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Brooklyn
Three Months Later . . .
“Oh, sweetie,” my mom breaks down into her third crying fit of the day.
“Mom, stahhhhhppp,” Mallory says as I fan my face, trying to keep myself from crying.
“It’s just such a big day and I’m so happy for you, Brook, sweetie.” She grabs my hands in hers. “He’s a wonderful man. Your father is so impressed with him and your brother just thinks he’s the coolest dude.” She says the last word attempting to sound hip, and it makes Mal and me laugh.
“Thank you, Mom. Do I look okay?” I smooth down the front of my dress, pausing briefly on my bump, which has finally started to show. I explained it away as stress weight between work and Tyler being shot.
“Your boobs look massive,” Mallory says, eyeing them.
“Well, that comes with weight gain sometimes. Way to make me feel confident on my big day.”
“No, in a good way! Trust me, I’d pay top dollar to have those.”
The dress I chose has plenty of room. It has a very flowy, bohemian feel that matches the crown of wildflowers my veil is attached to. Since our wedding is outdoors beneath a flower arch, and our reception is in a barn, I’m also wearing the first pair of real cowboy boots I’ve owned. They were a gift from Tyler, complete with our names engraved on the inside.
“Isn’t it crazy that just 10 months ago, you showed up to this town not knowing a single person and taking on this amazing new job . . . and now you’re marrying the love of your life and creating this new journey for yourself?”
“Mal, now you’re going to make me cry.”
“I’m just so proud of you, sis. I hope you know that. I know you were so unhappy back in Chicago for so long, and I’m just glad you’re finally getting everything you deserve.” She gives me a hug and hands me my bouquet. “Now, are you ready to go marry this dude and have sex with one man for the rest of your life?”
“What the hell?” I laugh. “Although, trust me, it’s almost like a different person every few days with that man. He’s got so many fun sides.” I wriggle my eyebrows at her and she leans in.
“Is he still doing that thing with his belt?”
I blush and shush her. “Hey, Mom is right there!”
She giggles and we exit the room to make our way downstairs, where my dad is waiting to walk me down the aisle.
Tears stand on the brim of his eyes as he waits patiently for me at the bottom of the stairs. He holds out his arm and I loop mine through it as Mallory lines up with Trent to walk down the aisle.
“You ready for this, honey?” My dad squeezes my hand that’s looped through his arm.
“More than ready.”
I slowly exhale and drop my shoulders back as a huge grin spreads across my face.
“Okay, then. Let’s do this,” my dad says as I take the first step toward the rest of my life.
The wedding is stunning:simple, elegant, everything we wanted.
We each wrote our own vows that we read aloud to each other. We both promised to choose each other through everything in life—that no matter what happened, our love would keep us strong during storms.
A few weeks back, when we had our 16-week ultrasound, we both decided that we wanted to be surprised with everyone else at the wedding reception regarding the sex. The doctor wrote it down and put it in an envelope that’s been taunting us ever since.
We make our way into the barn for the reception, where strings of twinkling lights create a canopy above us and wildflower petals are scattered on the floor beneath us.
Tyler holds my hand tightly in his as he leads me out onto the dance floor. The soft sounds of Shania Twain’s “From This Moment On” begin to play through the speakers.
“So, Mrs. Slade, how does it feel to be a married woman?” The deep timbre of Tyler’s voice resonates through my body, which is pressed firmly up against him.
“It feels good, unreal. How am I married to you?”
He smiles. “What do you mean?”
