Rosalyn releases his arm when they reach the front, kissing his cheek and then mine before taking her seat in the front row beside Mitchell. Ivan steps up to stand across from me.
"Hi," he whispers.
"Hi," I whisper back.
Up close, he's even more gorgeous. His eyes are swimming with tears that haven't fallen yet, making the pale blue even more vivid. I want to reach up and touch his face, trace the line of his cheekbone, brush my thumb across the corner of his mouth where I know a dimple hides when he smiles.
But I keep my hands at my sides and let Pastor Daniels begin.
"Dearly beloved," she begins, her voice warm and steady and carrying across the small gathering, "we are gathered here today in the presence of family and friends to witness and celebrate the union of Ivan Collins and Jay Morrow."
Ivan's hand finds mine, and I hold on tight enough to leave marks.
"Marriage is not something to be entered into lightly," Pastor Daniels continues. "It is a commitment, a promise, a declaration to the world that two people have chosen each other—not just for today, not just for the good days, but for all the days that follow. The hard ones. The impossible ones. The ones where choosing each other is the only thing that gets you through."
She pauses, looking at us both with eyes that have clearly seen their share of weddings, but still seem genuinely moved by ours.
"But I suspect," she says gently, warmly, "that Ivan and Jay already know something profound about commitment. About promises kept across years and miles and impossible circumstances. About choosing each other, again and again, even when the world tried its hardest to pull them apart."
I squeeze Ivan's hand harder. His fingers tighten around mine until I can feel my pulse throbbing.
"Love is patient," Pastor Daniels says, beginning the familiar passage. "Love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs."
Ivan's eyes are locked on mine. The pale blue is almost silver in this light, shimmering with unshed tears that make them look like water.
"Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres."
Those eyes. I could drown in those eyes. Even when his face got fuzzy in my mind, even when I couldn't quite recall the exact sound of his voice, I remembered his eyes.
"Love never fails," Pastor Daniels finishes softly.
She lets the words settle over us.
"Ivan and Jay have written their own vows," she says, looking between us. "Words they want to speak to each other, promises they want to make in front of all of you. These are the vows that will guide their marriage, the foundation on which they will build their life together. These are the promises they're choosing to make."
She turns to Ivan. "Ivan, whenever you're ready."
Ivan takes a shaky breath. He reaches out and takes both my hands in his, his fingers trembling visibly against mine. His are so full of emotion I don't know how he's still standing upright.
"Jay," he begins, and his voice cracks immediately on the single syllable, breaking apart. He laughs wetly, wipes his eyes with his shoulder, takes another breath. "Jay, I've been trying to write these vows for weeks. I kept starting over, throwing things out, telling myself nothing was good enough, nothing could possibly capture what you mean to me, what you've always meant."
He pauses, steadying himself visibly. I watch a tear escape and track slowly down his cheek. He doesn't bother to wipe it away.
"But then I realized—the words I need have been with me since I was twelve years old. You gave them to me the night before they took you away from me."
My throat tightens painfully. I know what's coming, and I don't know if I can survive it.
"You held my face in your hands," Ivan continues. "You looked into my eyes, and you said, 'Whatever happens, don't forget me. Remember my name. Say it back to me so I know you'll remember.'"
He squeezes my hands so hard it almost hurts, but I don't care. His eyes bore into mine, and I can see the twelve-year-old boy in there, the one who was so terrified of losing the only person who ever protected him.
"And I said it back," Ivan whispers. "I said everything you told me to remember. Jason Michael Morrow. Birthday March 15th. Born in Macon, Georgia. Mother Rebecca Morrow, maiden name Thorne. Scar on the left hand from the glass bottle." He shatters completely on the next words. "Safe place is a beach with white sand and blue sky and seagulls."
I'm crying now. I can't help it. The tears are streaming down my face unchecked, and I don't even try to stop them.
He takes a shuddering breath, trying to steady himself enough to keep going, his chest heaving.
"For seven years, those were the words I held onto like a lifeline. Every single night before I fell asleep, I said them out loud in the dark. Jason Michael Morrow. March 15th. Macon, Georgia. Rebecca Morrow, maiden name Thorne. Scar on the left hand. Beach with white sand and blue sky. Over and over, like a prayer. Like a promise I made to you that I wouldn't break."
