His throat worked and his eyes welled with tears.
“I didn’t know you would haunt me after that,” I admitted. “I didn’t know I’d think about that moment for four solid years, wondering if I’d imagined you. I didn’t know you’d orchestrate the most fucking insane, ethically questionable, emotionally devastating reality show that never aired just to drag me back into your orbit.”
Henry muttered, “Language,” under his breath.
I ignored him.
“You made choices that hurt me,” I said, letting my voice sharpen. “You assumed the worst of me. You tested my integrity like it was a party game. You made me fall for two versions of the same man without trusting me with the truth.”
Ben didn’t look away. He took every word like he thought I had a right to throw knives at his heart on our wedding day.
“But,” I went on, and exhaled. “When it mattered… when everything fell apart… you let me go. You gave me my autonomy. You gave me the money, and you gave me the choice. You told me the truth even though you knew it would probably cost you everything. And when those men tried to hurt me, you didn’t hesitate. You bled to protect me, Ben.”
My voice went quiet.
“And I realized something,” I said. “I realized that the man who lied to me and the man who bled for me are the same man. Flawed and traumatized and sometimes infuriating… but capable of choosing better. Of being better.”
My fingers squeezed his.
“So here’s my promise,” I said, heart pounding. “I will call you out when you’re being an idiot. I will remind you that control is not the same thing as love. I will fight for you when you start to spiral. But I will also stand with you. I’ll take care of your heart as fiercely as you’ve tried to take care of mine. I’ll be loyal to you. I’ll be honest with you, even when it hurts. And I will never, ever let you forget that you are more than the worst thing that ever happened to you.”
Tears slid down his scarred cheek.
“And in return,” I added, a small smile tugging at my mouth, “I expect cake and ice cream every year on Christmas Eve, because you chose to be born that day and it’s not my fault you have to share your birthday with Jesus.”
Lucia let out a soft laugh, and even Granny Irene cackled from her seat.
Ben’s shoulders shook once, silently.
“I love you,” I said simply. “And I’m choosing you. Not because of your money. Not in spite of your scars. But because you’re you. And I want a lifetime of arguing with you about how to properly load a dishwasher.”
Henry let out a breath I didn’t realize he’d been holding.
“Right then,” he said gruffly. “Rings.”
We exchanged rings, a beautiful silver art deco wedding band joining his mother’s favorite ring on my finger, and a simple platinum band for Ben that Henry had produced from somewhere.
The officiant smiled.
“By the power vested in me, I pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss your bride.”
Ben didn’t hesitate. He cupped my face — gentle and reverent — and kissed me like it was the first and last time all at once. Soft, deep, full of everything we’d almost lost. His mouth moved over mine with a kind of desperate reverence, like he couldn’t believe he was allowed to touch me in front of everyone.
Lucia sniffled loudly. Granny dabbed her eyes with a handkerchief.
When Ben finally pulled back, his forehead rested against mine, breath mingling with mine.
“Welcome home, Mrs. Stonewood,” he murmured.
My chest clenched.
“Still not over the whole pretending-to-be-two-people thing, Mr. Stonewood,” I whispered back. “But we’ll work on it.”
He huffed a quiet laugh that felt like a promise.
The officiant cleared his throat.
“If you’ll sign the license?”
