By the time I reach him, I’m trembling.
He reaches for my hands, warm and steady and grounding.
“You okay?” he whispers, voice rough.
“Completely,” I breathe.
His thumb strokes the inside of my wrist—the most intimate touch—before he turns me gently toward the minister.
The ceremony is small, simple, sweet. Holly stands right by us, hugging her baskets like a secret security assignment. Snow drifts in lazy spirals around us, catching in Ash’s hair, melting on my eyelashes. A hush settles over the entire mountainside as we speak our vows.
Ash’s voice is calm but breaks once.
“Lucy… you brought color into my life. Light. Heat. Things I stopped believing I’d ever have again.” His hand tightens around mine. “You’re my spark. My calm. My storm. My home.”
My breath shakes, tears stinging my eyes.
When it's my turn, my voice wavers. “Ash… you protect without controlling. You love without fear. And you’ve given me a family I didn’t know I was allowed to want. You’re my safe place. My fire. My heart.”
His thumb brushes over my knuckles, slow and faintly possessive in a way that melts my knees.
When the rings come, Holly digs through the wrong basket first. “Oops,” she says loudly, then tries the second. “Aha!" She hands them to the minister with exaggerated care.
People laugh softly.
Ash slides my ring slowly onto my finger, eyes locked to mine the entire time as if committing every millimeter of the moment to memory. I slide his on next—big, warm hand trembling just slightly.
When the minister says, “You may kiss the?—”
Ash doesn't wait.
He pulls me in with a hand to my waist and kisses me right there in front of the entire town.
Soft at first. Gentle. Snow clinging to our lips. His hand slides up my back, drawing me closer until my body molds to his. The kiss deepens, heat curling inside me despite the cold mountain air. Someone whistles. Someone cheers. Holly squeals, “FINALLY!”
Ash pulls back just enough to breathe against my mouth. “Mrs. Calder.”
A shiver tears down my spine. “Say it again.”
His eyes darken. “Mrs. Calder.”
I kiss him again because how could I not?
Afterward, while everyone gathers for hot cocoa and cinnamon rolls, Ash slips his hand into mine and leads me toward the horse-drawn carriage waiting at the trailhead. White horses with red blankets. Sleigh bells. Snow dusting the seats like glitter.
“It’s beautiful,” I whisper.
His arm curls around my waist from behind, chin brushing my shoulder. “You deserve beautiful.”
My breath trembles.
“You ready?” he murmurs.
“For what?”
“For forever.”
I turn to him, heart full.
