Page 381 of Saving Forever with the Hockey Captain

There’s a quiet confidence with which he pulls me a little closer, unconcerned with who might be watching.

As we sway together, I become aware of movement around us. Jamie's parents step onto the dance floor first. His father draws his mother into his arms with the comfortable familiarity that comes from decades of choosing one another. There is nothing rehearsed about the gesture. Nothing dramatic. Just the quiet confidence of a love that has been faithfully lived.

Across the floor, my father offers his hand to Mom. She smiles exactly the way she did on their anniversary last spring, and suddenly I'm eight years old again, watching them dance in the kitchen while supper simmers on the stove.

Coach and Becca join them.

Then Caleb and Brooke. Paige and Liam. Foundation volunteers. Neighbors. Keisha steps to the floor with a handsome teen in a full blush. Then I can see why – out best man Toby joins with three little girls all teaching him the steps, which can only be described as adorable.

One couple after another drifts toward the music until the dance floor is filled with people whose stories are all different, yet somehow beautifully alike.

I rest my cheek lightly against Jamie's chest. Jamie lowers his head until his forehead rests lightly against mine.

"What are you thinking?"

I smile.

"I'm thinking I married the right man."

His eyes soften.

"I was just thinking I married the right woman."

The music continues around us while laughter drifts softly through the reception tent.

For one perfect song, the rest of the world quietly fades away. And I realize that my favorite memory of our wedding won't be the vows or the photographs, or even the beautiful ring sparkling on my hand. It will be this. The first dance with my husband.

In that moment I truly understand that forever doesn't begin with a promise.

It begins with the quiet decision to keep choosing each other, one ordinary day at a time.

***

The applause that follows our first dance slowly fades as dinner begins, but the warmth of Jamie's hand remains wrapped around mine.

Someone insists we sit long enough to eat.

Someone else insists we need another photograph before dessert.

Liam insists the cake should be sampled immediately "for quality control."

No one gives his suggestion the consideration that he clearly believes it deserves.

For a little while, everything settles into the comfortable rhythm that seems unique to small-town celebrations. Conversations overlap from one table to the next. Coffee is poured. Children weave happily between chairs while grandparents pretend not to notice the extra cookies disappearing from the dessert table.

I lean back for just a moment and simply watch. Not because I'm tired, but because I don't want to miss any of it.

Jamie's laugh catches my attention from across the table. Colby has apparently reached the dramatic conclusion of another story, complete with enthusiastic hand gestures that nearly sends his iced tea into Caleb's lap.

Caleb rescues the glass without looking up from his plate. "You know," he says calmly, "most adults use words."

"I am using words."

"You've added interpretive dance."

Liam nearly chokes on his dinner laughing.

***