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Lots of lofty words that land like heavy snow through the happy haze around my brain.
I feel so verydearly beloved.
And for me, Grant is the only beloved I’ll ever need.
I don’t know how I even hold still while the priest recites the vows, the long litany of passages from the book, everything that makes this ceremony complete.
It’s just a formality, I suppose.
Everything becamerealthe moment I saw Grant standing there, waiting for me without any hesitation or doubt in his smile.
But finally—finally, we’ve arrived.
My heart just about bursts as the priest calls for the rings.
Grant takes the simple gold wedding band and slides it on my finger, then leans in close, whispering, “Check the inscription later.”
Smiling, I nod, a silent promise as I slip the ring onto his finger.
Those coarse, weathered knuckles fight the confines for a split second before the gold band settles snugly. He flexes his hand like he’s testing how it feels, the weight of it, before his hand laces in mine, ring to ring, absorbing our heat together.
And when the priest says, “Do you, Grant, take Ophelia to be your lawfully wedded wife...”
“I do,” Grant answers.
His voice is rolling thunder, this gruff whisper I imagine only I can hear, this secret just for us, but the crowd strains forward, listening intently.
I do.
My heart beats in sync to those words as the priest turns to me. “And do you, Ophelia, take Grant to be your lawfully wedded husband?”
I become the butterfly again, fluttery and full of shiny things.
“I do,” I whisper.
Then the entire gathering erupts into clapping, shouting cheers.
The priest says something about pronouncing us husband and wife.
I’m completely deaf to it.
Grant and I are the only stillness left in the noise around us, completely locked on each other.
I can’t sense anyone else when I’m already home, becoming Ophelia Faircross.
“You may now kiss the bride,” the priest announces.
Grant rakes his eyes over me, then sweeps me close, pulling me against the hardness of his body.
“Hello, wife,” he rumbles.
I laugh, twining my arms around his neck, showering pollen from my bouquet into his hair as I stretch toward him.
“Hello, husband.”
His mouth twitches with repressed laughter.
I can’t help fixating on it as he leans in closer.Closer.
