Rhys
It was finally the day.
I stood in the center of the private dressing room, checking my heavy gold Rolex for what felt like the hundredth time in the past ten minutes.
The secondhand clicked steadily away, but time felt agonizingly slow.
My pulse thudded so hard in my chest that I could feel the rhythmic pulse in my throat.
10:15 a.m.
We were scheduled to walk down the aisle at eleven sharp, and my mind was spinning out of control.
I took a deep, shaky breath, turning toward the full-length vanity mirror to inspect my reflection. I was dressed in a custom, deep burgundy tuxedo crafted from sleek Italian wool. The tailored cut hugged my broad shoulders perfectly, and the rich color made my eyes stand out, paired with a crisp white shirt and a polished black satin bow tie.
It was a stunning suit—refined, commanding, and royal—but no amount of fine tailoring could stop my hands from trembling slightly as I adjusted my cuffs.
I was about to take the biggest step of my life. I was marrying Kayden. We were going to be tied to each other forever.
Yet, as I stared at my reflection, the lingering anxieties I’d tried to suppress all night came crashing back over me like a cold wave.
Even after the warmth and laughter of our bachelor party, dark, irrational doubts kept creeping into my head.
What if Kayden had second thoughts? What if the overwhelming reality of forever suddenly terrified him? What if he looked at everything we were building and decided he couldn’t do it? What if he just didn’t show up? How was I supposed to go on living my life if the one person who anchored me walked away?
The room was deathly quiet.
Miller had stepped out a few minutes ago to double-check the final floral arrangements with the coordinator, leaving me alone with the suffocating weight of my own thoughts.
"I’m getting married," I murmured under my breath, my voice barely audible in the quiet room.
I began pacing back and forth across the plush carpet, nervously rubbing my palms against my thighs.
"I am getting married today," I repeated over and over, trying to force the reality into my racing mind.
I stopped back in front of the vanity, obsessively adjusting the black satin bow tie around my collar for the fifth time, practicing the opening lines of my written vows under my breath.
The heavy oak door behind me creaked softly as it clicked open. Without turning around, I let out a ragged sigh, keeping my eyes glued to the glass.
"My heart is pounding like crazy, Miller," I admitted, my voice strained. "I’m... I’m so unsure of myself right now."
"Weddings have a habit of doing that to a man, son."
My entire body froze. My eyes widened in shock as I stared straight through the mirror’s reflection. Standing just inside the doorway, wearing a sharp, tailored black suit and looking back at me with raw emotion in his eyes, was my father.
"Fa... Father?" I breathed out, the word tasting strange on my tongue. I stayed rooted to the spot, staring at him in the glass without turning around.
When Kayden had gently suggested months ago that I extend an invitation to my family, I had only sent the cards to appease him—never actually believing my father would show up. Yet here he was, standing in the middle of my waiting room, looking at me with a soft, quiet pride that I had never seen on his face in my entire life.
"Oh, goodness," my father said softly, stepping further into the room. "The suit looks exceptionally good on you, Rhys."
I couldn’t bring myself to turn and look him in the eye. Instead, I fumbled with my bow tie again, trying to mask my rising panic by pretending to fix the fabric. Seeing him here brought a sudden, overwhelming surge of complicated feelings rushing back to the surface.
Seeing my quiet struggle, my father walked slowly until he was standing directly in front of me. He reached up with steady hands, gently taking the satin ends of my bow tie from my trembling fingers to adjust it himself.
"What are you..." I tried to ask, my voice cracking slightly.
He cut me off before I could finish, his voice dropping into a barely audible whisper.
"I’m sorry."
The breath caught in my throat.
My eyes widened even further as those two words echoed in the space between us.
I’m sorry.
Words I had spent my entire childhood dreaming of hearing. Words from the man who had groomed me to be his absolute perfection, who had molded me into an extension of his own broken ambitions, and who had emotionally pushed me to the brink for years because he couldn’t fulfill the hockey legacy his own father had demanded of him. He had used me as a stepping stone, making me carry the weight of his unfulfilled dreams.
Hearing him say it now made my heart beat wildly against my ribs.
I subconsciously raised a hand, pressing my palm against my chest as if trying to physically hold in the tidal wave of emotions threatening to breach my composure.
"Son," my father began quietly, keeping his eyes focused on neatly tucking my collar into place. "I know you aren’t happy to see me here today. But if I hadn’t come, I know your mother would be rolling in her grave knowing I missed your wedding day. I couldn’t let that happen. And I know you resent me... who wouldn’t, after everything I put you through over the years? I apologize for every single thing I have done to you. I know no apology will ever undo the damage, but I am so, so sorry, Rhys. I tried to live my life through you... and I should have realized how wrong that was so much sooner."
His voice broke slightly at the end, and he swallowed hard, letting out a soft, shaky breath.
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