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I thought of my fear the night before. I thought of my trepidation the first time Neil had told me he loved me. And I remembered the day in the hospital, when his health had turned and his survival had seemed improbable, at best. I’d wanted to run, then. I’d wanted to run so many times.
The music fell quiet. Then, it started again. And my heart seized.
It wasn’t the song we’d decided on. This was undeniably Neil’s doing. Though the tempo was slightly picked up, and there were no lyrics, no mournful piano, I knew, and Neil knew, what it was. “Fljótavík,” by Sigur Rós. We will come out the other side of this, Sophie. And we’ll be stronger for it. He’d held me that night, after our abortion, after our break up, days after he’d revealed that he had cancer, and he’d translated the Icelandic lyrics for me as I’d lain in his arms. He’d stayed with me that night, and all the nights after. He’d made the choice to stay with me, even though we’d only been together for a few weeks. Even when I had betrayed him.
He could have run.
“Ready?” Shelby asked, but the curtains were already drawing open to form the gilded proscenium from which I’d emerge. As they did, I saw him. Down in front, beneath an elegant, gold-tinged white chandelier, was the only man I’d trusted with my heart. The man who would never, ever run.
His tuxedo was the truest black I’d ever seen. It was a custom Brioni he’d agonized over almost as much as I’d agonized over my dress. The perfectly tailored jacket and the peaked lapels emphasized the breadth of his shoulders. The man could somehow make a bow tie look perfect, even when I thought they looked doofy on everyone else.
But it was his face as he looked at me that melted away any last silly doubt in my mind. He took a breath that visibly raised his chest, even from so far back. His lips parted; his throat moved above his collar. He looked nervous. He looked incredible.
He looked like my future.
Our eyes met, and in that moment, I didn’t want to run from him. I wanted to run to him. The joy in me broke over the dam of reason and respectability, and I couldn’t stand to be so far from him. Damn the pictures, damn the propriety, and damn the wedding planner’s possible heart attack. I didn’t walk down that aisle.
I ran.
Ignoring Holli’s yelp of surprise and the brief tug at my train as it slipped from her grasp, I threw caution—and my fear of falling—to the wind. The speed of my steps increased until I was finally at his side. He intercepted me before I could crash into the officiant, thank god, and crushed me in his arms.
The murmurs of surprise, low chuckles, and a few cheers from our guests broke through my happy fog, and I blushed self-consciously.
“I don’t suppose we need to ask if you do,” the officiant quipped, and there was more laughter. I dipped my head, and Neil took my hand, winking at me over his pleased half-smile.
“Dearly beloved,” the minister began. “We are gathered here today to bear witness to the marriage of Neil Charles Leif Elwood and Sophie Anne Scaife, two souls seeking union in the sight of God and the love of their families and friends.”
Neither of us were huge on the God thing, but we’d agreed that it would cause much less drama from my mother and grandmother if we included it.
“Neil,” the minister prompted. “Do you take Sophie to be your wedded wife, to cherish her love and her friendship for as long as you both shall live?”
“I do.” His eyes were already shining. I trusted his ironclad stoicism would help him rein it in. “I absolutely do.”
I did not have any stoicism, so my voice was uneven and shaky with emotion when it was my turn to say, “Oh, I do.”
A happy tear spilled down my cheek, and Neil reached for the black handkerchief square peeking above his pocket. He carefully dabbed the drop away, a smile of smug satisfaction tilting his mouth. He won the bet. I’d cried first.
“The bride and groom will now pledge their commitment and their love to each other through the vows that they have written. Sophie?”
Holli was at my side in an instant to hand me the folded paper with the printed version of my vows, and my hands shook as I straightened the page. I took a deep breath. Though I’d imagined gazing into his eyes and communicating every word from the depths of my soul to his, there was no fucking way I would keep it together if I so much as glanced up at him.
“Neil Charles Leif Elwood,” I began, trying to remain dignified and not giggle as I read. “I love you, even if you have far too many names. Eight years ago, you saved me. Even if I had never seen you again, you would have been the most important man in my life. Through twists and unexpected turns, you came back to me, and you brought me a love that I couldn’t have imagined in my wildest dreams.” And there was the crack in my voice, right on time. I swallowed and tried to struggle through. “You brought me forever.”
I’d debated that line while writing it. I didn’t have forever with Neil. Our age difference made that prospect improbable. But no one was guaranteed a happy ending. No one was assured of forever, so forever had to be whatever we ended
up with.
“I’ve never met anyone like you,” I went on. “I’ve never met anyone so calm and unconventionally romantic.” I put my hand on my chest, over the necklace, so he would know what I meant. “Someone who can deal with whatever life may bring. When things have been at their hardest, you have given me the strength to keep going. When things have been at their best, they’ve been amazing.
“We’ve already proven our ‘for better or for worse’. But you don’t need to prove your love with words, anyway. You do it every day. You’re the best part of my life, and I will face whatever comes next, not at your side, but as a piece of a whole that will never be split apart. I promise to you that I will be yours, heart, body, mind and soul, for the rest of our lives.”
When I looked up, Neil’s eyes shone, and his lips were rolled tightly between his teeth. “Damn it,” he cursed, wiping his tears away with a handkerchief.
He pulled his own vows from the inside pocket of his jacket as I handed mine back to Holli.
“Elskan mín, Sophie Anne Scaife,” he began, and, with his half-smile, he clearly ad-libbed, “who has too few names.” He went on, “You have been my heart since the day I met you. Though we spent six years apart, there was not a day that I didn’t think of you. On my hardest days, you’re the reason I get out of bed. When I am at my worst, you are the best of me.
“There are some who say that passion fades and love becomes a comfortable thing. An old sweater, or a favorite chair. But, until the day I die, our life together will be an adventure, a journey that will never reach a destination. You are mine, as I am yours, and we will always be. Wherever I am, you will be with me, even when we are apart. I will keep and protect you in heart and body, and care take our union and family with all of my devotion. And I will kill all of the spiders.”
