(Elle)

Getting married turns out to be a lot of fun, especially when someone else has done all the work for you. June, to be specific—I highly recommend having June Flynn plan your entire wedding. Of course, she may only be willing to do that if you marry one of her sons, and I am not at all sorry to tell you that one of those sons is completely off the market. The second one is also quite the catch, though, so let me know if you want me to set you up. But not, like, right now, because things are a little hectic at the moment. But I'm getting ahead of myself.

Noah probably thought I'd lost my mind, insisting we go for a hike this morning, but I'm so glad we did. I'd slept terribly all night, too full of anticipation and nerves, and by the time I'd given up on falling back asleep I was so antsy with nervous energy that I needed to get up and just go somewhere. We didn't talk much as we made our way in the breaking dawn to the Hollywood sign and back, and we didn't need to; just being together on this familiar path was enough. I fell asleep on the drive back, the physical effort of the hike and the emotional reassurance of the ritual having finally calmed my restlessness.

The rest of the morning flew by in a blur. June and Mickey fussing over me, Dad and Brad showing up to drive me downtown, the unexpected but welcome presence of even more of our relatives than June had let on, Carol's warm words and gentle teasing when we both managed to stumble nervously over our own names in the vows, and, of course, Noah. You'd think after all this time he couldn't still knock the wind out of me with one crooked grin, but of course he can, and it was when I stepped onto that terrace and saw him that the reality of today fully hit. The reason we were all gathered here, the reason I'd been unable to sleep last night, the reason I was blinking back tears. We'd made it here, made it to this milestone, and for a brief moment time slowed enough for me to breathe it all in.

As wonderful as today has been, I am wishing I'd picked more comfortable shoes. The sleek silver heels Mickey talked me into may be the perfect match for my dress, but they're also killing my back, and I sit down and temporarily kick them off as soon as we get to the restaurant where June has organized the reception. We took a million pictures after the ceremony, the mid-day sun beating down on us, and now I need a minute to stretch my back and rest my legs.

One of the waitresses makes a beeline for me, asking if I need anything, and after a second of staring confusedly at each other we realize we took a class together my first semester at UCLA. Audrey's full of questions after that, eager to hear what I've been up to and when I'm due and how I met Noah, and I hesitate before answering. I know from experience what will happen if I say I've known him forever and that we started dating in high school: excited squeals about how romantic that is and how lucky we are. Which isn't exactly untrue, but swooning comments about marrying my high school sweetheart make me uneasy. Our history is more complicated than that, but even without our own particularly tangled path I'm not sure that being high school sweethearts is as dreamy as it sounds.

What people don't get, or maybe intentionally forget, is that it's terrifying, falling in love in high school. You're pretty sure you've just discovered what being in love is, but you're also pretty sure it can't last. And you know the breakup is going to be awful, but you also know it's inevitable. Because you're fifteen or sixteen or seventeen or even eighteen, and that feels a long way off from actual adulthood. Look around, and count how many people you know married to the first person they ever dated. So the odds aren't working in your favor, when you're sixteen and head over heels.

Now, add that guy you're in love with being a constant presence in your life. Your best friend's brother. The son of the closest thing to a mom you've got left. This isn't a family you can walk away from. No matter what happens with this guy, you're going to see him, hear about him, sit across holiday dinners from him, forever. Including after the breakup. Including when he brings the next girl home to meet his parents. You'll almost certainly be at his wedding. You tell yourself that's a long way off. Plenty of time for you both to have gotten over however bad the breakup turns out to be. But you're not sure you actually believe that, because right now you can't imagine not being in love with him. Not being destroyed by the idea of him with someone else.

So yeah, high school romances can be kind of overwhelming. Not to mention, even just getting to that part, to the crazy in love but terrified about it phase, wasn't easy.

I was thrilled to find my feelings for Noah reciprocated, but also freaked out. Before the kissing booth, my crush on Noah had seemed safe. Besides all the obvious reasons every girl at school had a crush on him, part of his appeal to me was that I knew him, trusted him. Sure, we argued a lot, and he tended to torture Lee more than necessary, but I could trust him not to be a complete jerk. Even if he did notice the infatuation, I didn't think he'd mock me for it, at least not to anyone else. More importantly, I knew he'd never try to take advantage of my crush, because why would he even care? He was busy with his million admirers and I was his annoying little brother's even more annoying sidekick.

