An archway is being set up, wreathed in white roses and climbing ivy, with rows of white wood folding chairs facing it, cushions being tied to the seat of each chair and a cluster of white roses and baby’s breath fastened to the side of the backrest of the chairs on the aisle. In another area more people are setting up clusters of large round tables, draping them with tablecloths and setting places and arranging centerpieces. There’s a bar, a stage for the band, and a small square of parquet flooring for dancing.
Overseeing it all is Jen, working in coordination with a wedding planner.
Jolene squeals, kicks her feet, and clings to my neck, burying the end of her squeal of excitement in my neck. “Today? How? How could you have arranged this?”
“We’ve been planning it since I put the ring on your finger. I spoke to Dr. Miller and got a pretty firm idea as to when they’d officially, finally release you, and we planned the wedding for today.”
“But just the other day you were talking about me making decisions.”
I grin at her. “A dodge, to throw you off the scent. I knew the only thing that mattered to you was actually getting married, and I wanted you to be able to focus on recovering, not having to deal with the stress of planning a wedding.”
She sniffles, her face still nuzzling my neck. “Oh, Wes.”
“Did I get it right, babe?” It’s hard to tell if she’s happy crying or upset crying.
She nods. “Yes, my love, you got it right.” A hiccup, and a sniffle. “I’m so happy. God, I’m so happy. This is real? This is my life?” She pulls away and searches my eyes. “I really get to marry Westley Freaking Britton? Today?”
“In just a few hours,Iget to marry Jolene Freaking Park.”
She arches an eyebrow. “Excuse me, sir. I unofficially already changed my last name to Britton.”
“Well, today, you officially become Mrs. Jolene Britton,” I say. “I have the paperwork ready for you to sign.”
She squeals and kicks her feet again, and then abruptly straightens. “Ohmygod. I need to get in the shower.”
I laugh. “You have time, honey. Here’s how I have things planned out, although you can change it if you want. Right now, I have a chef ready to make us a big breakfast. You get cleaned up while that’s being prepared. Then Chloe, whom I’m sure you remember from our date, for glam. There’s also Frederick, your dressmaker. He’s got a rack of dresses crafted to the fit from the last dress he tailored for you. You pick your favorite, and he’ll tweak the fit so it’s perfect.” I carry her to the bed and sit with her on my lap. “That will happen in here, while I get ready in the guest room. Your mom, Grandma, Macy, and Beth will be here to help you pick your dress, so it’ll feel like a real wedding dress-shopping experience.”
“And then we get married, and I finally get to become your wife,” she finishes.
I cup her cheeks in my hands. “And then we get married, and I finally get to become your husband.”
“I know it’s ridiculous, but it feels like I’ve been waiting for this for a long time.”
“And yet, it’s only been a few months since I showed up at your door unannounced.” I kiss her, quickly, softly.
She shakes her head, a tear sliding down her cheek. “It’s hard to even remember my life without you in it. It’s weird.”
“Same.” I pass a thumb across her cheek. “Now. You go get in the shower. I’ll get Chef Maribel working on our breakfast.”
She grabs my wrist, holds my hand as it rests cupped against her cheek. “Thank you, Wes.”
“For what?” I ask, laughing. “What if I’m doing all this just for myself?”
She sniffs a laugh. “You’re absurd.” Her lips touch mine. “Thank you. For being brave enough to love me. You took a chance on me, and you…you were there through the scariest time in my whole hard, scary life.” Another kiss. “I won’t ever be able to express how grateful I am to you.Foryou. I can just promise that I’ll spend the rest of our lives together loving you as hard as I possibly can.”
I’m tempted to make a joke about how she already gave me a taste of that last night—and this morning. But she’s being honest and vulnerable, and it’s not the right moment for that humor. Instead, I kiss her back, as softly and tenderly as I know how.
“I love you, Jolene.”
For a moment, we just hold each other, breathing together.
Then, after a while, she pulls away and stands up. Heads into the bathroom and turns on the shower.
I watch her for a moment, greedy for every glimpse of her naked beauty that I can get, but then I have to get things moving.
We have a wedding to get ready for.
* * *
