No Reservations For Love

The wedding was not supposed to be this dramatic.

But of course, with Est and William, nothing was ever going to be a tasteful little vineyard moment. No, their wedding had:

A cake the size of a Vespa

Est in custom hot pink (with rhinestone buttons that spelled "YES CHEF")

A bridal walk choreographed to Britney Spears

And a guest list that included William's Nonna and a goat named Marzipan in a tuxedo

William stood at the altar (actually, a repurposed bakery display), looking deliciously undone in a white suit, sleeves rolled up, flour still smudged on his wrist like he couldn't help baking one more batch of croissants before saying "I do."

Then the music started. The doors opened.

And there was Est.

In pink velvet, glitter tears, and a smile so bright William forgot how to breathe.

"You look like a fever dream," William whispered as Est reached him.

"You look like you'd marry me even if I showed up in Crocs and eyeliner."

"I would."

"You have," Est corrected, grabbing William's flour-dusted hand.

The ceremony was sweet. Ridiculous. Everything they were.

William's vows made Est cry.

Est's vows made William blush.

Then came the chaos.

The reception was in full swing-there were cannoli towers, an open bar, and someone's drunk aunt trying to seduce the DJ-when he showed up.

Est's ex, his other ex.

Liam.

Liam, with his smug smirk and perfectly gelled hair. Liam, who once told Est he was "too much." Liam, holding a champagne glass like he owned the place.

"Oh hell no," William muttered, already rolling up his sleeves.

Est grabbed him. "Don't punch anyone on our wedding night. It's bad luck."

"Fine," William said. "But I'm going to ruin him with hospitality."

William approached Liam with a murderous smile and said, "Would you like some cake? I baked it myself. It's got layers. Unlike your emotional maturity."

Liam choked on his drink. "I-"

William turned to the crowd. "This guy here once told Est he'd never be successful if he didn't tone it down. Now he's crashing the wedding of the man everyone on the internet wants to marry."

There was applause.

Est beamed.

Liam fled.

William returned to Est and dipped him into a kiss so scandalous it knocked the veil off the flower girl.

"Chef," Est whispered, flushed. "You're officially the hottest part of my wedding."

"You're the only thing I want to serve for the rest of my life."

The night ended the way all great love stories should:

With too much cake, slow dancing in socks, and William whispering, "Let's run away to Italy and open a bakery where no one can find us."

Est laughed. "Not even the pigeon?"

"Especially the pigeon."

As the guests dwindled and the fairy lights twinkled above their rooftop-turned-dance-floor, Est leaned his head on William's shoulder.

"This started with a hate comment."

"It ended with a ring."

"Think we'll last?" Ethan asked softly.

William kissed the top of his head. "Baby, we're preheated. We're rising. We're golden-brown and perfect in the middle."

Ethan grinned. "You're such a nerd."

"And you married me anyway."

They kissed under a sugar-scented sky, hearts full, hands warm, and futures sealed like a pie crust.

No reservations. Just love.

Forever.