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When I turn back to Tyler, his attention sweeps me from the hem of my purple dress, to my body, to my flowers, to the necklace, to my face, lingering on my lips before coming to my eyes.
“Nice dress,” he murmurs. His lips twitch in appreciation.
“You said once that you wished you’d given me that night. Prom, I mean.” I think of our conversation back in college, the longing and the heartache and the regrets we carried then.
“I don’t need prom. I’ve had every second since. All of our past, our present, our future.”
My eyes burn, the warmth matching the warmth in my soul as the officiant clears her throat.
She takes us through the simple ceremony we chose. Each word echoes in my ears, my mind, but it’s the man in front of me and the family around us—the ones we were born with and the ones we chose—who make this moment beautiful. Holy.
Beck passes us the rings.
“Tyler,” I murmur, “I give you this ring as a symbol of my love.” I finish the words we were instructed to say before going off book. “But really, you see it every day. Every time I look at you, every moment we spend together, it’s a testament to my love for you. We have many identities, some put onto us through blood or circumstance. I’ve struggled to figure out who I was, but one thing I’ve always been is yours.”
I slide the ring onto his finger, and it settles against his knuckle. Nothing has felt so good.
His jaw tics, those dark chocolate eyes filled with love and anticipation. As if he’s been waiting for this moment as long as I have.
“Annie, I give you this ring.” His voice is clear and strong, underwritten by so much emotion. “Because giving you rings is what I do.” His mouth twitches, and the guests laugh too. “The first time I gave you a ring, I didn’t want you to forget me. But that’s not enough. You’re on this adventure, and all I want is for you to take me with you.”
The swelling in my throat is so intense I can’t breathe, but I don’t need to. Especially when he slides the ring home, where it nests with the engagement ring.
He takes my face in his hands, holding me not as if I’m precious, but as if I’m real and he wants to assure himself of that.
“I love you,” he murmurs. “Always.”
“Always.”
