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Claudette notices and snatches the paper from his hand.
“Umm, we best go straight to te wows. I won’t talk fer much longer. But don’t worry, it will only last a day… or two.”
My eyes widen. Is she for real?
“Forget the vows. We need to get you medical help,” I say, turning to Tiero for backup. He doesn’t like that idea at all.
Too bad. I get he wants us to start the new year married, but Claudette has a medical situation here.
“No, it will pass. I promish,” Claudette insists. “I’ve only shtopped breathing once.”
At Rhia’s and my shocked expressions, she lifts her hands once more in a placating gesture and mumbles, “Joking.”
But the sound is muffled and next to me Rhia cries out, “You’re choking? Oh my god! Put her on the sled and get her to a doctor. I’ll call 911.”
Rhia pats down her dress, looking for her phone before remembering it’s in her jacket. She sprints down the aisle to the sled to find it.
“No!” Claudette tries to shout, but it comes out more like a croak. “I know how hoo handle hiss. Hwust me.”
Tiero fetches another bottle of water from the refreshments table, unscrews the cap and hands it to her. Grateful, she downs most of it.
“Will antihistamines help? We have some back at the cottage. I can go and get them.”
She waves him off dismissively. Th’ thamage’s thun. Shhtop, everyone, makin’ a big deal of hiss. I’m fine,” she insists. “Les marry yu wo.”
Her lips have almost doubled in size now too. It looks like a botox injection gone wrong.
“Wher’ wer’ we?” she asks, scratching her head. “Ah rit… wows.”
She shuffles toward the center of the altar again and smiles broadly.
I’m sorry to say, but it looks creepy as hell, and I hastily turn my attention to my fiancé, taking his hands in mine.
“Will yu, Galhiewo Leandwo De Mahco, hake Ella Wose O’Neil to be yer lawf’ll wedded wife? In sickness ‘n in health, fer better or worse, ‘til death do yu parh? Promish to chewish ‘n honor, keepin’ and lovin’ all hee days of yur lives.”
Amusement tinged with mild concern dances in Tiero’s eyes as he listens to Claudette’s butchered words.
Somehow this mishap makes this ceremony even more special. It’s perfectly imperfect.
Tiero’s eyes meet mine, their hazel-brown depth calling to my soul.
“I do.”
“Ant do yu, Ella Wose O’Neil, tak Galhiewo Leandwo De Mahco to be yer lawf’ll wedded hushband? Fer better or worse, fer rich’r ‘n’ poorer unt’l yur last breahh?”
I smile up at my husband-to-be, drinking him in. Everything inside me is calm. Everything inside me is certain. I want to spend the rest of my life with him.
“I do.”
Claudette turns to Lex, who passes her a small dish with our rings. With a lopsided smile, she motions for us to take them.
Tiero takes my hand and slides the rose gold ring, encrusted with tiny diamonds, onto my finger. I feel the weight of a thousand promises settling with it.
The ring, a circle of eternity, gleams and sparkles in the torchlight. Our eyes meet, and in that moment, I see a lifetime of laughter, tears, and everything in between.
I stare at the ring on my finger. Nothing has ever felt so right. As I look up into Tiero’s fiery gaze, the world fades away, and it’s just us—two souls intertwining in a dance only love knows.
Tiero places his hand over mine, letting his eyes drop to the shiny metal on my finger. He touches it almost reverently, and murmurs, “Mine.”
