

“They look like they’re straight out of a Pinterest board,” Dina says. 

The ceremony begins, officiated by a priest whose warm demeanor instantly puts everyone at ease. He weaves humor and sentimentality seamlessly, sharing anecdotes about love and partnership that feel personal without veering into saccharine territory. His words strike a perfect balance, drawing laughter and soft smiles from the guests while setting the tone for the heartfelt vows to come.

When it’s time for Mateo and Eric to exchange their vows, the garden falls into a reverent silence. Their voices tremble slightly at first, but each word is spoken with such raw sincerity that it cuts straight to the heart of everyone present. By the time they finish, there’s hardly a dry eye in the crowd. Jonah catches himself blinking a little too quickly, discreetly wiping at the corner of his eye. 

The garden seems to hold its breath for a beat, the weight of the moment settling over everyone, before the priest smiles warmly and announces, “You may now kiss your husband.” The applause that follows is thunderous, filled with joy and celebration, marking the beginning of a new chapter.

Jonah stands among the crowd, clapping along with everyone else, but his gaze drifts momentarily to Amy. She’s watching Mateo and Eric with glistening eyes, her hands pressed together in front of her. The sunlight catches her hair, and for a second, Jonah swears the world slows down.

A smile tugs at the corners of his lips as the realisation settles over him - this will be them one day soon. He doubts it’ll be anything as extravagant as this - no harpist, no ornate venue - but he knows it’ll be just as magical in its own way, and he can hardly wait. 

Chapter Text

Inspiration:

After the ceremony, the guests make their way to the marquee for the reception. String lights twinkle overhead, casting a warm, golden glow over elegantly decorated tables adorned with soft greenery and candles. The faint aroma of dinner mingles with the scent of fresh flowers as laughter, clinking glasses, and chatter fill the air.

As the final plates of dinner are cleared, Garrett - who, of course, has been appointed DJ - leans into the mic with his signature dry tone. “Ladies and gentlemen, it’s time for the speeches! Please give your attention to our first speaker of the evening, Mateo’s maid of honour, Cheyenne Lee!”

The crowd applauds as Cheyenne jumps to her feet, smiling brightly. 

“Hey, everyone!” Cheyenne says, her tone light and playful as she adjusts the mic. “For those of you who don’t already know, my name is Cheyenne - AKA the better half of ‘Chateo.’”

“You wish, bitch!” Mateo calls out from the head table, grinning. A ripple of laughter spreads through the marquee, and Cheyenne smirks, not missing a beat.

“Mateo and I go way back,” she continues. “Well, it probably doesn’t feel that way to him because he’s, like, way older, but for me, it feels like forever.”

The guests laugh again, while Mateo rolls his eyes, unable to hide his smile.

Cheyenne then launches into an uncharacteristically heartfelt speech, recounting funny and touching stories from their years working together at Cloud 9. She paints a picture of their enduring friendship, and by the time Cheyenne finishes, there’s hardly a dry eye in the room.

“To Eric and Mateo!” Cheyenne says, raising her glass with a radiant smile.

The guests cheer and raise their glasses in a toast, the marquee buzzing with warmth and love. Mateo dabs at his eyes with a napkin and stands to hug Cheyenne tightly. “Thank you,” he whispers, his voice thick with emotion.

Garrett’s voice cuts through the applause, his grin audible through the mic. “Thank you, Cheyenne! And now, for Eric’s maid of honour, the one and only Amy Sosa!”

The guests applaud as Amy rises to her feet, shooting Eric a look that’s equal parts teasing and affectionate.

“Hey, everyone,” she begins. “Honestly, I have no idea why Eric asked me to do this. I think he just wanted an excuse to force me to say nice things about him in front of a crowd - which was a mistake!”

The room chuckles warmly, and Eric shakes his head, smirking.

“Eric is - and I’m sure Reyna can back me up on this - the most annoying little brother a girl could ever ask for,” Amy says, grinning as the guests laugh.

“When we were kids, Eric was the ultimate tattletale, he was always asking us for money, and he had this god awful 'prankster' phase. One of his masterpieces was burning Reyna’s name into one of her favourite dresses using a magnifying glass. He was very proud of that one, by the way.”

The guests laugh, and Amy pauses for effect, her grin widening. 

“And then there was the time he decided to make us all cupcakes. Which, looking back, should’ve been an immediate red flag because Eric never baked anything. He’d decorated them so nicely, too - but instead of frosting, he used toothpaste. I took one bite, and he laughed so hard he fell off his chair.” She raises an eyebrow. “Of course, he also managed to hit his head and needed seven stitches, and he’s never baked anything since!”

