One Year Later
It was the perfect summer day. The scent of sun-warmed grass and the mismatched bloom of flowers hang in the air, now tinged with the smoke from a barbecue and chopped wood.
The sunset shimmers on the lake's surface, ripples of orange and blue creating the perfect backdrop.
The perfect place. The perfect day.
None of it compares to the look in Bowen's eyes right this moment. He looks at me like he can already see tomorrow. Like he can paint our future in his mind and see every memory we'll ever share.
“Until death do us part,” I finally say, lips trembling over a smile I once thought I'd never feel again.
Bowen has tears shining in his eyes. He shakes his head, grasping my fingers.
“Not even then, kitten,” he whispers, then chokes on a breath when Ian hands me the band. I bite my lip when I slide it onto Bowen’s finger.
My husband.
My best friend.
My heart.
“Aw, man,” Ian says, sniffling next to us on the dock. Bowen and I stand just off of it, under the arch of wildflowers and twinkle lights. “Man, just kiss him already.” Ian holds the paper he read off to his chest, officiant roll over. Now he's just our friend, crying happy tears.
I chuckle, but Bowen looks as serious as ever when he pulls my face to his. He doesn't kiss me. Not right away. He holds my head, thumbs on cheeks and fingers in my hair, and gently touches his forehead to mine.
“I said forever, kitten, and I mean it. You and me.”
“Forever, Boe. Always.”
The trees rustle with the wind that blows as soon as our lips touch. The last rays of sun warm my face, and I smile against my husband's lips. It feels like Brett is here with us.
He's in the wind dancing around us. He's in the spaces around the people that love us, cheering from the white chairs in the grass. He's in the eyes of Sheila, holding her hands against her chest. He's in Tucker's slow clap and Emery's cat whistle.
He's sitting in the first empty chair, in the first row, smiling at us from the framed picture Bowen placed there when he walked down the aisle to wait for me.
He's stitched into my heart.
Just like Bowen is.
Bowen finally smiles too, pressing another kiss against my lips before pulling back.
“Mr. Briggs,” he murmurs, clearing his throat and fixing my tie.
“Mr. Briggs,” I say, grinning so hard, my face aches.
“Give me a second.” I quirk a brow but watch my husband jog over to the end of the first row, and Tucker slides something out from under the chairs. Bowen gives him a fist bump, then he jogs back. He hands me arickety looking sign. It's jagged on the sides, crooked. I turn it around and laugh.
Briggs Swamp
He smirks, taking my hand. Together, we press the sign into the ground next to the lake.
My heart feels so full, it could burst.
Our family swallows us when we finally walk back over to the aisle. Sheila, my mom, and Jo all swarm. We're covered in hugs and kisses and pinched cheeks. Sheila holds me a beat longer, her perfect hug filling me with the sort of nostalgic ache I can appreciate now.
“He would have been screaming louder than anyone here,” she whispers in my ear. “I think he is, Kit. He's here; he wouldn't have missed this.”
Tucker gives my hair a rustle and rolls his eyes when he sees the tears still annoyingly leaking down my face. They started the moment I looked down the grassy aisle at Bowen waiting for me.
