This wedding? This one comes with thought, love, and more knowledge about each other and what we’re getting into.
When I reach him, he takes my hands immediately, like he doesn’t trust himself not to reach for me if I take another step. His palms are warm. Solid. Familiar. His thumb brushes my knuckle, a habit he does when he’s checking if I’m okay.
Silas breaks his gaze from mine, just for a moment to look at the officiant, this one not dressed in a shiny gold suit, and nods. The officiant smiles and keeps things short. We’ve already said the legal words. Today is about the truth.
Silas is first to say his vows.
He clears his throat and exhales like he’s trying to steady himself. And then he talks about football—because of course he does. “I’ve spent my whole life around football,” he says. “Preparation. Discipline. Learning how to take a hit and get back up. The game taught me how to be tough.”
He pauses, eyes dropping before lifting back to mine.
“But marriage taught me something harder.”
The space between us feels electric.
“How to stay,” he says. “When it would be easier to walk away. When things get messy. When I’m tired down to the bone.”
He tightens his grip on my hand.
“I play a position where you don’t get to look away,” he continues.“My job is simple on paper—pick my person and don’t let them go. Study them. Anticipate their moves. Stay with them, step for step, no matter how long the play lasts.”
His voice roughens.
“Loving you has taught me that real strength is protectingwhat matters. Showing up even when I’m exhausted. Choosing each other even after we’ve seen how hard things can get.”
His thumb presses into my hand.
“I choose you,” he says, voice low and certain. “Every down. Every drive. Every season.”
My throat tightens, because leave it to him to turn football into a love language.
These vows aren't about proving anything.
They’re about choosing each other—again.
When it’s my turn, I don’t pretend to be graceful or poetic. That’s never been my lane. So I tell the truth instead.“I study the weather for a living. I know how powerful it is. How even small shifts can change everything. I also know that nothing meaningful comes without risk.”
I take a breath, grounding myself.
“Loving you is scary—because I know exactly how much you could hurt me. I didn’t give you my heart blindly. I gave it to you completely, knowing the damage was possible.”
My hand tightens in his. “Recommitting isn’t romantic. It’s brave. It’s choosing each other after we’ve seen the storms, not before.”
I swallow. “You taught me that trust isn’t blind faith. It’s built slowly—with consistency, forgiveness, and a lot of honesty. It’s earned every day.”
His smile nearly blinds me. Looking at me with pride.
“I choose you,” I say. “Every down. Every day. Even when it’s hard. Even when the wind knocks us sideways.” I laugh lightly.
He doesn’t wait for permission to kiss me. But it isn’t rushed or showy. It’s deep and grounding and like he’s sealing a promise he has every intention of keeping.
Cheers explode immediately—loud and echoing across the prairie. And as the sun sinks and the sky turns gold and fire and purple, the string lights flicker on across the grounds.
He pulls away, slightly. Just enough to catch our breath.
“Remember that wish we made in the Bellagio fountain?” he says against my lips.
“Yeah.”