The guests laugh, and Eric groans, covering his face with his hands, though he’s clearly fighting back a smile.

“But,” Amy continues, her voice softening, “as much as he annoyed me - and, believe me, he still does - Eric has always been one of the kindest, most thoughtful people I know. He’s the guy who always shows up, who knows how to make you laugh when you’re down, and who will always have your back, no matter what. I couldn’t have asked for a better brother.”

The crowd lets out a collective “Aww,” and Eric looks touched, his grin breaking through.

“Now, Mateo,” Amy says, turning her attention to him with a teasing smirk. “Where do I even begin? I learned a lot about Mateo over the six years that we worked together. For one, he’s incredibly competitive. You do not want to be on the opposing team in anything. He’s also brutally honest. If you’re having a bad hair day, he’ll be the first to let you know. Which, apparently, for me, was every day.”

The guests laugh, and Mateo nods in agreement, shrugging with an exaggerated “What can I say?” expression.

Amy shakes her head, grinning. “But here’s the thing about Mateo: for all the sass and all the competitiveness, he is also one of the hardest-working people I have ever met. If you needed something done - and done perfectly - Mateo was your guy. He’s meticulous, he’s determined, and he puts his whole heart into everything he does.”

She pauses, glancing toward Eric with a knowing smile. “Which is why he’s the perfect match for Eric. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Eric’s house as tidy as it’s been since Mateo came into his life.”

Mateo nods emphatically and Eric slaps him playfully on the shoulder. 

“Now, I think I deserve some credit - okay, all the credit - for these two getting together,” she says, gesturing between Eric and Mateo. “I had been trying to set them up for years, but the timing was never quite right. Then, finally, I brought Eric to the store where Mateo was working, and I knew there was something there. Eric got all cute and awkward–”

Eric groans, burying his face in his hands, as the room cracks up.

“–so I spent the entire day trying to get them to talk to each other. I even got Eric to install a shelf in the Vision Center where Mateo worked, thinking it’d give them a chance to bond, but the idiots barely spoke a word to each other.”

The guests laugh harder, and Mateo rolls his eyes dramatically.

“Eventually,” Amy continues, smirking, “after some gentle probing–”

“She means a full-on meltdown,” Mateo interjects, drawing more laughter.

“–they finally hit it off, and the rest is history,” Amy finishes, lifting her glass of sparkling apple juice in its champagne flute. “So, Eric, Mateo… You’re welcome!”

The warmth of the moment lingers as the rest of the speeches follow, including one from Marcus, who stands confidently with a microphone in hand, a mix of Tagalog and English spilling from his mouth in a speech that somehow manages to be deeply moving, leaving half the room is left in tears. 

Finally, as the last toast is raised and the applause dies down, the couple is ushered toward the center of the room, where the wedding cake waits in all its frosted glory. The cake, an elegant yet understated two-tier masterpiece, is adorned with delicate floral accents and a topper of two tiny figurines that look suspiciously like Eric and Mateo. 

Eric picks up the knife first, grinning nervously as Mateo adjusts his grip to make sure it’s angled just right. As the knife slices through the first layer, the room erupts into cheers and applause, cameras flashing to capture the moment. Eric, ever the jokester, swipes a small dollop of frosting onto his finger and smears it on Mateo’s nose, earning a mock gasp of indignation from his husband.

Mateo glares, but the corners of his mouth twitch upward. “You’re lucky I love you,” he mutters, grabbing a napkin to clean his face.

Their playful banter fills the marquee with laughter once more, and as the first slice of cake is served, the celebration continues. 

Soon, the lights dim slightly, and a joyful hush falls over the room as Garrett announces, “Ladies and gentlemen, it’s time for the first dance!”

A spotlight shines on the dance floor as the couple steps forward, hand in hand. The opening notes of Beyoncé’s “Love On Top” start to play, and the crowd erupts into cheers and whistles. Amy walks over to where Jonah is sitting with Parker, and pulls up a chair next to them as they watch. Jonah smiles, looking a lot more relaxed than he did earlier, and Parker claps his hands, thoroughly enjoying watching his uncles dance. By the time the first key change hits, they’re both fully in sync, twirling and laughing as the crowd claps along to the beat.

