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He pulled me back into his chest and continued to stroke my hair until at last, the shakes subsided, and we just lay together, calming in the sounds of each other's breaths.
"I love you," I murmured into his chest. "So much. The thought of losing you...Brandon, I just couldn't bear it."
The hand in my hair paused, and I felt the pressure of his kiss at the crown of my head.
"Right back at you, Red," he said. "My world just doesn't work without you in it."
After a few more beats of silence, a thought occurred to me, one that filled my chest and my body like a balloon. Everything about the idea felt right. Yes, I thought. Now.
I sat back up and faced Brandon, pushing my hair out of my face and wiping the tears from under my eyes. "I want to get married."
He raised a brow and smiled. "Well, I thought that was the plan."
I shook my head, causing my hair to fall back into my face. I spit it out of the way, which only made Brandon grin wider. Well, that was fine. I'd look like a hapless idiot anytime if it meant making him smile like that.
"No," I said as I blew another strand away. "I mean now. Tonight. Here."
Brandon frowned with confusion. "In the hospital?"
I nodded and sat up completely, suddenly consumed with the idea. "There's a chaplain and a chapel on the main floor. The chaplain could come up here, I know it, and we could ask one of the nurses to be a witness. We'd have to apply for a marriage license tomorrow in Atlantic City or someplace like that, but Brandon, I could take care of that, and––"
"Red," Brandon put in gently, turning me back to face him with a gentle finger on my chin.
I stopped talking.
"It's two-thirty in the morning, baby," he said with another small grin. "I don't think the chaplain is awake right now."
My heart sank in my chest. Of course. How stupid of me. Obviously it wasn't what Brandon wanted anyway. He wanted his friends and family, a real ceremony where we would announce our love for each other. Now that the campaign was done with, we were free to have the wedding we had originally wanted at the Cape, the kind with flowers and planning and whatever else went into something like that. He didn't want something quick, something the papers would cry about as a bad choice too fast. I should have known.
"But Red?"
I looked back up at him, all the negative thoughts still swirling around my head. My right hand automatically started toying with my ring.
"Let's wake him up," Brandon said with eyes so wide I thought I might fall into them.
"Really?" I whispered, clutching my fingers together.
Brandon pulled both of my hands to his mouth and kissed my knuckles, one after another. "There's nothing else I'd rather do today than become your husband, Skylar. Will you marry me in the morning, Red?"
I gazed at him, locked in his wide blue stare. My ring sparkled in a stream of moonlight seeping through the blinds. This man was my everything. I had been his from the first moment I'd seen him, bound to him for always. And by some miracle, he was mine too. I hated that it took me so long to accept it, as he seemed to have done from the beginning, but now we were here. I could see our life together unfolding before us, and I wanted nothing more than to start it. Right away.
"Yes!" I whispered back fiercely. "A thousand, a million times, yes!"
Brandon pulled me close for a firm kiss, but it quickly turned into something much more involved, despite the fact that we had to be careful not to disturb his incisions. We stayed like that for what seemed like hours, licking, nibbling, savoring each other's lips and tongues. For once I wasn't thinking of anything that was, or anything that might be. I was only thinking of us in this moment. I wanted nothing more than this.
"In the morning," he kept saying in between kisses. "In the morning, you'll be mine."
With every kiss, I tried to tell him the words that came from my heart, not my head. He didn't need to make me his. I already was.
~
In the end, it was more like what we'd planned originally than I thought it would be, only without the backdrop of the Cape. My dad put on his best black pants, white button shirt, and the one tie he owned to walk me down the aisle of the little chapel in the bottom of the hospital. Bubbe brought flowers and blintz. Jane, who had flown in as soon as she had heard of the shooting, had picked up an early version of my wedding dress, which luckily didn't need much more than a few pins to hem the skirt.
It was the only part of the previously planned extravaganza that had felt like mine. In the midst of the bombast––the flowers, the band, the massive church venue and the press coverage––my dress was only for me. Simple, cream-colored satin that hung from my shoulders with delicate straps, draped almost casually over my breasts and down my hips in a bias-cut that recalled the classic style of the thirties, the dress allowed me to move freely. A light matching shawl provided the modesty required by a church wedding, but without the pretense of a cathedral, I could keep my shoulders bare.
After Kieran had pushed me out of Brandon's room so one of the nurses could help Brandon into a suit, the hospital staff let me use an empty hospital room to get ready. Jane pulled my bright red hair back into a simple chignon at the base of my neck, and had done my makeup lightly, letting my freckles shine through with just a bit of mascara and a pop of lip gloss.
"He doesn't want anything fancy," she murmured to herself, almost admiringly as she worked. "The most beautiful thing in the world to that man is you."
