Page 102 of Heartstrings & Horseshoes

“Delilah, do you take Connor to be your lawfully wedded husband? To cherish, honor, and love, in sickness and in health, in seasons of plenty and in seasons of need, and to be true to him in all things as long as you both shall live?”

“I do.” The golden heartstring solidifies into unbreakable, unbendable steel, binding us together, forever.

“You’ve chosen to exchange rings as a symbol of your unending love. As you place this ring on your love’s finger, please repeat after me,” the officiant says.

Connor takes the ring box from his pocket and hands me his thick band and holds my thin band between his fingers.

He takes my left hand in his and vows, “With this ring, I choose you through all the changes life may bring us.”

The band slides onto my finger, nestling perfectly against my engagement ring.

Our hands dance, shifting for me to hold his left hand between mine. “With this ring, I choose you through all the changes life may bring us.”

I place the ring on his finger and my heart skips at how much I love seeing him wearing proof of our commitment.

“By the power vested in me by the state of Nevada, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss your bride.”

Time stops, and in the split-second day overtakes night, Connor slides one hand up my neck and clasps our left hands together between us. I grab onto his shoulder for dear life and our lips meet. His kiss heals every broken piece inside me and promises a lifetime of love and joy, beneath the perfect sunrise.

“I love you, Delilah.”

“I love you too, Connor.”

We move to a small podium and sign our marriage license, and for the first time, I sign my name Delilah Anne Hayes. CJ and the newly minted Isabelle Andersen sign as our witnesses and relief floods my body as the last thread to my parents is cut—never again will I be a Tate.

The photographer ushers us to begin our first dance as a married couple. I laugh with delight as our song plays from hidden speakers. He places his cowboy hat on my head and gives it a little tip-up with his knuckles to see my face. We slow dance, no one to impress, nothing to prove—to none other than the great Randy Travis.

“You’re mine, baby, forever and ever.”

He presses the sweetest kiss to my lips before I whisper, “amen.”

Izzy and Reid slow dance in the shadows, giving us our moment.

CJ gives the photographer a run for his money, snapping pictures on his phone for us.

Our song ends, and we’re led back inside the chapel to cut our cake. Airy, sweet lemon crumb is the perfect complement to the tart lemon frosting.

“Mmm! My favorite. Connor, you really did all of this?” I ask, devouring my slice of wedding cake.

“Of course I did, dollface. I’ve been thinking about this day for a long time. I wouldn’t settle for anything less than perfection for my wife.” He playfully licks a smear of frosting from the corner of my mouth.

I shiver, both from the wet heat of his tongue, and from being called his wife.

The woman from the chapel boxes the rest of our small cake and kindly escorts us out with our paperwork and instructions on how to get our photos.

Izzy’s hand finds mine and gives me a squeeze.

“I’m so glad you came,” I say

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

Reid wraps his arm around her shoulders and tips his head to a car waiting in the valet.

“Livy’s going to have a conniption she wasn’t here.” I cringe.

“We’ve got it covered. Don’t stress about it for a single second,” Reid assures.

“Time to get back to our own honeymoon,” Izzy says with a wink.