Page 32 of Heart Breaker

Me: I love you too.

“You ready?” Wes asks as we stand together just outside the chapel doors.

Ready? Not one bit. But I nod anyways before we step inside.

The room is small. There are a few rows of simple chairs set up facing the front, though they’re all empty. A narrow aisle leads to where the officiant stands, a small podium waiting in front of her. There’s a soft arrangement of white flowers off to the side—nothing over the top, just enough to make it feel like more than a courthouse.

Nothing about this moment is the way I thought it would be. There is nothing borrowed, nothing blue. No family and friends celebrating it with me. I know this is just an arrangement, but part of me wishes it felt like more than that.

The officiant smiles as we approach, warm and welcoming in a way that immediately puts me at ease.

“Hi,” she says gently. “You must be Lottie and Wes.”

I nod, suddenly very aware of how fast my heart is beating. She gestures for us to step closer, positioning us in front of her, and I can feel the shift as we take our places—like we just crossed an invisible line between almost and happening.

“I think we’re ready to start,” she says, her tone soft as she looks between us.

And just like that, the ceremony begins.

All I can think about is that my dad should be here. He should be walking me down the aisle. He should be sitting next to Mom in the front row, both of them dabbing at their eyes as my husband and I exchange our vows, then clapping when we’re pronounced husband and wife.

They should be here, but they’re not.

Because none of this real.

The officiant starts speaking, her voice calm and practiced, something about commitment and partnership and choosing each other. It comes through in pieces, words breaking through the clutter in my head and in my heart.

Marriage.

Promise.

Forever.

I swallow. This isn’t forever. But standing here in front of him in my white dress, it doesn’t feel as simple as it did when I agreed to this arrangment.

Taking a deep breath, I force myself to look at Wes. His expression is controlled like it always is, but there’s something else there too. Something quieter, like there may be more going on under the surface than he’s willing to let anyone see.

“Are you okay?” I mouth as the officiant continues talking.

He nods almost imperceptibly and mouths, “Are you?”

I nod as well, but I’m acutely aware of my pulse, of the way it won’t settle, especially under Wes’s gaze. He hasn’t looked away. The officiant asks Wes for the rings, and he reaches into his suit pocket and pulls out two simple platinum bands.

Her words reach me, but they sound distant and garbled like I’m underwater.

The officiant pauses and nods at Wes, cueing him forward. His hand is steady as he slides the ring onto my finger. “I do,” he says, voice even.

It fits perfectly.

The room is silent when the officiant places the second band in my hand. And then it’s my turn.

“Do you, Charlotte Hart, take Wesley Winters to be your lawful wedded husband? To comfort, honor, and keep, in sickness and in health, for as long as you both shall live?”

Just two words, and everything changes.

“I do.”

I lift Wes’s hand and slip the ring onto his finger.