Updated Nov 26, 2025 • ~5 min read
Six months later, Oliver asked Lizzie to meet him at the cathedral.
“Why?” Lizzie asked over the phone.
“Because I need to erase what I did here. This is where I broke your heart. I want to try to heal it.”
Lizzie’s stomach fluttered. She knew what this was. Or thought she did.
“I’ll be there in an hour.”
She dressed carefully—not too formal, but nice. Ruby helped her with her makeup via video call, squealing with excitement.
“He’s going to propose! At the cathedral! That’s so dramatic and perfect!”
“We don’t know that for sure,” Lizzie said, even though her hands were shaking.
“Please. You said he’s been planning something for weeks. This is it, Lizzie. Your second chance.”
When Lizzie arrived at the cathedral, it was empty except for Oliver, standing at the altar where he’d left her eighteen months ago.
He looked nervous. Terrified, actually.
“Hi,” Lizzie said softly, walking down the aisle toward him.
“Hi.” Oliver’s voice cracked. “Thank you for coming.”
“You’re really milking this location, aren’t you?”
“I need to. This place—” He looked around. “This place holds the worst thing I’ve ever done. And I can’t move forward, can’t ask you what I want to ask you, until I’ve faced it properly.”
Lizzie reached the altar. Stood where she’d stood that day, Oliver across from her.
“So face it,” she said gently.
Oliver took her hands.
“Elizabeth Miller, eighteen months ago, I stood in this exact spot and made the worst decision of my life. I let fear and duty and cowardice convince me to turn away from the woman I loved. I destroyed you publicly, humiliated you, broke every promise I’d ever made.” His voice shook. “And I’ve spent every day since trying to be worthy of your forgiveness.”
Tears were already streaming down Lizzie’s face.
“I can’t undo what I did. Can’t erase your pain or take back that moment. But I can promise you this: I will never choose anything over you again. Not duty, not legacy, not fear. You are my first choice, my only choice, my forever choice.”
He knelt.
Lizzie’s breath caught.
“This is where I should have stayed. On my knee, asking you to be my wife, instead of turning to your sister.” Oliver pulled out a small velvet box. “So I’m doing it now. The right way. The honest way.”
He opened the box. Inside was a ring—simple, elegant, perfect. Not the ostentatious diamond he’d given her before, but something more personal. More them.
“Elizabeth Miller, will you marry me? Really this time. No contracts, no arrangements, no backup plans. Just me, loving you, asking you to build a life with me.”
Lizzie looked down at him—this man who’d broken her and put her back together, who’d earned her trust piece by piece, who was offering her everything she’d ever wanted.
“Yes,” she whispered.
“Yes?”
“Yes!” Lizzie pulled him to his feet, kissing him through her tears. “Yes, I’ll marry you. A thousand times yes.”
Oliver slid the ring onto her finger, and it fit perfectly. Of course it did. He’d probably measured her finger while she slept, the romantic idiot.
“I love you,” he said against her lips.
“I love you too.”
They stood at the altar, holding each other, reclaiming the space where it all went wrong.
“This is ours now,” Lizzie said. “This moment. This place. We own it.”
“We do.” Oliver kissed her forehead. “And Lizzie? We’re not getting married here.”
She laughed. “Thank God.”
“Ruby’s backyard. Small ceremony. Just family and close friends. Nothing elaborate or public.”
“You’ve already planned it?”
“I may have made some preliminary arrangements. Pending your yes, of course.”
“Of course.”
They walked out of the cathedral hand in hand, leaving the ghosts behind. Outside, the sun was setting, painting the sky in shades of pink and gold.
“When?” Lizzie asked.
“When what?”
“When are we getting married?”
“Whenever you want. Tomorrow. Next year. I’m ready when you are.”
Lizzie thought about it. “Six months. That gives us time to plan properly. To do it right.”
“Six months,” Oliver agreed. “And this time, I’m saying ‘I do’ to the right woman.”
“You better.”
That night, they celebrated with Ruby, Gavin, and Audrey at their favorite restaurant. Everyone cried. Everyone hugged. It was messy and beautiful and exactly what they needed.
“I can’t believe you’re getting married,” Ruby said for the tenth time. “After everything.”
“After everything,” Lizzie echoed. “Maybe that’s the point. We went through hell and came out stronger.”
“That’s very profound. Are you drunk?”
“A little. But I mean it.” Lizzie looked at her ring, sparkling in the candlelight. “We earned this. We both worked for it. And that makes it more real than the first time could ever have been.”
Later, at home, Oliver held her close.
“Are you sure about this?” he asked quietly. “We can wait longer if you need to.”
“I’m sure. I’ve never been more sure of anything.”
“Not even a little scared?”
“Terrified. But the good kind of terrified. The excited kind.”
Oliver kissed her temple. “Six months until you’re Elizabeth Richardson.”
“Actually, I’m keeping Miller.”
He pulled back to look at her. “You are?”
“I built my business under that name. It’s who I became when I rebuilt myself. I’m not giving it up.”
“Fair enough. Elizabeth Miller it is.”
“Although…” Lizzie bit her lip. “Maybe I’ll hyphenate. Miller-Richardson. Best of both worlds.”
“Whatever makes you happy. You could be Elizabeth Unicorn for all I care. As long as you’re mine.”
“So possessive.”
“Only when it comes to you.”
Lizzie fell asleep that night with the ring on her finger and Oliver’s arms around her, dreaming of a wedding that would actually happen.
This time, there would be no interruptions.
No surprises.
Just two people choosing each other.
Forever.
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