Of course, the hope was that he wouldn't notice. That the crush would run its course, that I'd get over it, and that Noah would never find out how often I'd elected to hang out at Lee's house just in case Noah might be home. That Noah would never notice my blush whenever we accidentally brushed against each other or he laughed at one of my jokes. Except then we kissed, and suddenly my feelings for Noah were the opposite of safe. Suddenly I was head over heels and in over my head, and panicked about all the ways this could go wrong.

The thing is, those fears turned out to be accurate. Things were exactly as terrible and awkward after our breakup as I'd dreaded they would be. After all of our breakups. Falling in love with Noah was just as spectacularly dangerous an idea as I'd feared in those first heady days. I'd been right—but only partially. Because it was all still worth it.

Even if you'd asked me a year ago, when we were nearly two years into hiding from each other, I'd still have told you that the gamble had been worth it. We'd had a few amazing years, and even in our lowest moments I wouldn't have given up those years to spare myself the heartbreak. And while my sixteen year old self had been right about how painful the inevitable breakup would be, she hadn't realized that might not be the end of the story. That people could fall in love, wreck it all, and get another chance.

Or several extra chances, in our case, but even that is reassuring. The reason it's rare to marry your high school love is that you're still growing and evolving. Your adult selves may turn out incompatible, and then comes that breakup you've been dreading. Worse yet, you end up incompatible, but you lie to yourself and stay together anyway, because it's been so long and moving on is just too scary. If there's a bright side to our history, it's that we avoided those doubts. Whatever evolving we each did, our new selves kept finding their way back together.

But all of that is a thousand times more detail than people want when they ask how we met, and a thousand times more detail than I feel like sharing. So when Audrey coos about how sweet it is that we've known each other forever, I just smile. It is pretty sweet, and all the more because we had to work for it.

But enough brooding, because right now I've got a party to enjoy. My very own wedding reception, to be precise, and I'm not about to let impractical shoes and an aching back ruin it.

Dad's been quiet all day, even more so than his usual, and while everyone else is distracted by the arrival of the first course I seize the opportunity to sit myself next to him.

"Is your leg bothering you?" Dad hates to admit when he's in pain.

"No, it's fine. Just wanted to sit back and enjoy watching you two for a bit. But sitting with you is even better."

I rest my head on Dad's shoulder, relishing the familiar smell of his cologne and tickle of his beard.

"She would have loved this, you know. She hated big weddings," Dad goes on.

I don't need to ask who she is. "But your wedding was big."

"Only because your grandparents insisted. Your mom kept threatening to elope, but in the end she let them have the big formal affair they wanted. This is more what she would have wanted for you."

"Including the groom?" I can't help joking.

Dad laughs. "She'd have been just fine with the groom. Surprised, but just fine. Now, if you'd asked me back then..."

I grin back at him. "And yet you were shockingly tolerant of my terrible teenage decisions."

"Yes, well, I was aware of the likely outcome of telling you what to do."

"So you kept quiet and hoped I'd see sense?"

Dad doesn't answer, merely giving me a pointed stare.

"And how'd that plan work out for you?" I tease him.

"Quite well. It took longer than I expected, but you both finally got some sense."

I snuggle closer to him. It seems impossible that soon there'll be someone looking to me for the steady reassurance Dad always provides. Impossible and a little daunting.

"Am I going to magically get wise like you once I'm a parent? Or is there a secret instruction manual you still haven't shared with me?"

"There's no manual, Elle. You just figure it out as you go."

"Can I call you when I get lost, though?" I'd meant it as a joke, but my voice catches on the words.

"Of course. But not at two a.m., mind you. I've put in my time on the baby night shift already." Dad's attempt at a stern expression makes me giggle.

"Fine. I'll call June instead. She won't abandon me just because it's late."