As the song builds to its euphoric finale, Mateo, ever the perfectionist, executes a flawless spin, pulling Eric in close for a dramatic dip. Breathless and laughing, Eric and Mateo straighten up, exchanging a quick kiss before turning to their guests, who are now on their feet, inviting everyone to the dance floor. 

The crowd laughs as the upbeat music transitions into a party anthem, and guests flood the dance floor, ready to keep the celebration going. Amy and Jonah exchange a grin as they spot more of their old Cloud 9 crew joining the fun, many of whom were only invited to the reception. Sandra sways happily with Jerry, Sayid surprises everyone with unexpectedly smooth moves, and Justine is already flailing dramatically to the beat, narrowly avoiding knocking over a centerpiece.

Soon, Amy’s parents and Emma join them at the table, along with Amy’s older sister Reyna and her 20-year-old son, Marco.

“That was a beautiful speech, mija, ” Ron says warmly, pulling Amy into a tight embrace.

“Yes, it was lovely,” Connie adds, her words slightly slurred as she nurses her third margarita.

“It’s clear who the favourite sister is,” Reyna teases, flashing a good-natured smile as she sips her mojito. Her tone is light, and there’s no bitterness behind the comment. Reyna, being seven years older than Amy and nine years older than Eric, has always had a bit of an age gap with her siblings, which naturally meant there was a bit more distance between them. 

The family settles into easy conversation, reminiscing and joking as the music plays in the background. Jonah, however, finds himself shifting uncomfortably in his chair, clearly feeling a little out of place amidst the familial chatter.

Amy notices immediately, her eyes flicking to him. He offers her a small, reassuring smile, but she knows him too well to let it slide.

“Come on, let’s dance,” Amy says, standing up and holding her hand out to her fiancé with an encouraging smile, her eyes sparkling under the soft glow of the marquee lights.

Jonah chuckles softly, though his hesitation is clear. “Hmm, I don’t know. What do you think the odds are that I trip and knock over the cake?”

Amy opens her mouth to respond, but before she can, Connie jumps in and says, “Pretty high, I’d say.”

Amy lets out an exasperated sigh, rolling her eyes. “Mom, come on–”

Jonah quickly interjects, “Amy, it’s fine,” he says, trying to brush it off. 

But Amy isn’t having it. She shakes her head, her patience visibly wearing thin. “No, enough is enough. I am sick of you taking digs at Jonah over something that happened nearly four years ago!”

Jonah winces. He’s grateful for her defense, but he knows where this is heading. He can practically feel the tension radiating from the table and the way Connie’s expression hardens as she sets her margarita down with a deliberate clink.

“It may have been three years ago, mija, but it was your own daughter’s quinceañera!” Connie retorts, her voice rising as her margarita-fueled indignation takes over. “And thanks to him, poor Emma never got to have her father-daughter dance!”

Amy opens her mouth, ready to defend Jonah, but she doesn’t get the chance.

“No, thanks to him, I didn’t make a complete fool of myself in front of my entire extended family!” Emma suddenly snaps, cutting through the conversation with sharp exasperation.

Amy’s head whips toward her daughter in surprise. Jonah freezes in place, his wide eyes darting between Emma and her grandparents like a deer caught in headlights. 

Ron and Connie both swivel toward Emma, their confusion written plainly on their faces. Ron’s brow furrows deeply, his voice tentative but curious. “What do you mean, mija? ”

Emma groans, throwing her hands up in frustration. “I was high, okay?”

“What?” Connie snaps, her voice cutting through the air like a whip. The margarita she’d been nursing is now entirely forgotten as her jaw drops.

“What do you mean you were high?” Ron demands, leaning forward slightly, his tone a mixture of disbelief and dismay. It’s as though he needs to get physically closer to comprehend what he’s hearing.

“Okay, buddy, let’s go get you some more cake,” Jonah says quickly, scooping up Parker from his seat, determined to shield the toddler from hearing any more of the conversation. 

Emma sighs, her frustration mounting as she sees the incredulous expressions on her grandparents’ faces. But she doesn’t back down. “Marco brought a weed pen to my quinceañera,” she says flatly, gesturing toward her cousin.

All eyes snap to Marco, who freezes mid-sip of his soda, his wide-eyed expression betraying his guilt. Reyna turns to her son slowly, her glare cutting through him like a knife. Her voice is low and venomous. “You what?"

Marco shrinks in his seat, his face flushing bright red as he stammers, “I-I didn’t–”

Emma cuts him off, her voice rising slightly as she presses on, ignoring the escalating tension. "I tried some, and I got high. On marijuana. And if Jonah hadn’t swooped in and helped me, my quinceañera really would have been ruined! So, stop giving him a hard time!”

