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That’s impossible. The dress has been dry cleaned. It can’t have carried the scent of the hospital with it. The lights feel too bright. My lungs ache from trying to breathe the dry, antiseptic air and my ears are filled with the distant beep of machinery. The sight of myself in the mirror on the closet door, with wide eyes and messy hair is too familiar. It’s the same woman who stood in that hospital bathroom in her wedding dress, the same woman who kissed his still, blue lips.
“But he’s not dead,” I gasp, needing to hear the words aloud. “He’s not dead.”
I slam my hands over my eyes, my body quaking.
Strong arms wrap around me and lift me off the floor. “El, baby, what is it?”
When all I manage to do is shake my head, he carries me down to our bedroom. He sits in the easy chair with me on his lap. His soothing voice is in my ear while I slowly calm down. “I’ve got you. You’re alright.” His hand stroking the back of my head is comforting.
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry. Tell me what happened.”
“It’s my wedding dress. I can’t stand to look at it. All I see is myself in that bathroom mirror after they told me you were dead.”
“Oh, sweetheart,” he breathes, holding me tighter. “It’s alright.”
“It’s not. I thought I could get past it or just get a different dress, but anytime I even think about putting on a wedding dress or planning the wedding…” I shake my head and bury my face in his chest. “I’d give anything to go back and not let you get in that car.”
His hand rubs up and down my back and he murmurs, “That’s why you haven’t wanted to set a date.”
“I want to be your wife. More than anything else in the world, Den. I don’t think I can do it. I don’t think I can get through a wedding. I’m so sorry.”
He stands up, turns around and places me back on the chair. My heart falls when he walks away, but I can’t blame him. After all we went through, now I’m telling him I can’t marry him?
My face is buried in my hands when he returns, and he pulls them away. “Look at me, Ella.”
His dark eyes, full of emotion, stay locked on mine while he slips a wedding ring onto my finger. He holds up his hand and slides his own on as well. “You’re my wife now. Do you understand? I don’t need a legal declaration telling me you’re mine forever any more than I needed one to tell me I was alive. When you’re ready, we’ll have whatever ceremony we want eventually or none at all. We can elope to Vegas or go down to the courthouse to sign a sheet of paper. Fuck the wedding dress and decorations and all that. You can wear whatever you want. It doesn’t matter.”
Tears stream down my face. “I can never lose you again, Den. I don’t care about a wedding. Just you. All I need is forever.”
“I beat death to return to you. Nothing gods or men throw at us could keep me from coming back to you. I’m not going anywhere.” He touches his ring to mine. “Not without my wife.”
* * *
Even after two months of wearing it, it feels surreal to look down and see a wedding ring on my finger. It’s like I have to keep reminding myself that yes, Alden is my husband now. The courthouse option was as easy as he predicted. Just yesterday, I got my driver’s license with my updated name. Every now and then I take it out and stare at it. It’s right there in print. Ella Stokes. My name change came through just in time. With our baby due in a month, I wanted our last names to match.
Despite the growing discomfort of late pregnancy, these last months have been the best of my life. I’ve lightened my schedule significantly at work and in two weeks, I’ll be closing my studio temporarily for a much happier reason than the last time.
Today, I’m restless. My appointments are finished, and I don’t want to go home. Alden has been preparing to clean out Oliver’s old apartment above the shop. He’s not thrilled that I want to help, but since I’ve promised not to overdo it or lift anything heavy, he agreed we’d work on it together this afternoon. He can handle the heavy stuff while I sort things and decide what can get tossed or donated.
Seeing Alden’s motorcycle parked in front of the shop puts a smile on my face. He’s only recently gone back to riding it. It’s always been such a part of who he is and yet another piece of himself that he got back.
Milo, Hudson, and Joanna are standing around the front counter when I get inside the shop. Hudson calls out as soon as I enter. “Good lord, girl, you got big fast! That baby is going to crawl out.”
It’s been a while since I’ve been here during business hours and my belly has really grown recently. Before I can say anything, Joanna steps up beside him and backhands him in the chest. “What’s the matter with you? You don’t ever say that to a woman!”
“What? She’s pregnant not fat! I didn’t say she was fat!” His eyes dart around, and he nods toward Milo. “Milo has a girlfriend. She’s moving in with him.”
A snort of laughter escapes me at his effort to throw Milo under the bus to take the focus off himself. Milo’s deadpan expression when he turns to look at him just makes it funnier. Hudson sneaks a sideways glance at him then takes off toward the back office.
“You look great,” Joanna assures me.
“Thanks, that’s sweet of you. Did you get a new tattoo?”
She holds her arm up where I can see the detailed owl with outspread wings. “It’s just healed.”
“It’s gorgeous.”