"Mmm, yes, June is a much bigger pushover. Definitely call her with all your late night questions and I'll take the day shift."

Dad and I share another smile, and then a quiet minute before I reluctantly sit up.

"I should get back out there. I still haven't talked to Frank, or to my cousins."

"Don't worry about making everyone else happy today, Elle. We're just glad to be here, and to see you happy."

"Yeah, but—I'm glad you're all here too, and I don't want to miss anyone."

"You'll get to see us all again soon enough, when Dinah shows up. Today is for you and Noah. Don't let the rest of us monopolize your time."

Dad has a point, and I'm glad I got us up early for that hike, because otherwise Noah would be the person I've spent the least time with today. After impatiently waiting for both of us to be free at the same time, I finally just apologize to my uncle and grab Noah.

"Everything okay?" Noah sounds concerned as I pull him into the hallway.

"Everything is peachy, except I haven't gotten to talk to you at all since we got here. And I've barely had a chance to eat."

Noah relaxes at that, giving me a rueful smile. "I think that's just how weddings work. Kyle complained about the same thing."

"Kyle?"

"Kyle and Emma. The wedding in New York."

"Oh, right. That feels like forever ago."

"It was two weeks ago, Shelly," Noah laughs.

"I guess. It just feels a lot longer. I mean, that was before we were even engaged."

Now he's really laughing. "Yes, before our extremely long engagement. Back in the very faraway time fourteen days ago when I patiently and repeatedly explained to all my friends that you and I were in no rush to get married."

I can't help blushing. "Sorry about that. But I bet they'll enjoy getting that announcement tomorrow."

We haven't told any of our friends yet, other than Mickey and Adam, and I'm looking forward to posting a picture tomorrow and letting our rings speak for themselves.

"So, are we doing this again next year? With fancier outfits and all of our friends?" Noah asks.

I shake my head. "We should definitely throw a big party sometime. But I don't need another wedding. This one was perfect."

I'd only intended a quick kiss when I stretched up to meet Noah's lips, but he seems in no hurry to break it off.

"We could ditch," Noah suggests when he finally pulls away. "There's a pizza shop next door. We could slip out, go eat without anyone trying to talk to us, and then come back. Or not come back..."

"I'm pretty sure our absence would be noticed. And I'm not leaving until I've had cake."

"We grab the cake, then we disappear."

"Nope."

"We tell everyone you're in labor. Then, later, we say it was a false alarm."

"They'll be suspicious why we're taking the cake with us, in that case. Is my uncle really that terrible to talk to?"

"He has many opinions. Opinions he is eager to share but much less eager for me to disagree with."

Noah's being tactful. Uncle Frank is, well, kind of a curmudgeon.

"So I'll go talk to him instead. But I warn you, Grandma Melanie is looking for you. She didn't like it when I laughed hysterically in response to when we're having another, so you're next on her list to badger."

"I appreciate the warning. I also appreciate her belief that I could ever change your mind on anything."

I try to flick Noah's hand, but he anticipates my move and captures mine instead, pulling me back in for another lingering kiss.

"I don't think you'd actually need to change my mind, you know." I mumble as we eventually pull away.

"About?" Noah sounds distracted.

"If you wanted to have another, someday. I didn't laugh at Grandma Mel because I never want to. I just... don't like other people pressuring us."

We haven't actually talked about this, and maybe we should have. Then again, I'd want to be with Noah regardless—and, based on the grin he's giving me, I don't think we disagree anyway.

"How about we have this one first, and decide on the next one... much, much later?"

"Yeah." I smile back.

"So for today, I'll just try to be more diplomatic than you about telling your grandma to back off."

"Probably wise. Okay, ready to go back in?"

"You're sure we can't ditch and go get pizza?"

"Very sure."

I really can't imagine how people survive big weddings; even with our tiny crowd I'm sick of smiling and talking even before the cake shows up. Which is weird, because I Iove parties and I love talking, but today has been uniquely draining. June insists on taking endless pictures of us cutting the cake, and after that and another round of toasts I decide I need to get off my feet again. Mickey and Adam are deep in conversation about something that must be hilarious, given their laughter, and I drop into an empty chair beside them.

