by Bromberg, K.
His personal vows signify the depth of his love for me—the man who swore he couldn’t love, does whole-heartedly.
“You’ve given me a life I never even knew I wanted, Ry. And for that? I promise to give myself to you—the broken, the bent, and every piece in between—wholeheartedly, without deception, without outside influences. I promise to text you songs to make you hear me when you just won’t listen. I promise to encourage your compassion because that’s what makes you, you. I promise to push you to be spontaneous because breaking rules is what I do best,” he says with a smirk as a lone tear slides down his face. “I promise to play lots and lots of baseball, making sure we touch each base. Home run!” He says the last word softly so only I can hear, and I laugh through my tears.
And I can’t hold back anymore so I reach out and rub my hand over the side of his jaw, not caring one bit about the assumptions people might be making about that vow.
“And that right there … that laugh? I promise to make you laugh like that every single day. And sigh. I like hearing your sighs too.” He winks at me. “I promise nothing will be more valuable in my life than you. That you will never be inconsequential. That those you love, I’ll love too,” he says and then looks over to the row where all of the boys sit. “As I stand here promising to be yours, to give you all of me, I already know that a lifetime will never be long enough to love you. It’s just not possible.” He shrugs, my heart swelling as his voice wavers slightly. “But, baby, I’ve got forever to try, if you’ll have me.”
“Yes!” I choke out as Colton slips my ring on my finger, my body trembling, my heart never more steady, my head completely clear.
“I love you,” he whispers.
My tears fall and I don’t even try to stop them. He looks so conflicted, wanting to draw me in his arms and comfort me. He looks over to our officiate, silently asking for permission to touch me. And it’s so cute that my man, who always disregards rules, is afraid to break them now.
I wipe my eyes with a Kleenex that Haddie hands me and draw in a deep breath to prepare myself for getting through my vows. “Colton, as much as I tried to fight it, I think I’ve been in love with you since I fell out of that storage closet and crashed into your arms. A chance encounter. You saw a spark in me when all I’d felt for so long was grief. You showed me romance when you swore it wasn’t real. You taught me I deserve to feel when all I’d been for so long was numb.” I shake my head and look down at our hands, before looking back up to meet his eyes.
“You showed me scars—inside and out—are beautiful and to own them without fear. You showed me the real you—you let me in—when you always shut others out. You showed me such fortitude and bravery that I had no choice but to love you. And even though you never knew it, you showed me your heart time and time again. Every bent piece of it.” I breathe, my trembling hands holding his.
And the look in his eyes—filled with acceptance, adoration, reverence—is one I will never forget. Tears slide silently down his cheeks, in such stark contrast to the intensity on his face but I see his vulnerability. I feel the love.
“You say I brought light to your darkness, but I disagree. Your light was always there, I just showed you how to let it shine. You’re giving me the life I’ve always wanted. And for that? I promise to give myself to you—the defiance, the selflessness, the whole damn alphabet—wholeheartedly, without deception, without outside influences.”
And I can’t help it, even though I know it’s against the rules, I lean forward and press a soft kiss to his lips, and when I lean back, the look in his eyes and the lopsided smile on his face is one I’ll remember for the rest of our lives.
“Rule breaker,” he teases with a raise of his eyebrow as I prepare to finish my vows.
“I learned from the best.” I shake my head and look back at him with clarity. “I promise to encourage your free spirit and rule breaking ways because that’s what makes you, you. I promise to challenge you and push you so we can continue to grow into better versions of ourselves. I promise to be patient and hold your hand when you want it held the least, because that’s what I do best. I promise to text you songs too so we can keep the lines of communication open between us. And I promise to wear dresses with zippers up the back,” I throw in on a whim, prompting Colton to look over at Haddie who is laughing behind me. He shakes his head, before focusing back on me.
