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Chapter Twelve
Nick
The moment I see her, I feel something so profound, so completely in my heart that it just makes everything right in the world.
It’s her.
Stunning.
Breathtaking.
That’s the only way to describe the incredible woman who now stands at my side.
I grab her hand as soon as she’s within reach and bring it to my lips. There’s a slight tremble, though I’m not sure if it’s her hand or mine. Probably both. She looks up at me with so much excitement, so much happiness, that I don’t pay any attention to the man standing in front of me, speaking.
I should probably pay attention, right?
But I can’t.
I only see her.
My Meghan.
“Repeat after me.”
And I do. I say the words, feeling them with every fiber of my being, as I vow to stand by her side, to love and protect her, till death do us part. It’s an easy proclamation to make, since it’s nothing but the truth. Her eyes fill with tears as she repeats the same vows as me, but she never wavers, never falters.
I know what is next.
When she suggested this part in the ceremony, I was completely one hundred percent behind her – or beside her.
Holding her hand tightly in mine, we walk over to the two empty chairs. Sobs echo around us as she reaches down and grabs the corsage and the single red rose. There’s definitely a shake in her hand, but she remains steadfast and collected. She also squeezes my hand with everything she has.
Together, we walk to the shore. The waves are gentle as we approach. I help her hold her dress up as she kicks off the white flip-flops she insisted on wearing. I do the same, removing the tan slip-on boat-style shoes I’m wearing for my beachside wedding. I let go of her hand, only long enough to grab her dress. Side by side, we step into the cold water until it’s lapping against our ankles. I reach for the corsage, the one made with the same white flowers as her bouquet, and together, we gently set it in the water. The corsage bobs up and down before slowly floating out into the Bay.
Then, she takes the rose. The single red rose that symbolizes love. Her love for a man who is no longer here. The one who held her hand and her soul before me. The one who died, leaving behind an amazing woman with the biggest heart, and I’m the lucky bastard who now holds that heart in my hands, cherishing and loving it with everything I have.
With trembling hands, we set that rose in the water and watch it slowly drift away.
The symbolism isn’t lost on me, and I’m sure, not on Meghan either.
We stand together, our fingers entwined, as we watch both flowers float away. When I turn in her direction, she’s not staring at the flowers in the water. She’s looking at me. She’s smiling with so much love and hope in her watery eyes that I almost drop to my knees right there in the water and thank the stars above for this gift I’ve been given.
Her love.
I switch hands, making sure that her dress doesn’t fall into the surf (and let’s not forget how much I want to rip that dress off her later), and guide her back to the sand. Our feet are wet, so we decide to forego shoes and simply walk back up to the trellis and finish this thing with bare feet. I love it, almost as much as I love her smile.
The minister says a few things, but I have no idea what. Her eyes sparkle like emeralds, and that’s all I see. Her.
“You may kiss the bride,” the man says with a knowing grin.
You don’t have to tell me twice.
I pull her into my arms and steal our first official kiss as man and wife.
Wife.
She’s mine.
Forever.
