Music starts playing, and I recognize it as the piece I told the woman who came up to Maggie and me as we were getting out of the car and demanded to know what I wanted as my processional.
I’ve played the standards—the Bridal Chorus fromLohengrinand the trumpet pieces that people often walk in to—but those didn’t feel right to me. Or maybe I’ve just played them so many times I’m sick of them. So I went with the Gavotte from Bach’s Partita in E Major for unaccompanied violin. The D minor Partita is my favorite, but since this one’s happier and more uptempo, it feels more appropriate for a wedding.
When I meet Jason’s eyes, standing there in his gray suit, white shirt, and sapphire blue tie, a pink rose pinned to his lapel, he gives me an encouraging smile. And I take that as my cue to start walking.
The music continues until I stand in front of Jason, his blue eyes brilliant as he smiles at me, and he reaches for my hand. Maggie steps up and takes my bouquet, and then I’m standing face to face with Jason, my hands grasped in his. His friend starts talking, and he must say something funny because everyone chuckles, but I’ve missed it. I miss nearly all of it—though it’s pretty short, at least I think so—until Jason is repeating his vows, “I, Jason Chalmers, take you, Hailey MacKay, to be my wedded wife. To have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do us part.”
That last line hits me like a punch to the gut. We both know that we’re not going to last until death do us part. Why did he let his friend keep that part in?
But before I can say anything—and besides, what exactly am I going to say right now in the middle of everything?—it’s myturn. Bouchard gently repeats my first line when I don’t say it right away.
Clearing my throat, I lift my chin and say it. “I, Hailey MacKay … do take you, Jason Chalmers …”
And almost as quick as it began, it’s over, and Bouchard’s saying, “You may now kiss the bride.”
My eyes go wide, and Jason steps in close, kissing me chastely on the lips, but that’s not good enough for our tiny audience.
“Aw, come on, man!” shouts his other friend. “You can do better than that!”
Jason’s eyebrows raise as he looks at me, and he gives me an almost sheepish grin before stepping in close, his arm slipping behind my back as he pulls me against him, his lips covering mine.
It’s still a chaste kiss, as these things go. But it lasts longer than the peck from a second ago, his lips the right combination of soft and firm against mine, and he even bends me back a little before righting me to the whoops and hollers of his friends.
“That’s what I’m talking about!” the other guy crows, and Bouchard claps Jason on the shoulder.
“Congratulations,” he says more quietly, then offers his hand to me. “And to you, Mrs. Chalmers.”
The name echoes in my ears. Mrs. Chalmers? That can’t be right.
Jason laughs it off and makes an offhand comment about me keeping my last name, which, yeah, of course I am.
We hadn’t even discussed that.
It didn’t occur to me that there was any other option. Would I want to change my name?
I mean … maybe? If this were real.
Like, really real. Like we weren’t planning on eventually getting divorced. Like if he weren’t just marrying me because hefeels guilty and wants to make sure I’m taken care of after what he sees as neglecting me for years.
“Sorry,” says a voice behind me, and I turn to face her. “I think I forgot to introduce myself before. I was just caught up in trying to make sure you had music. I’m Marissa.” She smiles, offering me her hand to shake.
“Hi. I’m Hailey.”
Her grin grows wider. “Oh, I know. You’ve been the topic of many conversations lately. The whole team is very curious about you, especially since Chalmers skipped Abernathy’s barbecue last week to take care of you.”
“I told him he could go without me,” I protest.
Marissa nods. “I believe you, but obviously he didn’t listen.”
“When does he ever?” I playfully gripe.
“Ha. Tell me about it.”
“Hey!” her boyfriend objects. “I listen!”
“Of course you do, sweetheart,” she says. Then to me, in a lower voice, “Bless his heart.”
This is met by a chorus of, “Ooooohh,” from the guys.