“I promise a lifetime of laughter, ice cream breakfasts and pancake dinners. And as much as I love waving that checkered flag? Batter-up, baby.” My smile matches his as my love for him swells and soars to new heights. “I promise that nothing will be more valuable in my life than you—because everything else is inconsequential—and you, Colton, are most definitely not. I remember sitting in a Starbucks watching you and wondering what it would be like to get the chance to love you, and now I get a lifetime to find out. And I still don’t think that will be enough time.” I take his ring from Haddie, the band etched with a checkered design, and slip it on his finger.
Becks starts mocking and all the guests laugh. As much as I want to throttle him, I never could. This is my life now and he’s a part of it.
“You’re next, fucker,” Colton mutters to him under his breath, causing him to choke more and me to laugh louder. It takes a minute for the laughter to abate and for everyone to settle down so that the focus is back on us.
“Colton, we’ve got forever to try, if you’ll have me?”
“You know this is permanent, right?” he says softly, reminding me of the symbol forever marking my hip. I nod my head subtly as he looks at me, head angled, eyes dancing, lips smiling, and says, “I wouldn’t have you any other way.” He looks down at his hand, the new band on his ring finger and shakes his head for a moment as he accepts what’s just happened. The look on his face is priceless. And with impatience rivaling that of one of my boys, his eyes dart over to the officiate.
“Yes, Colton.” she chuckles, knowing exactly what he wants. “You may kiss your bride!”
Wonderment and love flow through me.
“Thank Christ!” He exhales as he steps into me and frames my face with his hands. “This is one checkered flag I’m forever claiming.”
And then his lips are on mine, our connection irrefutable, as I hear the officiate announce, “Friends and family, may I present to you Mr. and Mrs. Colton Donavan.”
I LOOK AT MYSELF IN the mirror, my thoughts a jumble of shit but my pulse steady, body calm. I shake my head.
Life is such a mindfuck sometimes.
The man I see looking back at me is not the same one I would have found a year or even six months ago.
It’s like each fucking day with her makes me a better person. A better man. Erases some of the demons bit by bit, moment by moment.
I splash some water on my face, the disbelief still riding high that I’m about to get fucking married. Me? Colton fucking Donavan. The self-proclaimed bachelor for life. The man who thought no pussy is good enough to want for a lifetime.
Fuck! I laugh into the empty bathroom. Talk about underestimating the power of voodoo.
How naïve I was. Always needing to mask the pain and hide the scars on my soul by burying myself in the next willing piece of ass. Never—never—did I think this day would come. That I’d wake up wanting a woman in bed with me and not just beneath me.
Fucking Rylee.
The woman knocked me on my ass like a three hundred pound linebacker. Talk about blindsiding my way of fucking life filled with tits, ass, Jack and Jim, and thinking only about myself.
Because now all I can think about is her.
Even now.
Right fucking now I should be hung over, puking my guts out with nerves over the ball and chain about to get shackled to my ankle. But fuck if I feel any of that. All I want is to see her. Kiss her. Make her mine in every way.
Ride off into the proverbial motherfucking sunset.
And all of this because I got schooled by Becks into understanding why the alphab
et is so damn important. A to fucking Z of it.
“Dude, you gonna finish getting ready or what?”
Becks’s voice startles me. I glance down to my phone where Ry’s last text is on the screen still—I’ll be the one in white—to check the time and realize shit’s about to get real.
“Hold your horses, Daniels.” I lift my chin in acknowledgement to him through my reflection as I bring the tumbler of aged Macallan he bought for the occasion to my lips. “I’m just zipping up now.”
“Don’t pinch your dick. You just might need that tonight since she’s been holding out on you.” He chuckles as he pours himself a glass.
“No shit.” I tuck my shirt in, my mind wandering to just what’s going to be beneath her dress besides my voodoo pussy. Because fuck if it’s not torture to sleep beside the woman you want more than the air you breathe when she won’t let you touch her. “A month is a long fucking time, dude.” I groan the words out, my dick already stirring for the action it’s been missing.
He throws his head back and laughs at me. “For you that’s like a lifetime.”
