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“He’s great.” She grinned at me, her hand gently massaging the sore spots in my neck muscles. “He looks very handsome. He’s all smiles.”
I’d be a liar if I tried to say that a small part of me wasn’t relieved to hear that. That same small part thought there might be the tiniest, minuscule chance that he’d run away, that he’d realize how real all of it was and take off. To hear that he was happy, that he was excited made it so much better.
“Okay. Let’s go.”
————
From the back of the line, I could see Jamey and Madeline in the very front. Madeline was cooing, her chubby little hands stuffed in her bag of flower petals as she sat in the little wagon Jamey would be pushing. He was five, now, a little taller, a little smarter. Still looked exactly like his father even though Hudson liked to joke that he was beginning to look like me.
The doors opened and I watched as Jamey pushed his little sister forward, his feet bouncing in excitement. My empty hands shook. I’d opted to not go for a bouquet since I was having both of my parents walk me down the aisle, but I was beginning to realize the reason why brides probably carried them in the first place. I wanted something to hold on to.
One by one, I watched my bridesmaids and Hudson’s groomsmen file into the room. From my vantage point, I couldn’t see anyone at the far end, though I could hear Jamey’s oohs and ahhhs and his little remarks to Madeline to tell her to watch.
Mom and Dad took my empty hands in theirs as the doors closed and we took our position behind them.
“You alright, bug?” Dad whispered, his clammy hand squeezing mine.
“Yeah,” I breathed. “It all just became a little real.”
The soft piano music hit its crescendo and the doors opened wide. I didn’t see anyone, not a single soul, not the decorations our moms had spent so much time on, not the woodwork our dads had made together. I didn’t see the flowers we’d picked out, I didn’t see Jamey or Madeline or our friends and families on either side.
All I saw was him.
Decked out in his finest all-black suit, his hair back and away from his face, his stubble shaved. Madeline had been up all night crying, and I noticed he’d taken Lisa’s advice and put on the smallest dab of concealer beneath his eyes, hiding the dark circles. He looked perfect—my person, the father of my child, my everything.
My heartbeat thrummed in my ears and suddenly I was moving, walking, running down the aisle. My hands were empty, my feet quick beneath me in my heels, and before the room and the people and the music filtered back into my senses, my arms were around his neck, my face pressed into his jacket. I didn’t care if it left a makeup stain. It was him, and it was me. It was us and our children, and that was all I needed. It would always be all I needed.
————
As we stood in the courtyard of the Boston Public Library, the music from the reception filtering out through closed doors and the water trickling from the fountain before us, I couldn’t help but feel like everything had gone too fast. The ceremony was perfect, the reception was perfect, the first dance was perfect. Everything had gone according to plan, but it went too quickly.
“I could do this every day with you,” Hudson whispered, his arms squeezing me tightly from behind as he rested his chin on my shoulder. “Celebrate us every day, see you in this dress every day, marry you again every day.”
I giggled a bit as I leaned back into him. “If only. It’d be a little hard to parent, though, if this was our every day.”
“We could have another one though.” He turned, kissing my neck gently. “Another wedding, I mean. Not another kid. I don’t think we could handle three. But we could have one every anniversary, you could make a new dress every year, we could invite all our friends and family?—”
“That sounds exhausting,” I laughed. “Do you know how long it took me to make this dress?”
“Then I’ll buy you one. Every year, a new dress. Consider it an anniversary gift.”
“You’re insane,” I grinned, squeezing his arms. “But I love you.”
“I love you, too.” The music slowed, a cheesy love song blaring through the speakers, and through the glass doors, people milled their way onto the dance floor, arms around necks and easily swaying to the beat. Hudson swayed me along with it. “Thank you, Sophie. For everything.”
“What do you mean?”
“You’ve given me everything. Another child, a thawed heart, the ability to feel again, to love again. You’ve given my son a mother and my life far more meaning than I deserve. You’ve given me a happy ending I didn’t even know I wanted.” He dragged his hand through my hair, turning my head to face him. “So, thank you. And I love you. And I don’t deserve you.”
His eyes were soft, his gaze so loving beyond anything I could have expected from him. It set off those stupid butterflies in my stomach again, spreading warmth throughout my body. I would never get tired of this feeling.
“You’re welcome. I love you, too. And you do deserve me. You deserve every part of me, for as long as I live and far, far beyond that.”
THE END
