She makes her way down the aisle, the music playing loudly. She has a smile on her face, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. She’s looking all around the room. Every chair is full of family and friends who have known both of us our whole lives. There’s a lot of pressure on her.
When her eyes finally meet mine, her polite smile turns into a smirk. I’d rather see that smirk shift into a grin. The closer she gets, the more I want to ask her what she’s happy about.
I barely hear the preacher ask, “Who gives this woman to this man?”
Hubert hugs his daughter, then shakes my hand. Bliss comes to stand next to me, and I reach for her hand, holding it in mine.
She grins up at me. “You look fancy today.”
“You look exquisite today.” My voice is husky.
She shrugs one shoulder. “I am the bride after all.”
“That you are.” I squeeze her hand in mine, and we both give our attention to the officiant.
The pastor, Jason Ludlow, talks about commitment and love and a whole host of other things that I’m not paying attention to,because Bliss came through. She didn’t leave me at the altar. And she thinks I look fancy today. I knew I could count on her.
“And now it’s time for the vows.” Jason grins as he closes the Bible after reading 2 Corinthians 13.
“The couple told me they might be too nervous to read their vows themselves, but I told them they could do it. It’s always so much better when it comes directly from the heart.”
Of course, Jason would want us to do that. He thinks we’re madly in love.
Luckily, I was prepared for this moment.
I pull a slip of paper from my pocket. “Well, in this case, it’s going to have to come straight from the paper because I know I’m too nervous to get it right,” I say with a chuckle.
Bliss squeezes my hand and smiles up at me.
Hopefully, she’s not expecting something amazing. Because the vows we exchange are a basic reiteration of every other wedding ceremony out there. There’s nothing unique about them. We promise to stand by each other’s side in sickness and in health, for richer or poorer.
When Jason pronounces us man and wife and tells me to kiss the bride, I sweep off my cowboy hat and pull Bliss to me with my free arm. I bend her over backward, shielding our faces from the crowd with my hat and keeping the back of my head toward Jason. Our noses touch, but nothing more, and then I pull her upright again and raise our joined hands in the air. I toss my hat, and Max catches it with a grin.
I scoop Bliss off her feet, those red cowboy boots kicking in the air as she settles into my hold, and carry her down the aisle in a triumphant march. Her arms loop around my neck and I can smell her perfume. We turn the corner around the barn, and I set her on her feet.
“Was that okay?” I whisper in her ear. But my question is interrupted by the bridal party bearing down on us,congratulating us and giving us hugs. Our friends and siblings have no qualms about interrupting a private moment between us as newlyweds.
It’s a swarm of well-wishes, a million questions, and soon, Bliss and I are pulled apart.
We are forced to mingle right away. We spend most of the time walking back and forth between all the guests, greeting people, accepting their congratulations, and telling them our plans for the next couple of years.
There are tables scattered all around outside the barn with sunflowers as centerpieces—Bliss’s request. There’s a dance floor set up with patio lights hung around the perimeter and speakers that are already playing music. It’s a simple wedding, but it’s everything that Bliss wanted.
And finally, when it’s time for dancing, I’m ready to drag her out onto the dance floor and have a minute alone.
I hold my hand out to her and lead her out onto the dance floor. Night has fallen, and the stars are shining bright.
“I might trip,” Bliss says in a quiet voice as she lifts her skirt to drape it over one of her arms. Her red cowboy boots bump against mine.
“Don’t worry; I won’t let you fall,” I promise her as I loop an arm around her back.
Her cheeks are flushed, and her eyes grow wide as she glances over my shoulder at all the people watching us. Luckily, the music is loud enough that they can’t hear our conversation.
“You don’t like to be the center of attention, do you?” I ask.
“No, not really. I would prefer to be the one sitting in the back of this wedding reception,” she admits with a nervous laugh.
I adjust my hold on her so that I can help hold up the train of her dress while we move around the dance floor together. She has good rhythm, and it’s easy to dance with her. We’re notdoing anything complicated, only a few simple steps, and she’s letting me lead.