“Fuck off.” He just raises his eyebrows at me, then I can’t help but laugh. “It’s been brutal.”
“Poor baby. You’ll get no sympathy from me. Welcome to how the other half lives, where snapping your fingers doesn’t result in any woman you want dropping to her knees.”
I laugh. “Not anymore, brother. Not anymore.” I’m on the please remain standing program now. I glance up from where I’m trying to put my checkered flag cuff links through the holes to meet his eyes.
“You really ready to do this?” He quirks his eyebrows up at me, like he’s waiting for the about face. For me to freak the hell out because I’m about to get hitched.
He’s fucking crazy if he thinks I’m walking away from Rylee. Not now. Not ever. That checkered flag’s only ever going to wave for me.
“I should be nervous right? Pacing and shit. But I’m not. Fucking scary but true … it’s Rylee,” I tell him with a shrug as if that it explains it all. The thought unnerving even to me.
But fuck if I’ve been able to make sense of the truths she’s allowed me to face, the man she’s given me the room to become.
“It is indeed Rylee, and shit, man, I don’t know what she sees in you,” he teases, “but, she looks incredible.”
What? “You’ve seen her?” So not fucking fair. So many things I want to ask him about her, but I keep my balls and retain my dignity. I’ll see for myself soon enough if she’s nervous or smiling or crying.
Being beautiful is a given.
“Had to talk to her, let her understand the big ass mistake she’s about to make … give her a chance to ride off in the sunset with the more handsome of the two of us.”
I snort out a laugh as I walk toward him. “Yep. We will be doing that in about six hours. Thanks for showing her the lesser so she knows she’s getting the more.”
“Cocky as fuck and you still end up with the girl.”
“Always.” I sit down on the edge of the chair across from him and flash him an arrogant-ass grin. And fuck if I know where it comes from but all of a sudden there are so many things I need to say to him and not enough words to say them with. We may fuck with each other, ride each other’s asses when we can’t see what’s right in front of us, but I know the shove he gave me knocking my dick in the dirt is part of the reason I got my shit together. Is why I’m sitting here right now, about to marry the girl I sure as shit don’t deserve.
Well him and the defiant as fuck woman who grabbed me by the balls and said non-negotiable.
“Hey, Becks?”
“What do you need?”
And that right there gets me. His unwavering friendship.
I look down for a moment and take a sip of the Macallan. “That’s good shit. Thanks,” I say, stalling.
“A rarity for a one-of-a-kind type of day.”
Years of friendship come down to right now. Two young kids, now men, and the one that was fucked-up just might finally have it together. How the hell do I tell him that? Thanks for putting up with my bullshit and being my punching bag and wingman all at once?
“Thanks, man. For everything.” It’s all I’ve got, but I think he knows what I’m saying because he meets my eyes for a moment, a slight smirk on his face, and nods his head in acknowledgement.
“Always.” He sips his drink and then leans forward and taps it against mine. “And just remember to always end a fight with these two words: yes dear. Biting your tongue at the end of a fight will up the ante of her using hers later to make-up.”
I laugh with him and his fucked-up logic that makes perfect sense before tossing back the rest of my drink.
“You ready, Son?” My dad’s voice from the door interrupts us.
I sigh and fuck if I can’t stop the smile that’s on my face. “Yep, just putting my tie on,” I say, rising to get it. I meet my dad’s eyes and we had our father-son moment earlier but I still can’t get over that look he gives me.
The pride mixed with attaboy. The look the fucked-up little boy I was would have killed to have as much as something to eat and yet here I am, twenty something years later, and it means more now than I ever thought it could.
Sweet Jesus. When people say weddings make you sappy, they weren’t fucking kidding. But fuck anyone who tells me I don’t deserve this. I’ve been to Hell and back, survived the darkest shit imaginable and I’m standing here with my old man and my best friend about to marry the woman who took the pieces the poison hadn’t eaten through and made me whole again.
I think I need another drink.
Let’s get this waiting shit over.