"Ignore me," I tell them. "I need to not talk or smile or pretend to be interested in anyone's baby advice for the next, I don't know, probably three months. But I'll settle for ten minutes of hiding out here and letting you two do all the talking."

"You look exhausted. Have you eaten?" Mickey eyes me suspiciously.

"A little. But people keep interrupting when I'm trying to eat, and my stomach's been weird all day anyway. This is my second slice of cake, though. Can you believe June made this?"

"Can I believe June made a cake? For you, her favorite child, and for the wedding she's been looking forward to forever? Yeah, I can believe it." Mickey dryly answers.

"See, that's where you're wrong. This is carrot cake," I point out, waving my cake-laden fork at Mickey, "which means June made it for Noah, not for me, which proves he's the favorite."

"I love how I'm never even mentioned in these arguments about who Mom's favorite is," Lee comments, walking up just in time to overhear. "And also, once again—do I need to point out how weird it is that you just married your competition for favorite child?"

"No, you don't. But you will anyway, and I'll forgive you, because that's what sisters do." Lee absolutely hates it when I use the s word, so I smile sweetly at him as I say it.

"Gross."

"Lee, I married your brother. That makes me your sister in law. That's just... how it works."

"Nope. Both of you spent years telling me you're not our sister, you can't flip now."

"I wasn't your sister then. And I'm still not his sister. But marrying Noah makes me your sister."

"Nope. Too weird."

"You two are adorable, and this argument definitely never gets old." Mickey sighs.

"Look, I don't care who the favorite is or how incestuous this is, I'm just relieved today's cake isn't funfetti. I practically got a cavity just from baking that monstrosity." Adam interjects.

"Oh, shut up. Funfetti is only for birthdays. Didn't Noah explain that? And it was very sweet of you to make me a cake."

"To be honest, I thought Noah was planning to propose that weekend, and I wanted to up his chances." Adam admits with a smile.

"Too bad you were a week early," Lee laughs, just as Mickey snorts "It would taken more than cake to get Elle's head out of her ass."

"Enough.New rule: no mocking the bride on her wedding day."

Mickey and Adam only just met this week, but it took them about three minutes to bond over their shared interest in tormenting me and Noah.

"Alright, I'm going to go rescue Noah. It looks like my grandmother is lecturing him again."

My back is throbbing, and I wince as I stand up, kneading at my lower back with my knuckles.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Mickey asks curiously.

"It's these heels, and all the standing."

Mickey looks unconvinced, and she follows me away from the table. "Look, I hate to ask but —"

I roll my eyes. "No, Mickey, I am not in labor." I swear Mickey's asked if I'm in labor every time I've so much as frowned in the past month.

"You're sure? Because you keep wincing and you were just complaining about feeling weird."

"My back hurts because my shoes are foolish and my stomach is acting up because today is weird and stressful."

Mickey just stares back at me, one eyebrow raised.

"Mickey, I am not in labor. I would know if I were in labor."

"Do I need to remind you about the I would know if I were pregnant conversation?" She whispers pointedly.

"That was—completely different." I sputter in annoyance.

"If you say so." Mickey's skeptical look says otherwise.

"Look, Mickey, I swear I'm not being an idiot. I feel fine, I'm just tired. Not a single contraction, I promise. I'll stay off my feet for the rest of the reception and I won't wear heels ever again. But I am seriously not in labor. And if at any point I feel a contraction, I will tell you. Well, not you. I'll tell Noah. And probably June. But I promise I will tell someone."

Mickey raises her hands in mock surrender. "Fine, fine, I'm dropping it. You just had me worried for a second there. I'm done nagging, I promise."

"Liar. Bossing people around is your favorite hobby." I laugh.

"Well, yeah." Mickey smiles back.

I grab Mickey for a long hug. "Thank you. For all the nagging and all the bossing around, but also all the times you listened and just let me figure myself out. And for never once saying I told you so about anything, even though you always did."

"Eh, I knew you knew I'd told you so, I didn't need to rub it in." Mickey laughs.

