Falling Into Love with You (The Hate-Love Duet Book 2) by Rowe, Lauren (grave mercy .TXT) 📕

Epilogue Laila

Kendrick, as Savage’s best man, raises his champagne flute to Savage and me, and everyone in attendance at our small wedding, which we’re having at Reed’s sprawling home, follows suit.

“To Savage and Laila,” Kendrick says. “You two are perfect for each other. I sincerely believe that. Laila, you make Savage a better man.” Kendrick looks at his best friend, the groom, and smiles. “And, Savage, you make Laila make you a better man.”

Everyone laughs.

Raising his glass even higher, Kendrick bellows, “Cheers to the bride and groom!”

The party erupts and Savage and I kiss.

We’re outside on Reed’s large patio, underneath twinkling lights. Savage and I both have shiny new rings on our third fingers and perma-grins on our faces. Our wedding this evening has been a fairly simple affair, attended by our closest friends and family. And it’s been perfect. Straight out of a fairytale.

We pulled our wedding together a bit faster than we maybe envisioned when Savage proposed four months ago, once we realized how busy we were going to be in the coming year. My third album just released and it’s already soaring. “Savage Love” is my biggest hit, by far, and I’ve been hard at work on designing a makeup line, too.

Savage and his band are working on their next album. And I have no doubt it’s going to be another smash hit. Soon, my husband and I begin shooting the next season of Sing Your Heart Out. Our first of four seasons we signed on to do. And once shooting on the show ends, Fugitive Summer and I are going to participate in a “festival style” tour with a slew of other artists, including 22 Goats, Aloha, and Alessandra—a new touring concept that will make the process of bringing live music to our fans a whole lot more fun and less of a grind for everyone involved.

All things considered, Savage and I realized we had to get married pretty quickly, and in a relatively simple fashion, or else wait another year and a half to do it in grand style. So, here we are. And, frankly, I wouldn’t have it any other way. The past four months in our new house have been magical for us, to the point where we’ve both felt an urgent desire to call each other “husband” and “wife,” sooner rather than later.

If you ask me, it’s not necessary to be married to someone to love them wholeheartedly. Unconditionally. Or even to commit to them “forever.” One need only say those words, and make those sacred promises, in quiet moments together, with nobody else around, to make them real and unbreakable. Certainly, based on what I saw of my mother and father’s marriage, I’m not a believer that marriage turns a bad relationship into a good one. But, still, I must confess, the little girl in me has always wanted to marry my prince. And today, that’s exactly what I’ve done.

As simple and small as our wedding has been, it’s turned out to be as magical as I’ve ever dreamed it would be. Standing face to face with Savage, looking into his soulful, brown eyes, and hearing him say, “Laila, I promise to love and cherish you, forever, through sickness and health, and richer or poorer,” felt every bit as soul-stirring and beautiful as I’d dreamed the words would sound. Even more so, actually, thanks to the look on Savage’s face when he said them. He looked so beautiful in that moment. So overcome with love and happiness. I could barely hold it together to say my own vows.

I’ve decided to take Savage’s name, though not professionally. My stage name will always be Laila Fitzgerald. But on all legal documents, I’m now, officially, Laila Savage. And it feels even more awesome than I could have predicted. Now, whenever Savage picks up his guitar and serenades me with his rendition of my song, “Savage Love,” which he often does, it’ll feel even more like he’s singing a love song he wrote for me.

When Kendrick finishes his best-man speech, Kai and Titus get up to say a few words. And then, my bridesmaids: my sister, Aloha, Sasha, Alessandra, and Ruby. Savage made fun of me for having so many bridesmaids, especially for such a small wedding. But I told him, “It’s like ‘Birthday Truth or Dare.’ As long as I don’t maim, kill, or send anyone to prison, nothing is off-limits at my own wedding.” And, of course, Savage replied to that, “Knock yourself out, Fitzy. It’s your day.” To that, I replied, “No, it’s our day.” And Savage replied, “Mostly yours, though.” I didn’t continue arguing the point, because I knew he was right. Savage would marry me on the beach in front of our house, if given the option, and then throw a party in our living room to celebrate. Anything more than that has pretty much been for me. The girl who grew up enchanted by Beauty and the Beast.

My mom takes the mic from Sasha and tearfully tries to tell Savage and me how happy she is, but she can’t get more than five words out. Which, honestly, is even more meaningful to me than whatever words she’s got written on that little scrap of paper in her hand.

I head over to my weeping mother and hug her as she cries. I understand her emotion completely. The magnitude of this occasion for her. She’s not only weeping about my marriage to Savage, although she’s obviously over the moon about it. Even more than that, though, I know my mother is crying because I didn’t follow in her footsteps. Because I didn’t wind up married to a man like my father, or to one of the many assholes I dated before my husband. My mom is crying because I’ve married a man who’ll love me and treat me right, forever—which means all her dreams for me have now come true, every bit as much as Mimi’s dreams for Savage have,