I’m restless. Antsy as fuck. I mean, I’m close to all of the people here but they seriously need to stop chatting and sit the hell down so I can see her.
“Cool your jets. You’ve waited this long, I don’t think another couple of minutes will kill you.”
Her voice startles me but I keep my eyes focused on all of the guests. “Easy for you to say,” I tell my sister, knowing it’s no use to bullshit her that the nerves are starting to kick in.
“Well it’s about time,” she says sarcastically, her hand dusting something off the shoulder of my jacket.
I glance over at her. “Exactly my point. It’s about time for it to start.”
“That’s not what I meant.” She snorts in amusement. “I meant it’s about time you’re finally acting normal about this. That your nerves are showing. You were freaking me out with the Mr. Cool-Calm-and-Collected routine. I wanted to ask who stole my brother.”
I roll my eyes at her, my patience wearing out but for all the right reasons. When I meet her gaze I see the tears there, accept the love in them. I just sigh and shake my head, an unsteady grin on my face. “I’m getting married, Q.”
A tear leaks over and she runs her hands up and down my lapels. “I know. It’s surprising as hell but you deserve it. All of the happiness and love she brings you.” She steps up on her toes and kisses my cheek. “Just treat her like you treated me, minus the nuggies and wedgies,” she says with a wink, emotion breaking her voice, “and you’ll be just fine.”
I pull her into me and kiss the side of her cheek. She bats me away so I don’t mess up her makeup or hair. “Thanks.”
She just nods her head at me before shaking it. “I won’t believe it until I see a ring on your finger.” She laughs. “I guess now would be a good time to tell her parents that our family has a no return policy on you.”
“Quinlan,” I warn her, but the smile on my face gives away that I don’t care if she tells them that or not because they won’t need to return me. I’m in this for the long haul.
She’s called from my mother upstairs and she kisses my cheek one last time before running up the steps.
Time passes slower than the pace car around the track. I’m amped up, ready to get the show on the road, and a new Mrs. Donavan into bed when all is said and done. The officiate leads me outsi
de. I stand there and make eye contact with my mom who has been a wreck all day since we had breakfast until now.
The music starts. Some classical shit that I’m sure I’ll never remember but at the same time will know every time I hear it what it means. Where I was. What she looked like.
Tanner and Quinlan walk down. Then Becks and Haddie. I don’t even see them. I’m rocking on my heels. Clasping my hands in front of me. Telling myself to breathe.
Fuck. I’m really doing this. Really want to do this.
The wedding march starts. At least I know this song. Kind of hard to miss.
But when the music starts, I feel like the bottom drops out.
All of my insecurities, fears, worries begin to overtake me. I strain to find Rylee around the curve of the guests. I want to yell at them to sit the hell down so I can see her because I’m fucking suffocating and she’s my air. My next breath.
My fucking everything.
And then life zooms in 3D fashion when I catch the first glimpse of her.
The blur around me stops.
All I see is white. Can’t tell you a goddamn thing about the dress except for the color because all I’m focused on is her face.
Look up.
Look at me, Ryles.
I want to shout the words to her. Let her know I’m here, waiting. But then realize she can take all the time in the fucking world because I’m not going anywhere.
Yep. This man who loved to run is firmly rooted in place. Fuckin’A.
I can’t hear my mom sobbing, can’t feel the breeze of the ocean, can’t hear the music anymore because Rylee looks up.
And I’m lost. Staggered. Found. Saved.
To her. To the moment. For the rest of my life.
My saint. The words run through my head as I lock eyes with her. Every demon left within leaves with the exhale of my breath I didn’t realize I was holding.
Her smile is unwavering and eyes fill with tears as she walks so calmly toward me. And thank fuck for that. Thank God she never listened when I warned her off of me. Because it may have been a great view of her ass walking away, but that means I’d never have the chance to see this—accept this—know this feeling. The one that she’s walking toward me, no secrets hidden, all slates wiped clean, and a future to build together.