"Alright, go back to trading mortifying stories about me with Lee and Adam. The cake is practically gone, and I'm pretty sure that means I can escape soon."

There's just one more person I want to talk to before grabbing Noah and disappearing, and I find her standing by the dessert table, discussing something with one of the waiters. I don't think I've seen June sit down at any point today, but she lets me pull her aside to one of the banquettes.

"Thank you. For today, for all of this. There's no way we could've done this on our own."

"It was my pleasure. And besides, you know I promised your mom." June pauses, then laughs. "Well, I promised I'd offer to help you plan your wedding. Even back then there was no getting you to accept help you didn't want."

I smile sheepishly. "Dad said she'd have loved this. That she hated how big their wedding was."

"She did. She called me almost every day the month leading up to the wedding, swearing she was calling the whole thing off and eloping to Maui, and then I'd talk her back off the ledge. Your mother was never a fan of big crowds and fuss."

"I know. Every year she suggested we go on a trip for my birthday instead of having a party."

"And then every year you and Lee would sweet-talk me into your latest crazy party idea."

"Yeah. But Mom loved your parties. She just didn't want to plan them." I smile.

"Are you and Noah still thinking you'll have another reception next year, with all your friends and the rest of the family? Because you know I'm always up for more party planning."

"Maybe," I shrug. "We were actually talking about that, earlier. It seems silly to have a second wedding. I mean, we're married now, and today was perfect. But maybe we'll go all out for Dinah's first birthday, and invite everyone then."

"That'll basically be your first anniversary, anyway. We can celebrate both milestones."

"God, I hope so. Everyone keeps telling me that first babies are always late, but I'm not sure I can take another three or even four weeks of this. There's just... no room left for my lungs or my stomach or my bladder."

"I remember those last weeks," June laughs sympathetically. "I was so ready to be done and nothing fit, not even my shoes. I'm amazed you can still wear those."

June tips her head at my heels. My very cute, very ill-advised heels. My feet may not have swollen, but I'd be better off if they had and I'd had to pick a more sensible pair of shoes.

"I shouldn't have, though," I ruefully admit. "They fit, but they've been making my back seize up all afternoon."

Mickey's comments are still nagging at me, and I debate saying something to June. Now that Mickey's put the idea in my head, I can't help second-guessing every twinge and feeling I've felt all day. But it's still a ridiculous thought. I haven't felt a single real contraction, just the same painless Braxton-Hicks tightening I've had on and off all week, and everyone delights in telling me how much worse the real thing is. My lower back is killing me, but that's my shoes. And sure, I've been queasy and barely hungry all day, but that's not new either, given Dinah's invasion of all the space previously dedicated to my stomach and other fairly important organs. So it's nothing, and there's no need to worry June over nothing.

"You need to get off your feet," June informs me as I dither over whether to say anything. "You do realize no one is going to leave before you guys do, right? We've all had our cake, you've talked to everyone, now go get Noah and go home."

June's right. I just need to get out of here, take off these stupid shoes, and take a long hot bath in that giant tub the hotel promised. Preferably with company.

"We're staying at the Grand, right?" Noah confirms as we wait outside the restaurant for the valet to bring his car around.

I'm digging through my purse, trying to find my sunglasses, and between juggling my phone and the flowers June insisted we take with us, I manage to drop my wallet from my purse. I grab at my wallet and actually catch it, except now it's my phone that I can't hold onto, and it falls to the ground with an ominous thud. Swearing, I crouch down to retrieve it and am relieved to find its screen intact. Except, as I awkwardly haul myself back upright and my back seizes up yet again, I realize something did break.

"You okay there, butterfingers?" Noah laughs, holding a hand out to help me up.

I'm too stunned to answer, and I just stare blankly at Noah.

"Elle?"

"We're not going to the Grand." I finally say.

Noah looks confused, and starts scrolling through his phone. "Are you sure? I could have sworn that was the hotel we ended up picking. Because it had the rooftop pool —"

Noah trails off as I grab his arm, and he looks up from his phone at me.

"We're not going to the hotel, we're going to the hospital. I'm pretty sure my water just broke."