Page 43 of Marry Me Tomorrow
We exchange rings, the cool metal sliding over my finger a tangible symbol of everything we’re agreeing to. Then, we reach the final, most pivotal part of the ceremony.
Turning to Jenny, I take both of her hands in mine. They’re warm, steady—a counterbalance to the pounding of my own heart. I know the words I’m about to say will change everything forever, cementing what began as an idea into something real.
“Do you, Trenton Hughes, take Jenny Monroe to be your lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold, in sickness and in health, for richer or poorer, in joy and in sorrow, until death do you part?”
The officiant’s gaze shifts to me, but my eyes never leave Jenny. Her face is a canvas of light and quiet strength, and in that moment, the answer comes as naturally as breathing.
“I do,” I say, my voice firm yet softened by the weight of emotion behind the words.
The officiant nods and turns to Jenny, repeating the same question.
Her focus shifts briefly to him, her expression neutral, unreadable, as he outlines the promises she’s about to make. I watch her closely, searching for even the smallest flicker of doubt. But when she turns back to me, her hand tightens around mine once more—a silent declaration of her resolve.
“I do,” she says, her voice clear and unwavering, the words carrying an irrefutable strength.
The officiant smiles, his gaze sweeping across the gathered guests. “Then by the power vested in me by the state of Tennessee, I now pronounce you husband and wife.”
Cheers erupt around us, a wave of sound that feels distant, almost muted, as I’m pulled deeper into the moment. I barely catch the officiant’s next words. “You may now kiss the bride.”
Oh, this—this I’m going to enjoy.
Jenny’s eyes meet mine, bright and filled with laughter and joy. Her eyes briefly fall to my lips then back to my eyes. My chest tightens, a surge of something I can’t name sweeping through me. I release her hands, one moving to brush a stray strand of hair from her face while the other lifts her chin gently.
As our lips meet, I’m tentative at first, mindful of the crowd around us, of the weight of expectations. But before I can pull back, Jenny leans into me, her presence as electric as a lightning strike.
My hands shift instinctively, one cradling the back of her head, the other drawing her closer against me. Her arms wrap around my neck, pulling me in, her kiss deepening with a soft, breathy sigh that sets my senses on fire.
I’m drowning in her—her scent, light and floral, the warmth of her body pressed against mine, the way she moves with a confidence that leaves me completely undone. My heart races as I lose myself in the moment, the rest of the world falling away. I tip her back and deepen the kiss, wanting this moment to last forever.
Then, a subtle clearing of a throat brings reality crashing back in.
I reluctantly ease Jenny back upright, my hands lingering on her waist as I step away just enough to appease our audience. Her cheeks are flushed, her eyes sparkling with mischief and something deeper—something that mirrors the chaos swirling within me.
To anyone who didn’t know the truth, we must look like we’ve been deeply in love for years. To everyone here, there’s no hint of the arrangement that brought us together.
But I realize, as I watch her, that the lines between what’s real and what’s not are blurring.
I think—I might actually be falling in love with her.
“Everyone, for the first time,” the DJ announces, “please help me welcome Mr. and Mrs. Hughes!”
We step into the barn-turned-reception hall. The space is transformed, beautifully decorated. Strings of twinkling lights drape across the wooden beams above, casting a soft, warm glow that makes the room feel magical no matter where you look. Each table is adorned with pink and yellow centerpieces, crafted around old-fashioned lanterns that flicker gently. The lights reflect off the polished wood floor, illuminating the room with a cozy, romantic ambiance. In the center, a dance floor gleams under the glow, inviting couples to sway under the stars created by the string lights.
We make our way through the crowd, the sound of applause and cheers echoing around us. The scent of fresh flowers and sweet vanilla from the candles in the lanterns hangs in the air. I help Jenny settle into her seat at the head table, my hand resting on hers for a moment longer than necessary.
“Everything looks so beautiful,” Jenny says, glancing around in awe. Her eyes shine.
I turn to take it all in too—the lights, the decorations, the joy on everyone’s faces. But nothing is as captivating as the woman standing next to me. “You look beautiful,” I reply, leaning in to press a soft kiss to the back of her hand.
She laughs softly and swats my arm playfully, a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. “Oh, you. You’ve said that at least a dozen times now.”
“I can’t help it,” I say, grinning. “Your beauty has cast a spell on me.”
She laughs again, the sound like music in my ears, as the caterers arrive, placing our plates of food before us.
My grandfather Samson makes his way toward us, his expression one of warmth and pride. He reaches out, shaking my hand firmly. “Jenny, you’re a sweetheart, and we welcome you into the family.” His gaze shifts to me. “Trent, my boy, I never thought I’d live to see this day. Just don’t muck it up, and make sure it lasts.”
I can only nod, his words sinking in.
