Page 72 of Marry Me Tomorrow
“You may have gathered this already,” I say, “but I need to tell you anyway. You’re right. Jenny and I did get married just so I could be eligible to take ownership of the marina.”
“Oh, Trent,” Grandfather says, his voice breaking. “I’m so sorry I forced you into a marriage you didn’t want.”
“I’m sorry I went behind your back,” I say. “I should have just talked to you about how much the marina meant to me.” I look at my grandfather, a big smile on my face. “But I think you including the marriage clause worked out for the best.”
Grandfather looks up at me more perplexed than I have ever seen him before.
“The marina might’ve been my heart and soul once,” I say, my voice steady despite the storm of emotions brewing inside. “But ever since I met Jenny, my entire heart and soul belong to her.” I hesitate, then add, “Our relationship may have started as a marriage of convenience, a way to keep the marina. But it’s not anymore. I love her. I love her with all that I am.”
Grandfather doesn’t try to hide his tears now. They slide freely down his weathered face. “I know you do, my boy.”
“You do?”
He nods. “Anyone can see that you two love each other as clear as day.”
“You can?”
“Yes,” he says confidently. “I dare say it’s a love like Winnie and mine.”
My heart warms at the thought because I think it is too.
“Jenny is a mighty fine young woman,” he says, “to be so willing to work at the marina and to step in like she has—she’s incredible.”
“She really is,” I agree.
“I’m so happy you have found your very own Winnie. I hope you treasure her and every day you get to spend with her.” Grandfather pauses, his eyes glinting with the sheen of unshed tears. “You’ll never know when it will be your last, and that, my boy, is the scariest thing of all. I thought I would have more time with my Winnie, but she was taken from me too soon. Treasure that Jenny of yours, you hear me?”
“Yes, sir,” I say, my throat tightening.
“Your grandmother Winnie would be so proud of you. So proud of both of you. And so am I.”
“Thank you,” I say, my voice thick with emotion. “That means the world to me.”
He pats my shoulder with a trembling hand. “You’ve been here too long. Why don’t you head on back to your lovely wife. And bring her around for dinner on Sunday, alright?”
“Yes, sir,” I say, my heart leaping at the thought of Jenny.
As I say my goodbyes and head down to the dock, I think about what Samson said to me, to treasure Jenny because I’ll never know when it will be my last day with her.
Unfortunately, due to our agreement, I do know when my last day with her will be. But I’m going to change that. I hurry my steps and get the boat ready to leave, excited to get back home to Jenny.
I grip the wheel tighter, my knuckles whitening as a surge of frustration washes over me. I want to be with her already. I want to tell her how I feel, and I hope she feels the same way. Because if she doesn’t, there is no one else for me. Jenny is it. I want to stay married to her forever.
In this moment, I realize I’m irrevocably, madly in love with my wife.
When I walk into our apartment, the place is empty. No Jenny. My heart dips for a moment, but then I realize I know exactly where she is.
The marina feels almost otherworldly as I walk to her painting cabin. The sun has mellowed, casting long golden rays that glimmer on the water. A heron stands statuesque by the shore, its reflection rippling gently below it. The faint hum of distant cicadas blends with the occasional plop of fish breaking the surface.
When I reach her cabin, music spills faintly through the closed door—soft, lilting. I knock softly before stepping inside.
The world tilts.
Her artwork surrounds me, and I freeze in the doorway, my breath caught somewhere between wonder and disbelief.
A massive canvas dominates the room, it’s presence almost magnetic. It feels like stepping into a dream. The scene is achingly familiar. It pulls me in with quiet reverence. It’s the hanging bridges at Anakeesta.
Suspended in twilight, dark green trees stretch toward the sky, their vast canopies broken only by winding wooden bridges lined with twinkling lights. The entire painting glows as if holding its own breath, waiting. Off to the side, a couple stands in a loving embrace, gazing into each other’s eyes, lost in their own world. My chest tightens. It brings me right back to that night. That kiss.
