The JP looked back and forth between us for a moment, as if waiting to see if we were really going to do this. When neither of us made a run for it, he said, “We have gathered here today for the marriage of Tina Schwartz and Dr. Darion Marks.”
I lifted an eyebrow at the “doctor.” Darion tilted his head in his father’s direction. I nodded in understanding and rolled my eyes. Titles. They were important to the senior Dr. Marks.
The JP cleared his throat. We both snapped to attention. We hadn’t heard a word he had said.
“You are supposed to be repeating after me,” he said.
“Sorry,” Darion said. “I couldn’t take my eyes off my wife.”
The guests tittered.
The JP began again, “I, Darion, take Tina to be my lawfully wedded wife,” he said.
Darion gripped my fingers. When he met my gaze this time, my breath caught with his intensity and emotion. “I, Darion, take Tina to be my lawfully wedded wife.”
“To have and to hold,” the JP said.
“You know,” Darion said, and everyone laughed again. “I think I can handle this part on my own. Is that all right?”
The JP smiled and stepped back. “By all means.”
My heart smashed against my chest. What was he doing?
Darion took a step closer.
“Tina Schwartz, I promise to pay attention to you and to recognize when you need space, or time, or a new canvas, or more cerulean blue oil paint because you’re stealing all of mine.”
I had to smile. It was true. I always ran out of that color first.
“And I’ll give you it,” he said. “And if I can, I’ll see it coming and give it to you before you even know you need it. Because you are something incredible, beyond anything or anyone I’ve ever known. And the work of your hands, because it comes from the understanding in your heart, is going to speak to people. And I want to be the person who helps you get there.”
I felt dumbstruck. He had spoken to my hopes and my fears all in one. He knew what I wanted before I could even form the words myself.
“I will also change diapers,” he said with a huge, beautiful grin.
“Get it in writing,” Jenny said from her chair, elbowing Chance. Everyone burst into laughter.
I let go of him to wipe a tear from the corner of my eye and took his hand again. He looked down at me with earnestness and love.
“And I, Tina Schwartz, take you, Dr. Darion Marks, to be my lawfully wedded husband, and not just because you knocked me up before we could tie the knot.” I waited out the laughs.
“But because you know me better than I know myself. You see in me the things I have not dared to stare in the face. Because you are the best thing to ever happen to me. And because I’ve gone without you and I never want to have to do that again.”
He lifted my knuckles to his lips.
The JP stepped back. “Do we have rings?”
Cynthia jumped forward. “I do!” She dug around in her basket and produced a small silk bag. “In here!”
Darion released me to take the sack from her. He opened it and let the wedding bands fall into his palm. He handed them to the officiant.
“This is the easy part,” the man said. He gave the smaller ring to Darion. “Place this on her finger and say, ‘With this ring, I thee wed.’” He hesitated. “Unless you have more to say.”
Darion’s strong hand lifted mine. He caressed my finger before sliding the band onto it. “With this ring, I thee wed.”
I took the band from the officiant and reached for Darion. His hands were warm. I slid the ring onto his finger. “With this ring, I thee wed,” I said.
“By the power vested in me by the State of California,” the JP said, “I now pronounce you husband and wife. Tina, you may kiss your husband.”
This got another laugh.
Darion held my hand against his heart for a moment, just watching me. I remembered that day we came here and I envisioned the painting of me and Peanut. I’d been obsessed with the need to capture that feeling, the emotion that surged inside me thinking about what it would be like if he were with me. The urge to paint my emotions was strong whenever I was moved to feel something bigger than myself.
Everything that had happened to me since he died, the anger at my parents, the escape from Houston to art school, the one-night stands, the urgency to always move on, had all come from that one day my life had fallen apart.
Albert knew this too. He’d gotten stuck, endlessly painting clowns that made him famous but never let him get past his one terrible heartbreak.
I wouldn’t make the same mistake.
I knew now I would never finish that painting on the cliff. I had a new memory here. This day with Darion. I pressed my hand against my belly. I would not get stuck. I would move forward. I would never forget Peanut. That wasn’t possible. But I wouldn’t let that one tragedy, no matter how great, define me. I was more than that. I had so much more life to live, endless paths to explore.
I got it now. Happily ever after wasn't a destination at all.
It was a journey.