So I say the wildest thing I can think of, the thing I know will keep us together in spite of the distance forcing us apart.
“Let’s get married. We’ll figure the rest out later.”
She’s silent for a long moment. I don’t take it back, and she doesn’t respond, until she turns her face to mine. Her eyes lock with mine, and all the words in my heart reflect back at me.
“Are you insane?” Her words are a whisper in the quiet room.
Am I insane?
The only thing I know is that I want this woman to be mine for the rest of my earthly days, and for whatever lies beyond. I want her, distance be damned. I want her good days and bad, I want her laughter and her tears. I want to be her husband, to be the one she comes home to. I want my home to be her.
“Only crazy for you, baby girl. You wanna tie yourself to me for life?”
Her laugh is a breathy exhale, and the first hint of a tear sneaks out from beneath closed eyelids. I smudge it away with the pad of my thumb.
“What’d you say, baby girl?”
In a whisper so quiet I almost miss it, she says, “Let’s do it.”
“We’ve got five minutes before the car gets here.” I nuzzle into her neck, sucking at the warm skin between her throat and collarbone. She pushes me away.
“Put some clothes on,” she whispers. “As much as I love it when you’re naked, I don’t share.”
I swallow hard, then roll off the bed and cross the room to my suitcase.
Four minutes later, we’re downstairs, and I pull the door open quietly to see the rideshare car pull up outside. I’m in dark jeans and a crisp white button-down, sleeves rolled to my elbows, and Ruth is in a pretty cream sundress with wedge heels that bring her closer to my height. I still have to dip my head to kiss her, and something about that still gives me a little thrill.
I can hardly keep my hands off her as we sit together in the back seat. I found a twenty-four hour chapel online, and booked us in without a second thought. Ruth threads her fingers through mine, effectively stilling the hand that was roaming up and down her thigh, and presses our joined hands lightly against my bouncing knee.
“Don’t tell me you’re nervous now,” she whispers with a tiny laugh.
“Not even slightly, baby girl.”
“You’re doing the nervous leg-bounce.”
“Not nervous, Ruth.” I turn my head to face her, and she tilts hers slightly. Even in the dark car, only the dim glow of streetlights outside to illuminate her, she’s so beautiful. My heart skips at the sight of her smile. “Not nervous at all. Just ready.”
“Ready, huh?” Her smile deepens, those little lines around her mouth growing as her lips twitch.
“I’ve been ready to marry you since that airport bar in New York, Ruth,” I say lowly. I’ve never told her how I talked about her to my mom after I got home. It never felt worth mentioning. But the pull I felt toward her, the way I knew in my heart and my soul and my verybonesthat Ruth Bevan was always supposed to be mine, and that I was to be hers—that’s the pull that brought us to this taxi right now.
She blinks hard, eyes filling with a sheen that glistens in the sodium light spilling through the windows. Her lips press together tightly, and her chin wobbles, and I squeeze my fingers around hers before freeing my hand and using it to pull her closer. She leans across the middle seat between us, pressing as close to me as she can with our seatbelt restraints.
“I was always supposed to be yours, Ruth Bevan,” I whisper into her hair. “We were always meant to be.”
“Gonna marry the shit out of you, Tanner,” she whispers quietly, and then giggles. “I’m not changing my name, though.”
“You’re not?”
She lifts her head, and her brown eyes slam into mine. In stark contrast to the joy they held a moment ago, they’re now filled with fear.
“I’m—wait, we haven’t—we’ve never even talked about this. Oh, God, Ev, we’ve never even talked about marriage, or anything, or—I don’t want to change my name. I’m a Bevan. It’s who I am. Who I’ve always been. Is that—I mean—is it—”
“Honey, take a breath for me, okay?” I bring a hand to her cheek, cupping her jaw and rubbing a thumb along her cheekbone. She’s almost hyperventilating, rambling quietly. “Change your name, don’tchange your name. It’s not a deal-breaker for me. All I care about is that I get to call you my wife.”
And fifteen minutes later, with IDs shown, rings chosen, and papers signed, we stand in front of a janitor and the cashier from the convenience store next door, exchanging vows.
“I do.”
