Bonus Scene 1

Camden

The pub isn’t anything fancy—just a converted barn on the outskirts of Exeter, string lights twisted along the ceiling beams, a fire crackling in the old hearth, and someone’s playlist bouncing between retro pop and indie acoustic.

But it’s perfect. Because everyone’s here.

Brent’s family—jet-lagged and slightly overdressed—have taken over the corner booth near the bar, his mum already two glasses into a celebratory rosé and quizzing my brother about regional accents.

“I just think yours sounds more Shakespeare than Camden’s,” she says earnestly, leaning in. “Is that a West Midlands thing, or are you secretly in the theatre?”

My brother doesn’t quite know where to look.

Meanwhile, Cosmo’s flitting from group to group like a social butterfly in leather boots and a super-tight tee. At some point he stuck a glittery “Team Groom” badge on both Brent and me, and we haven’t been able to remove them without him popping up like a cursed sprite.

Tony and Calvin are over by the pool table, attempting to teach Rachel how to break like a pro. Judging by the gleam in her eye and the way Calvin’s dramatically covering his groin with both hands, it’s not going well.

And then there’s Lachie, leaning casually against the bar, a pint in one hand and his other arm draped around the shoulders of his partner. They’ve been joined at the hip all evening, which does something to my chest—seeing Lachie relaxed, happy, safe. It wasn’t always guaranteed.

“You planned this, didn’t you?” Brent murmurs, slipping up beside me.

I shrug, lips tugging upwards. “Maybe.”

Brent sips his drink, then tilts his head. “Even the part where my mom cornered your nan in the loo and now they’re planning joint Christmases?”

I chuckle. “Okay, that bit I didn’t plan.”

“Mm.” Brent slides an arm around my waist and presses a kiss behind my ear. “Still. Pretty amazing.”

I lean into Brent, not so subtly dipping my head and inhaling his fresh citrus scent. “Didn’t want to celebrate without them. Without you.”

He turns to me slightly, hand firm on his hip. “You did all this while playing eighty minutes of rugby and proposing to me in front of a full stadium?”

I smirk, feeling thoroughly damn proud of myself. “Yeah. I multitask when I’m in love.”

Brent exhales a laugh that’s half sigh, half swoon, then leans in. “So… how long do we have to stay before we can sneak out?”

I arch a brow. “Sneaking out on your own engagement party?”

“I have plans,” he murmurs, lips brushing my jaw. “Plans that involve you, no clothes, and at least one celebration blow job.”

A cough spills out of me, right into my pint. “Jesus Christ.”

“What? I’m romantic.”

“You’re shameless.”

“You love it.”

I do. I really, really do.

As the night stretches on—filled with too-loud toasts, impromptu dance-offs, and one suspiciously competitive trivia round hosted by Cosmo—I can’t help but grin so hard it aches.

This? This is everything. The team. The win. The man by my side. The family we’ve built and inherited.

And the rest of our lives starts now.

Bonus Scene 2

Brent

There are exactly four things I’m trying to keep together right now:

1. My suit.
2. My hair.
3. My brother Cosmo’s volume.
4. My composure.

I’m only winning on one of those. Maybe two, if you count “slightly tousled” as a hairstyle.

“Are you sweating?” Cosmo hisses, popping up like a caffeinated meerkat from behind a hedgerow. “Brent, this is not the vibe. Grooms don’t sweat this much. Not even in gay weddings.”

“Did you just say ‘gay weddings’ like we’re hosting a niche TikTok event?”

“Don’t change the subject. Where’s your handkerchief? Dab. Dab!”

I swat him away as delicately as I can manage while standing under a rose arch in a Devon garden with fifty of our closest friends and family—and one llama.

Okay. The llama was not our idea.

That was Lachie.

Apparently “it’s not a wedding without an emotional support animal,” and “the farm was already booked for another party, so we got the llama at a discount.” I’ve stopped asking questions at this point in my life.

But even with the weird animal cameos and the complete lack of breeze, I wouldn’t change a thing.

Because in about thirty seconds, Camden Crawford—the love of my life, my grumpy, talented, endlessly sexy rugby-playing fiancé—is about to walk down the aisle towards me. And I’ve never felt more ready for anything.

The string quartet (also Lachie’s idea, because he “knew a guy”) swells with the opening bars of “Can’t Help Falling in Love.” There’s a ripple of shifting chairs, and then… then I see him.

And everything stops.

Cam is—fuck, he’s beautiful. Strong lines softened by the summer light, navy suit tailored to within an inch of its life. No tie, just a few buttons undone at the collar, and that signature scowl-smile hybrid he wears when he’s trying not to be emotional.

He fails by the time he’s halfway up the aisle. His jaw clenches, and his eyes go all glassy. He doesn’t cry, though—he’s not a public crier—but he does look at me like I’m the only thing in the world that makes sense.

Cosmo mutters behind me, “You’re totally gonna ugly cry.”

He’s not wrong.

The ceremony’s short. Sweet. We wrote our own vows.

Cam clears his throat when it’s his turn. “You make me better,” he says simply. “Not because you ask me to be, but because you see me—even when I don’t. You’ve never tried to fix me. You just held the space until I wanted to step into it. I love you, and I want to choose you, every damn day.”

Someone sniffles. I think it’s my mom.

I go next. “I didn’t expect you. I definitely didn’t plan for you. But you took up space in my heart so fast, I didn’t have time to second-guess it. You’re fierce and loyal and generous in all the ways that matter. You call me on my shit and then hold me after. I love you. And if I ever forget to say it—just look at my face. It’ll be right there.”

We exchange rings, ignore Cosmo’s stage whisper of “Kiss him like you mean it!” and wrap the whole thing up with the most perfect, grounding kiss we’ve ever had.

It’s home.

It’s us.

* * *

The reception is low-key chaos, because of course it is.

Rachel’s managed to convince Calvin to choreograph a full wedding dance with backup dancers (the twins and all their partners, naturally). My mom gives a beautiful, tearjerking toast. Cam’s dad tells an inappropriate story involving Camden’s childhood crush on a lifeguard named Carl, which earns him a headshake and a glare that could sink a ship.

Lachie and his partner do a surprise poem toast. Cosmo somehow ends up as the officiant and the DJ. And the llama—now called Dennis—makes a return appearance in the group photos.

Later, under the fairy lights and half-melted candles, Cam pulls me into a slow dance. No cameras. No guests. Just us, swaying like the night can’t touch us.

“You good?” I murmur, fingers laced behind his neck.

He nods. “Best day of my life.”

“You didn’t even threaten anyone today. Proud of you.”

Cam huffs out a laugh and presses a kiss to my temple. “You’ve mellowed me.”

“God help us all.”

We don’t need to say much more than that. The day’s been full. The future is waiting.

But this moment? This is ours.

And it’s everything.