Everyone rises.
Charlie looks at me.
I look at him.
“Are you ready?” he asks.
I nod. “With you? Always.”
We step forward, hand in hand, walking down the aisle together.
The crowd blurs.
The music fades.
All I feel is his hand squeezing mine.
Two grooms.
Side by side.
Walking into our future.
95
DERRICK
And now it comes to our vows. I’m really trying to be strong here. I clear my throat.
“Charlie …” My voice shakes like I knew it would, and I try to calm my nerves. “From the moment you walked into my life with that ridiculous smile and those abs, I knew I was in trouble. The good kind. The kind that changes you in all the ways you didn’t know you needed. You made me believe I was worthy of a love like this. You made me softer and stronger at the same time. You made every room feel lighter. Every day feel possible. You’ve seen every part of me, the messy, the scared, the loud, the dramatic, and you never once flinch. You meet all of it with patience, humor, and this unwavering loyalty that still takes my breath away. I promise to love you the way you love me, fully, loudly, proudly. I promise to choose you every day. I promise to protect what we’ve built. I promise to be your safe place. And, Charlie, I promise this most of all, I will spend the rest of my life making sure you never doubt for even one second how deeply you are loved. You’re my once in a lifetime. My best friend. My favorite person. My home. I love you. And I can’t wait to spend forever with you.”
Tears fall down Charlie’s face. As he reaches out and kisses my hands, he mouths,“I love you.”Charlie composes himself as best he can as he gets ready to say his own vows.
“Derrick, when you met me, I was broken … but you didn’t see my jagged pieces, instead, you saw a jigsaw puzzle, one you were determined to put back together again. Piece by piece. Brick by brick. You made me want to be better. You made me want to build something real. You are the bravest person I know. The kindest. The most loyal. The most infuriating.” He grins softly, and the guests all laugh at that. “And you are the love of my life. I promise to love you through every season, the beautiful ones, the scary ones, the loud ones, the quiet ones. I promise to hold your heart gently and fiercely at the same time. I promise to listen, even when you’re being dramatic, which …” he makes everyone laugh again, “let’s be honest, is most of the time. And I promise this. You will never face anything alone again. You’re my person, Derrick Jones.”
Now I’m a sniffling wreck. Come on, hurry up and pronounce us husbands so I can kiss the hell out of this beautiful man.
Eventually, finally, we are pronounced husbands, and we both reach for each other, and the kiss is most certainly not wedding-approved, but I don’t care because I love this man. My husband. I have a fucking husband. The barn erupts into hoots and hollers as Charlie and I continue to kiss. Just giving the people what they want.
The marquee glows like something out of a winter fairytale. Fabric drapes ripple softly overhead, fairy lights are woven in long sweeping arcs, fall florals spill from every table, and the heaters cast a warm, golden haze over the whole space. Snowfalls outside in slow, glittering flakes. You can see it through the clear tent panels, but inside there is laughter, clinking glasses, and the low hum of every person we love.
We’re married.
We’re actually married.
Dinner is finishing up, people are buzzing between tables, kids are darting toward the dessert bar, and Charlie hasn’t stopped smiling for at least three hours. Our first dance is done, Christian’s speech nearly killed me, Vanessa and Sienna’s made everyone cry, and the Sinclair brothers managed not to embarrass me(too much).The marquee feels full of love.
I’m mid-bite of dessert when Charlie squeezes my knee under the table.
“Hey,” he murmurs.
“Hey, husband,” I shoot back.
His smile goes nervous at the edges. Not bad nervous. Big nervous. He stands and taps his champagne glass lightly. What is he doing?
The marquee quiets instantly, and everyone looks at my new husband.
“Hi,” he says, breath catching on a laugh. “I won’t keep you long. I know there’s dancing and drinking to get back to, but,” he continues, glancing at me, “there’s a wedding tradition among our friends. One I didn’t really understand until it was explained to me in much detail by them.” What is he talking about? What tradition?
