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I will tell her everything, come clean about my reasons for the proposal. The pressures from my father.
But not now, not yet.
For now, I'll hold on to this happiness, to the promise of a future with Emily, and I’ll deal with the consequences when the time comes.
Emily looks out the window of the cab, her eyes reflecting the passing scenery. "So, Atlantic City, huh? Are we going to hit the casinos after our nuptials?" she asks with a playful smirk.
I laugh, glancing at her. "Only if you promise not to spend all our honeymoon funds on the slot machines."
She giggles, a sound that's quickly become my favorite melody. "No promises. I might have a secret gambling talent you're not aware of."
I snort, but she’s not wrong. There’s still so much we don’t know about each other.
“And I could be a drug lord,” I shoot back.
Emily cackles. “Yeah, right.”
We arrive in Atlantic City, and everything feels surreal.
We find a small chapel, quaint and charming in its own way.
The ceremony is simple, but I’m relieved that there isn’t a single Elvis impersonator anywhere.
As we exchange vows, I'm acutely aware of the weight of the moment, the commitment we're making under such unusual circumstances.
Afterward, we wander along the boardwalk, hand in hand, lost in our own little world.
The sea breeze is fresh and invigorating, and the sounds of the city provide a vibrant backdrop to our conversations.
"I can't believe we just did that, we just got married," Emily says, her eyes shining with a mixture of joy and disbelief. “My family is going to freak.”
"I know. It's a bit crazy, isn't it? But then, where’s the fun in doing everything by the book?" I reply, squeezing her hand.
We stop at a photo booth, capturing the moment in a series of silly snapshots.
Emily pulls faces, sticks out her tongue, and I join in, both of us laughing like children.
"Wait, we need a serious one," she says between giggles, pulling me in close.
The camera clicks, and we have our first official portrait as husband and wife – her head resting on my shoulder, both of us smiling genuinely, happy.
As we wait for the prints, I lift her chin with my index finger and lose myself in the pools of her eyes.
“I don’t care what people will think,” I murmur. “I think I’ve wanted you from the very moment I first laid eyes on you at the gallery. And everything I discover about you makes me love you more.”
Emily squeaks. “You love me?”
I cradle her face and dip my forehead to press against hers. “It’s impossible not to.”
EMILY
As our plane ascends into the sky, bound for London, the excitement of our recent nuptials still lingers in the air.
We're seated in first class, surrounded by the quiet hum of the aircraft and the occasional clink of glasses.
William, ever the charmer, leans closer with a mischievous glint in his eye.
"Ever thought about joining the Mile High Club?" he whispers, his lips quirking up in a playful smile.
