Page 378 of Saving Forever with the Hockey Captain

The Celebration

I keep looking at my wedding ring.

It catches the late afternoon sunlight every time I move my hand, sending tiny flashes of light dancing across the white fabric of my dress. I've probably admired it a hundred times since Pastor Ron pronounces us husband and wife, yet somehow it still doesn't feel entirely real.

Neither does the man walking beside me.

The path from the chapel to the reception tent curves gently along the lake, giving us a few quiet moments before we rejoin everyone we love. The laughter drifting toward us mingles with birdsong and the soft rustle of leaves overhead, but for now it feels as though the rest of the world has respectfully stepped back.

Jamie's fingers remain laced through mine. Every now and then his thumb brushes lightly across my knuckles, as if he needs the reassurance as much as I do.

"So..."

He glances over with that familiar smile. "So, we're married."

"We are."

I lift my left hand again, unable to help myself.

"I still can't believe this ring belongs on my finger."

"I know exactly how you feel."

"You do?"

"I keep looking at you."

My cheeks grow warm. "And?"

"I'm still trying to convince myself the woman beside me is actually my wife."

For a moment I simply look at him. I've spent months learning the determined hockey captain. The stubborn patient. The exhausted man who slowly allowed me to see the heart behind the captain's C. Today I meet someone new.

My husband.

The word settles gently inside me, carrying far more weight than I ever imagined one word could hold. As we reach the entrance to the reception tent, applause erupts from inside.

"They're hiding!" Liam calls.

Jamie laughs beside me, and I realize with surprising certainty that this sound—his laughter—is one I'll spend the rest of my life protecting.

We step beneath the white canvas together. Everything glows in the golden afternoon light. Long farmhouse tables stretch the length of the tent, wildflowers brighten every centerpiece, and strings of café lights wait patiently for evening. It isn't extravagant. It doesn't need to be. It feels exactly like Briar Cove should feel.

Then I hear it.

"Mrs. Walker!"

I turn just in time to see one of the foundation children racing toward me. Before I can answer, he throws both arms around my waist. "I liked you even before you got married," he announces solemnly.

I laugh and kneel so we're eye to eye. "I liked you before I got married too."

"You still have to come skating."

"I promise."

He studies me for another second before nodding with complete satisfaction and dashing away again.

I remain kneeling for just a moment longer. Mrs. Walker. The name feels wonderfully unfamiliar. When I accepted my sports medicine rotation in Frostholm, I expected temporary patients, temporary coworkers, and temporary memories.