“He’s a decent bloke,” Henry quickly adds. “But you don’t have to marry the man, if you don’t want to.”
“You can stay with us,” Anna says. “No one’s going to force you to get married.”
Rose’s soft brown eyes slide to me, and despite the urge to yell at the couple I thought were my friends the heat in her eyes convinces me to remain silent.
I’ll respect her decision. Even if she rejects me and marries another man. I’ll respect it.
If she says no, it won’t just sting. It will hollow me out.
I didn’t expect to want her this badly. I expected duty. Companionship. A partnership that would grow with time.
Instead, I’m standing here hoping foolishly that she chooses me.
“I’ll marry him.”
Tension I didn’t feel melts off my bones. Since she stepped off the stagecoach I’ve been hers. I didn't think that our connection what form so quickly or so deeply. But here I am. Hers for the taking.
“Shall we?” I ask indicating the church and offering her my arm once more.
The wedding is simple. Henry’s small family watches as Father Adams leads us in our vows. The words are plain, and the bride is wearing a pale lavender dress that is stained and wrinkled from traveling.
Standing across from Rose it’s the wedding of my dreams.
“You may kiss the bride,” Father Adams says.
I lift the veil up with reverence.
Rose tips her chin up, her face tilting slightly so that her unscarred cheek is presented to me. I won’t have it. My knuckle taps her chin, her lips parting in surprise a split second before I cover them with mine.
Soft and supple, her lips give way under mine. She’s got a spine made of steel, but her kiss is sweeter than sin. If not for our audience, I wouldn’t stop at one. I’d kiss her until my heart and lungs gave out.
It takes Father Adams and Henry clearing their throats for me to break the kiss. Rose’s brown irises are swallowed by her pupils, and her lips are slick and pink from my kiss.
“Congratulations!” Anna cheers.
Keegan wakes up, his lungs louder than the howling winter winds. Anna and Henry wince, making their apologies as they rock their son and leave the church.
“Sunday dinner,” Anna calls out before they exit through the heavy oak doors.
We say our goodbyes to Father Adams, and with my new bride clinging to my arm we make our way to the house. It’s a small house in town with a decent sized yard. Nothing too fancy, but it has three bedrooms and indoor plumbing, which is more than some houses in Porterville can claim.
I’m damn proud of it. When I first set up my store, I didn’t have the funds to buy a house. I slept in the backroom using sacks of flour as pillows. I paid for that house five years ago with profits from the store.
I want her to like it.
She takes it in quietly, brown eyes sweeping the space. It’s not much. Furniture I ordered from catalogs, and little else. I know women like to personalize their homes. They match fabrics, collect knick knacks, and add splashes of color to every room.
I should know, they buy it all from me.
“Anything you don’t like, we can change,” I tell her. “Anything at all.”
She’s distracted, walking through the living room and into the kitchen as I trail after her. Remembering the fabric Henry gave me, I offer it to her and watch her eyes light up in appreciation.
I can hardly hold a grudge against the man when he’s the reason my wife’s smiling. Even if he did offer her a way out.
“Let’s get you settled in,” I tell her. She follows behind me as I show her the bedrooms.
“I’ll understand if you don’t want to share my bed,” she tells me when I show her the second room. “Either of these will be fine.”
