Corbin’s hand finds my stomach, his palm steady and reverent. “How do you feel?”
I take a long breath, one that reaches somewhere deep in my soul. “Happy. Overwhelmed. But mostly happy.”
“Me too,” he murmurs, and kisses me like a promise.
Then he grins, pulling back just enough to say, “We’ve got an hour before the living room fills up with our people and we’re officially husband and wife again.”
“Then we better pull ourselves together,” I laugh, even though neither of us is letting go.
***
I walk through the living room with a bouquet of scarlet amaryllis in my hands. My fingers tremble slightly, not with nerves, but with awe. The simple white dress, long-sleeved with a delicate train, fits like it was made just for today. It’s not extravagant, not showy. But it’s perfect.
My first wedding dress had been beautiful—elegant, dramatic, magazine-worthy. We were married in a sprawling church with vaulted ceilings and more than two hundred guests, most of whom we barely knew. It looked like a dream. But this? This is what it feels like to wake up in the middle of one.
The living room is full, but not crowded. Every person here matters—Tate, Sarge, Connie, Deanna, Pearla, Leo, Tom, Trey, and Flor. They’re our people. Some new faces, but the ones who’ve stood with us through the messy middle. The ones who saw what broke and cheered for us anyway.
Sarge stands beneath a plastic arbor wrapped in cedar branches, red poinsettias, and warm fairy lights. The whole thing is a little crooked. And yet, it’s perfect.
Tate shifts beside Corbin at the front of the room, both of them in matching black suits. Tate’s cheeks are pink from excitement, and he keeps looking between Corbin and me like he can’t believe this is real. Like maybe he’s afraid if he blinks, it’ll all disappear. But it won’t. Not this time.
My heart swells as I walk to them, to the life we’ve chosen again. Only this time, with eyes wide open.
Corbin takes my hand as I pass off the bouquet to Connie. His thumb strokes over mine like he’s trying to memorize the moment.
Then we face each other.
Tears blur the edges of my vision as Sarge begins speaking. I don’t catch every word—my heart is beating too loudly in my ears—but I nod when I’m supposed to, laugh when I can’t help it, and whisper “I do” like a promise I’ve already been living.
I slide Corbin’s band onto his finger, and when it’s his turn, he surprises me by pulling out a new diamond band to go with the old one. The one I kept hidden all these years.
I gasp softly.
He remembered.
Not the size or shape of the diamond, but the meaning. He remembered what mattered.
Because the band… it was never just jewelry to me. The engagement ring was a question, a promise. The band was a vow.A declaration. A life tethered to another. Even when everything fell apart, the band still felt like it belonged to me.
Now it feels like it always belonged tous.
Corbin slips it onto my finger and whispers something I don’t quite catch, but I feel it all the same.
We seal everything with a kiss. Not rushed, not showy. Just deep and anchoring and home.
We walk back down our makeshift aisle together and stop at the Christmas tree, hand in hand, hearts steadied by something stronger than ceremony.
Deanna snaps photo after photo on her phone, laughing between shots as she tries to get everyone smiling at once.
Tate runs to us and squeezes between our sides, and in that moment, it doesn’t matter where we’ve been or what we lost. This is what we kept. This is what we’ve rebuilt.
We sign the marriage license on the living room table, between a plate of cookies and a vase of cedar sprigs, and then we grab our plates and dig into a delicious brunch—scrambled eggs, bacon, biscuits and gravy. It’s not flashy. It’s not extravagant.
It’s just love. Honest, weathered, deeply-earned love.
And it’s everything.
We gather around the Christmas tree, the soft twinkle of lights casting a warm glow across the room. Wrapping paper litters the floor like confetti as we pass out gifts and take turns opening far more than we probably deserve. There’s laughter. So much laughter. Leo and Tate squeal with excitement as they build something elaborate out of LEGOs while Pearla snaps pictures and Tom tries to keep up with the instructions.
