I reach up, pressing my lips to his again.
Our hands are linked, so it’s easy to walk down the aisle, past the people we love enough to be at our wedding.
No press, thank God—that was the promise we made.
No media coverage on our wedding and no cameras for the ceremony, aside from the photographer.
Our biggest wedding present might be total privacy.
Today is for us.
The rest of the world can wait.
Before, Ethan was so caught up with expectations. Keeping up appearances for the sake of his company, so intent on making this thingseemlegit to everyone around him.
Not anymore.
The only thing that matters to him is my smile.
And I’m freaking grinning as we break away into the cool evening air.
The photographer snaps off rapid-fire shots as we walk the lakeshore, a welcome break from the small crowd, holding hands and talking about the future.
All the things we want.
All the dreams to merge.
We’ve had these conversations before, but it’s different on your wedding day.
After you’ve waded through the ‘until death do you part’ spiel, the future isn’t this far-off murky thing anymore.
It’s waiting in front of us like a red carpet.
After what feels like an hour of photos, a car drives us back to the reception, set up in the same converted barn we started with.
Since the service, it’s been transformed from rustic beauty to modest glamor. Soft orange lights trail the ceiling, framing every door.
It’s a joy to just sit at our special table and bask in the scene.
Lovely, white-clothed tables fill the room. There’s an open bar at the far end of the room. Margot insisted on that.
Every detail looks exquisite.
We wanted simple, but the napkins twisted in heart shapes next to our plates make me want to tear up.
So do the personalized notes we spent hours writing for every guest.
I search the room for Ethan’s parents, watching as they pick up name cards and read the note Ethan wrote on the back.
“What did you say?” I whisper.
Elvira stiffens like she’s trying to hold her emotions in. Scott reaches for his wine, the shock on his face palpable.
Ethan’s hand finds mine under the table. His thumb swipes the back of my hand.
“I told Dad he’ll always be my father in all the ways that matter.”
“And your mom?”
