Emma carried them forward in a small cedar box Theo had made. Inside lay Reid’s brushed platinum band with a fine green line through its center and my wedding band designed to sit beside the blue engagement ring.
Reid took mine first.
His hands still shook.
This time he did not hide it.
The celebrant spoke the formal question.
He answered before she finished.
“Yes.”
Laughter broke through the tears.
He slid the wedding band onto my finger.
Metal settled beside metal.
Past and present.
The ring he had chosen before the accident and the one we had chosen together afterward.
I took Reid’s hand.
His new ring caught briefly on his knuckle.
“Problem?” he whispered.
“You have inconvenient hands.”
“You measured.”
“Your knuckles became dramatic.”
He laughed.
The band slid into place.
I looked at it.
A simple circle.
No promise that nothing would change.
A promise that change would not have to be faced alone.
The celebrant asked me the question.
“Yes,” I said.
Then, because the single word felt too small, I added, “Completely.”
Reid closed his eyes.
When the celebrant pronounced us married, the loft erupted before she reached the part about kissing.
Reid cupped my face.