Amy sits frozen for a moment, her hand running down her face as she processes everything. She feels a strange mix of pride in Emma for standing up for Jonah and utter mortification. Thankfully, the music is loud enough to keep most people from overhearing this train wreck of a conversation.

With a final huff, Emma storms out of the marquee, her heels clicking sharply against the polished floor and echoing in the sudden hush. All eyes follow her as she disappears through the fluttering drapes, leaving behind a trail of stunned silence and a palpable tension that seems to settle over the table like a heavy fog.

Connie and Ron remain frozen, their faces a perfect picture of shock - wide eyes, slackened jaws, and furrowed brows as they attempt to process what they’ve just heard. The seconds stretch unbearably, the muffled thrum of the party music in the background doing little to fill the void.

Finally, Connie breaks the silence, her voice sharp enough to cut through the air. “How could you two let this happen?” she demands, her gaze darting pointedly between her daughters.

Reyna groans audibly, slumping in her chair as she pinches the bridge of her nose in visible frustration.

Amy sighs heavily, sinking back into her chair as she folds her arms across her chest. Bracing herself for the inevitable lecture, she mutters under her breath, “Here we go…”

***

Jonah finds Emma sitting outside on one of the chairs by the wedding arch, where the ceremony had taken place earlier. The air is cooler now, with the sun dipping lower on the horizon, casting warm orange and pink hues across the sky. Emma’s white shawl is wrapped tightly around her shoulders, her posture slightly hunched as if trying to shield herself from more than just the chill in the air.

“Hey,” Jonah says softly, careful not to startle her.

Emma looks up and offers a weak smile. “Hey.”

Without a word, Jonah sits down beside her and hands her a slice of cake and a fork - a simple, silent gesture of gratitude. Emma takes it with a small, grateful nod. She digs in, taking a bite, and they sit together in comfortable silence for a moment, the distant hum of music and laughter from the reception drifting faintly through the air.

“So, exactly how angry are my grandparents?” Emma asks eventually, breaking the quiet.

Jonah chuckles lightly, leaning back in his chair. “Uh, I don’t know. Last I checked, your mom and Reyna were still getting lectured about their failure to parent.”

Emma groans, pressing her palm to her forehead. “I didn’t mean to cause a scene,” she says honestly, her voice tinged with regret. “I just couldn’t take the way she was treating you anymore.” 

Jonah glances at her, surprised by the admission. “Thanks, Em,” he says softly. Emma shrugs, brushing off the sentiment as she takes another bite of cake.

“So,” Emma says after a while, gesturing vaguely at the extravagant venue with her fork. “You think you’ll do something like this for yours and Mom’s wedding?”

Jonah huffs out a laugh, shaking his head. “Definitely not.”

Emma smiles at his response, her first genuine smile since the scene at the table. “Yeah, this is a lot,” she says, glancing around at the opulent decorations.

“I mean, it’s beautiful,” Jonah says, waving a hand toward the venue, “But just… not really our scene.” He pauses, a thoughtful look crossing his face. “Plus, your mom was saying she already had a big wedding when she married your dad, so… we’ll probably do something small. Like a wedding in our backyard or something.”

Emma nods, her smile softening. “That would be nice,” she says, her voice sincere. 

Jonah smiles back at her, and for a moment, they sit quietly again, watching the last streaks of sunlight melt into the horizon. The earlier tension feels like a distant memory now, replaced by a calm, shared understanding. A slight breeze rustles the nearby flowers on the wedding arch, and the faint sound of laughter and music drifts from the marquee behind them.

The calm is broken moments later, however, when they spot Connie emerging from the marquee, her figure silhouetted against the twinkling lights. She’s walking purposefully toward them, her expression unreadable.

“Oh god, oh god, oh god,” Emma mutters under her breath, quickly straightening in her chair. “Should we run?”

Jonah blinks, caught off guard. “Uh…”

Before he can finish, Connie reaches them. Emma sits up a little straighter, her shawl clutched tightly around her shoulders.

“Abuela–” Emma begins, but Connie raises a hand, cutting her off with a simple gesture.

“Go back inside and enjoy the party,” Connie says, her voice softer than either of them had been expecting. “People are wondering where you are.”

Emma hesitates, glancing at Jonah. He offers her a small nod of reassurance, and with a reluctant sigh, she stands.

