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But…in for a penny, in for a pound. “Yes,” I answer.
I tug on my bow tie as Matrimony Maven cues up the music and Hitch Malone pats me on the shoulder. “It’s all right, kid. I was nervous before I married Maven,” he says, nodding toward his wife. “Nerves are good. They mean this matters to you.”
“That’s not why?—”
But I swallow my denial when the music begins and the door opens. Elodie strides in, and my nerves simply vanish, like smoke in the fog.
I can’t take my eyes off her. Her hair is twisted up in a clip, blonde tendrils framing her face, her cheeks rosy, her lips the color of cherries, her blue eyes bright and playful, but also…hopeful.
I think.
Or maybe I want to think it’s hope I see in the tilt of her lips, the softness of her smile, the tenderness in her eyes. The burgundy velour dress hits at her knees, accentuates her waist and full hips, and hugs the curves of her breasts. Her engagement ring from Grams shines on her right hand today. She switched it so she could put the band on her left hand. She’s still wearing her Converse, and somehow the incongruity of my dressed up woman in sneakers makes my breath catch.
And my heart beats faster.
Clutching a bouquet of yellow roses, she’s walking toward me, dipping her face, then meeting my gaze, then looking away, and holy shit, is she truly nervous? Or is that excitement?
I don’t even know. I just feel right now. I feel…tingles as she walks past empty chairs and the romantic song swells, the crooner’s lyrics filling the corners of my mind.
It must have been that something lovers call fate.
I’m not a fate guy. Don’t believe in it one bit. Not after the way my life has gone. But in this moment, I believe in something bigger than me. I believe Elodie came into my life for a reason.
The reason is the partnership, surely. That’s what I tell myself. But I can’t seem to hold that idea in my head. It falls away like sand as Elodie closes the distance between us while Maven clicks, clicks, clicks on her phone, snapping photos.
For a brief, dangerous moment, my imagination runs wild. Maybe that’s inevitable, even when you’re playing pretend. But when I’m with Elodie, I don’t feel like I’m faking a thing. With her I don’t feel like I’m constantly racing toward the future. I feel like I’m living in the moment, and each moment with her is the only place I want to be.
It had to be you.
When she reaches me, Maven fades the song into the background, and I lock eyes with my bride. “Hi.” It comes out rough, like sandpaper.
“Hi,” she says and it’s bright, bursting with sunshine.
“You look…” I stop, like I can find the best word for her. But in the end, I return to the simplest. “Beautiful.”
“You look so handsome,” she says, her tone surprisingly vulnerable.
It’s like we’re saying more even as we compliment the surfaces. Or maybe I just want to believe that.
Out of the corner of my eye, Hitch Malone seems to be fighting off a smile. “Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today,” he begins, and he wastes no time moving through the script he must know by heart, then saying, “And do you, Gage Reginald Archer, take this woman to be your wife?”
Electricity crackles through my bones. “I do,” I say, holding tight to her gaze.
“And do you, Elodie Calliope Starling, take this man to be your husband?”
There’s no hesitation as she says, “I do.”
“The rings please.”
Maven hands Hitch the $129 wedding bands we picked out online last night. I slide hers onto her ring finger, staring at the sight of the metal hugging her skin.
She slides mine onto my finger, and I savor her touch.
“I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride,” he says.
I cup her cheeks and drink in our first kiss as a married couple like it’s my favorite wine. The softness of her breath, the silk of her hair, the sweet cherry scent of her skin. I kiss her deeper as the scent goes to my head. But really, it’s her.
The way she is. The hold she has on me. How she makes my heart hammer.
