Total pages in book: 22
Estimated words: 20619 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 103(@200wpm)___ 82(@250wpm)___ 69(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 20619 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 103(@200wpm)___ 82(@250wpm)___ 69(@300wpm)
“Shut up and take me. Make love to me like I’m your fiancée.”
“Gladly. Because you are,” I say, laughing at our cheesy jokes.
We’d face struggles, hardships, and heartaches. Those are just unavoidable parts of life. But all of those pains would be lessened and endurable with her by side. We’d face them together, overcome them together, and enjoy the rewards of our efforts together.
She’s my girl. My woman.
And will soon be my wife.
EIGHT
savannah
I stand in front of the mirror, looking at the gorgeous flowing gown I’m wearing. We are standing in front of the mirror where Char, my former boss at the diner, just helped sew a piece of ribbon back in place. It got snagged on a branch while I was outside for my individual portrait photographs.
“Are you sure you’re ready for this? This all seems a bit too quick for my tastes.”
“Just wait until you meet the one. I’ve never been so sure of anything in my life, Char.”
It’s funny how my former boss ended up my maid of honor. I didn’t exactly have a lot of options, but when I never got back to her about why I was MIA, her voicemails and texts became more concerned in tone. She was worried that I was kidnapped and murdered, and that was the reason why I didn’t return her calls. When I finally filled her in on my whereabouts, she was happy to hear I was alive and couldn’t wait to meet my fiancé, even if she thought I was a little crazy for diving in head first.
“I think it’s funny that you fell madly in love with some bumpkin from the woods,” she says, tending to my dress, keeping it properly fluffed up. “A very hot bumpkin, but still a bumpkin from the woods.”
“He’s shown me that life can be different, that it doesn’t have to be nonstop stress and anxiety. I honestly don’t know how much longer I could have kept it together living with my father, with how everything was going.”
“A good man can do that,” she says, putting her hands on my shoulders. “I’m proud of you. For holding it together until life finally turned around.”
The music begins to play, signaling the main event of the day. We have a mixture of more modern music and traditional wedding tunes, but when it comes time to walk down the aisle, we include the “Wedding March.” We’re outside Evergreen Valley, enjoying an outdoor ceremony. For Hunter, it was natural, since he was such an outdoorsman. For me, it’s because I never want to be confined to the city again, and everything being out in the open is symbolism.
Despite all my certainty, I couldn’t help but feel nervous as hell as I waited for my turn to walk down the aisle.
My father isn’t here. I don’t consider him my father anymore, but I don’t really know how to refer to him otherwise. I’ll be going down the aisle alone, no one to give me away. Which really works for me. I always found that tradition odd anyway.
Hunter is already at the altar. He cleans up fantastically well. He does look uncomfortable in a tuxedo, but I don’t think I look natural in such an elegant gown either.
The march’s crescendo hits, and I know that’s my cue. I head down the aisle, walking steadily and softly, not wanting to trip over myself. I know Hunter’s friends have cameras rolling, recording the event for us to revisit all we want, in the coming decades, and I kind of want to avoid that non sequitur of comedy.
I reach the altar without incident, and privately cheer myself on for my accomplishment. Hey, I’m no fancy girl. The nicest dress I wore before this one was nowhere near as frilly, and I can count the days on one hand where I’ve ever worn heels.
The veil is lifted off my face by Hunter. He looks my way, his smile beaming. We did stick to this tradition, him not seeing me in my wedding gown until this moment. With how awkward I wore it, I did worry that it wouldn’t suit me, but Hunter disagreed. “You’re just beautiful, baby,” he says, quiet enough for me to hear but not ruin the dignity of the moment.
The officiant, Pastor Michaels, recites the vows. A feeling of warmth and devotion flooding me as he speaks about us choosing to loving, to hold, to honor, and in sickness and in health. I look at Hunter, swelling with pride for the hometown man.
Finally, we’re asked the big question. Will you take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife?
“I do,” Hunter says, without hesitation.
My turn? “I do,” I say, equally ready and with just as much enthusiasm.
After the pastor pronounces us husband and wife, we’re instructed to kiss, and we do just that. We demonstrate our love, for the whole town of Evergreen Valley to see. Well, as much as they can see without us being arrested for public indecency.