“Okay,” Emma says quietly, making her way back toward the marquee.

Connie turns her attention to Jonah, and he shifts uncomfortably in his chair. He’s unsure of what’s coming, and his mind races through the possibilities.

“I owe you an apology,” Connie says at last, her voice steady but tinged with something that sounds almost like regret.

Jonah blinks, startled. Of all the things he’d anticipated, this wasn’t one of them. “Oh, no, it’s fine, you didn’t know–”

“Please, let me speak,” Connie interrupts, holding up a hand. Her tone is firm but not unkind, and Jonah immediately closes his mouth, watching her intently.

“You’re right, I didn’t know,” Connie continues, her gaze meeting his directly. “But even so, I shouldn’t have given you such a hard time. Because, despite what happened at the quinceañera, you have been nothing but good to my daughter—far better than Adam ever was.” She pauses for a moment, as if weighing her next words carefully. “I see how happy you make her, and how much you care for her, and for Emma and Parker. And I have no doubt you’ll be a great father to your son when he arrives.”

Her voice softens as she adds, “I’ve been unfair to you. For that, I’m sorry.”

Jonah stares at her, stunned. He hadn’t expected this. The corners of his mouth lift into a small, genuine smile. “Thank you,” he says simply, his voice warm and sincere. “I appreciate you saying that.”

Connie nods, and for the first time, the tension between them seems to ease, with a mutual feeling of respect settling in its place.

“It’s cold,” Connie says after a moment, pulling her shawl tighter around her shoulders. “We should go back inside.”

Jonah nods, standing and brushing off his pants. As they walk back toward the marquee together, Jonah can’t help but feel like something has shifted, like he’s finally starting to belong in this family.

***

When Jonah steps back into the marquee, the hum of conversation and the upbeat music greet him, but his focus immediately lands on Amy. She catches his eye from across the room, her brows furrowing as she starts making her way toward him, her concern evident in the way she weaves through the crowd.

“Hey, are you okay?” she asks the moment she reaches him, her voice soft but urgent. “What did she–”

Before she can finish, Jonah cuts her off with a kiss. His hands cup her jaw gently, his thumbs brushing against her cheeks. For a moment, the noise of the party fades into the background, and all Amy can focus on is him. She kisses him back without hesitation, her arms wrapping around his neck as she leans into him, deepening the kiss. She doesn’t think she’ll ever get tired of this. 

When they finally pull away, their foreheads rest together for a brief moment. Jonah’s hands move to her waist, pulling her close, and Amy feels the gentle pressure of her small baby bump pressing between them.

“She apologised to me,” Jonah says, his voice soft but tinged with disbelief.

Amy’s eyes widen. “What?” she says, the word coming out in a mix of shock and confusion.

“I know,” Jonah says with a chuckle, shaking his head slightly as if he’s still processing it himself. “Come on, let’s dance - I’ll fill you in later.”

Amy searches his face for a moment, her concern giving way to a smile as she takes his outstretched hand. “Okay,” she says, her voice lighter now.

As Jonah leads her onto the dance floor, Amy feels a warmth spreading through her chest, a glow that seems to radiate from the inside out. Jonah pulls her into his arms, his hands resting lightly on her waist, and they sway gently to the rhythm of the music. The world around them blurs for a moment, the laughter and chatter of the party fading into the background. It’s just the two of them, moving as one, the weight of the evening lifting with every step.

Their quiet moment is interrupted by a burst of giggles, and they both glance over to see Parker and Rose on the dance floor nearby. The two children are "dancing" with unrestrained joy, which mostly involves bouncing, spinning, and occasionally falling into fits of laughter. Jonah chuckles, shaking his head.

“Look at those moves,” he says, grinning.

Amy laughs softly, her heart swelling at the sight. 

Not far from them, Bo and Cheyenne are spinning each other in exaggerated dips, their laughter loud and infectious. Harmonica dances beside them, her movements sharp, precise, and effortlessly cool. She could easily pass for a K-pop star with those moves, and it’s clear she knows it, her confidence radiating as she nails every step.

In the center of it all, Connie and Ron share a slow dance, their movements small but full of quiet affection. From time to time, Connie glances toward Jonah and Amy, her gaze softening in a way that feels almost like acceptance.

Amy leans her head against Jonah’s chest, letting out a contented sigh. The music shifts into a slower song, and the lights overhead dim slightly, casting a golden glow across the room. For the first time that day, Amy feels completely at peace.