Marriage isn’t something to take lightly. As sudden as this change of plans is, it’s not like I’m running to the nearest drive-through chapel, drunk as a skunk. I’m choosing to join my life with the person I love. And it’s not so much that I feel I have to marry him because of some warped, twisted sense of there’s no Chloe without Jonah like I think some blinded romantics do, it’s more ... marriage is our promise to one another, one we are choosing to make.
A ring isn’t needed to do that. Neither are vows. People can promise each other their hearts and support and never need a piece of paper.
But I like the idea of this bit of forever binding us together anyway.
That’s not to say I’m not a nervous wreck as I wait alone in our bed. Love, as we discussed earlier, is not simple in the least. It’s funny how I can be so certain of my love for him, of how right it feels to be with him. And yet, part of me feels like it’s crushing in on itself because, by marrying Jonah, I will officially be forced to let go of any hold I have on Kellan.
I wish love were simple. I wish that, in this moment, all I felt in my heart was happiness. I’m going to marry the man of my dreams in just a few days. And oh gods, that does make me happy. It really does.
I just wish my happiness didn’t come at the cost of somebody I love so very desperately.
Jonah was gone for so long that I ended up falling asleep. In the morning, though, he tells me that Kellan wants to talk to me. He tells me this quietly, tiredly, before going into the office and shutting the door behind him. Minutes later, Kellan comes up the stairs and joins me in the living room.
I love him, I think as he sits down across from me. I love him, I think as he looks up at the ceiling and then back down at me, so much raw pain shining out of his eyes. I love him, I think as he tells me he’s going away.
“Where?” I ask quietly.
He doesn’t know.
“How long?” I whisper.
He doesn’t know.
“When?”
Now, he says. Today.
He tells me this is how it has to be, and then he tells me, as tears betray my attempts to remain calm, that he’s genuinely happy for Jonah and me. That he wishes us nothing but the best, and I believe him because I know he loves us just as much as we love him.
Don’t leave, I think as he stands up.
But he leaves anyway.
“Are you ready?”
It’s a question I’ve been asked so many times in my life, for so many different reasons. Was I ready to Ascend? Be on the Council? Fight the Elders? Accept my Fate? Forge forward on my own path? And now, here I am, being asked this question by Cameron as he holds an arm out to me. He’s in a smart suit, wearing the tie I gave him a few months back for Father’s Day, his thick blonde hair peppered with sophisticated, silver strands styled just so. But it’s not how handsome he looks that tugs at my heartstrings; it’s the love and concern in his eyes that tell me he’d have no qualms turning us right around and out the opposite door if I answered in the negative, considering how quickly this day was thrown together.
So much adoration and love for this man fills me up.
“Weddings are supposed to be happy events, hen,” he says, wiping away one of my tears with a thumb.
“I am happy,” I tell him. “So, so incredibly happy.” Gods, am I ever.
He hugs me, his strong and warm arms wrapping around me, and once more I thank all the gods that I found this man and his son and that they accepted me as one of their own. That he’s here with me, ready to walk me down the aisle and symbolically give me away so I can marry the literal man of my dreams.
“You deserve all the happiness in the worlds,” he murmurs before pressing a kiss against my temple.
When he asks me again if I’m ready, I tell him I am. There’s no doubt, no worries, no second-guessing. I’m ready. And then I take the arm he offers me, clutching my small bouquet of flowers in my other hand as we head toward my future.
Here are things I hope to never forget:
People I love crowding a tiny room.
How Karl and Will look so bloody handsome in suits.
Cameron smiling down at me with so much love as we approach the altar.
How gorgeous Astrid looks in silver.
Cora’s non-cynical laughter.
Callie’s presence on a day I would not have blamed her from shying away from, and her genuine tears of happiness.
The lace of my simple dress.
How the blue of Jonah’s shirt matches his eyes perfectly.
How it feels like a thousand butterflies clamoring for freedom in my chest when Jonah takes my hand and says, “I will.”
How, when I say it, too, I’ve never felt surer of anything in my entire life.
How his eyes never waver from holding mine, or mine his the entire fifteen minutes it takes us to let go of the past and embrace the future.
The cheers when I kiss Jonah for the first time wearing the same last name as his.
The flowers and sparkling snowflakes that explode all around us because I can’t help myself.
My mother not hiding her own tears of happiness as she hugs me, wishing me well.
Chocolate cake with champagne frosting, baked by my best friend.
The clinking of glasses and all the kisses that follow.
Toast after toast from our friends—some funny, some serious, all heartfelt.
The way my husband sounds like when he tells me he loves me.
And the way my heart nearly explodes from too much bliss when I tell him I love him, too.