A Beautiful Wedding (Beautiful, #2.5)(16)

“What did she say?” he asked.

My throat tightened so a sob wouldn’t escape. I kissed him on the cheek. “That’s from her.”

“Yeah?” he said, a sweet smile sweeping his face.

“And she pretty much nailed everything wonderful about you, even though she didn’t get to watch you grow up. She’s so wonderful, Travis. I wish I could have known her.”

“I wish she could have known you.” He paused a moment in thought, and then held up his hands.

His sleeve inched back, revealing his PIGEON tattoo. “Let’s sleep on it. You don’t have to decide right now. We’ll go back to the hotel, think about it, and—” He sighed, letting his arms and shoulders fall. “I know. This is crazy. I just wanted it so bad, Abby. This crazy is my sanity. We can . . .”

I couldn’t stand watching him stumble and struggle any longer. “Baby, stop,” I said, touching his mouth with three of my fingertips. “Just stop.”

He watched me. Waiting.

“Just so we’re straight, I’m not leaving here until you’re my husband.”

At first his brows pulled in, dubious, and then he offered a cautious smile. “You’re sure?”

“Where’s my bouquet?”

“Oh!” Chantilly said, distracted by the discussion. “Here, honey.” She handed me a perfectly round ball of red roses.

Elvis offered his arm, and I took it. “See you at the altar, Travis,” he said.

Travis took my hand, kissed my fingers, and then jogged back the way he’d come, followed by a giggly Chantilly.

That small touch wasn’t enough. Suddenly I couldn’t wait to get to him, and my feet quickly made their way to the chapel. The wedding march wasn’t playing, instead “Thing for You,” the song we danced to at my birthday party, came through the speakers.

I stopped and looked at Travis, finally getting a chance to take in his gray suit and black Converse sneakers. He smiled when he saw the recognition in my eyes. I took another step, and then another. The officiant gestured for me to slow down, but I couldn’t. My entire body needed to be next to Travis more than it ever had been before. He must have felt the same way. Elvis hadn’t made it halfway before Travis decided to stop waiting and walked toward us. I took his arm.

“Uh . . . I was gonna give ’er away.”

Travis’s mouth pulled to one side. “She was already mine.”

I hugged his arm, and we walked the rest of the way together. The music quieted, and the officiant nodded to both of us.

“Travis . . . Abby.”

Chantilly took my rose bouquet, and then stood to the side.

Our trembling hands were knotted together. We were both so nervous and happy that it was almost impossible to stand still.

Even knowing how much I truly wanted to marry Travis, my hands were trembling. I’m not sure what the officiant said exactly. I can’t remember his face or what he wore, I can only recall his deep nasally voice, his northeastern accent, and Travis’s hands holding mine.

“Look at me, Pidge,” Travis said quietly.

I glanced up at my future husband, getting lost in the sincerity and adoration in his eyes. No one, not even America, had ever looked at me with that much love. The corners of Travis’s mouth turned up, so I must have had the same expression.

As the officiant spoke, Travis’s eyes poured over me, my face, my hair, my dress—he even looked down at my shoes. Then, he leaned over until his lips were just a few inches from my neck, and inhaled.

The officiant paused.

“I wanna remember everything,” Travis said.

The officiant smiled, nodded, and continued.

A flash went off, startling us. Travis glanced behind him, acknowledged the photographer, and then looked at me. We mirrored each other’s cheesy grins. I didn’t care that we must have looked absolutely ridiculous. It was like we were getting ready to jump off the highest high dive into the deepest river that fed into the most magnificent, terrifying waterfall, right onto the best and most fantastic roller coaster in the universe. Times ten.

“True marriage begins well before the wedding day,” the officiant began. “And the efforts of marriage continue well beyond the ceremony’s end. A brief moment in time and the stroke of the pen are all that is needed to create the legal bond of marriage, but it takes a lifetime of love, commitment, forgiveness, and compromise to make marriage durable and everlasting. I think, Travis and Abby, you’ve just shown us what your love is capable of in a tense moment. Your yesterdays were the path that led you to this chapel, and your journey to a future of togetherness becomes a little clearer with each new day.”

Travis leaned his cheek to my temple. I was grateful he wanted to touch me where and whenever he could. If I could have hugged him to me and not disrupted the ceremony, I would have. The officiant’s words began to blur together. A few times, Travis spoke, and I did, too. I slipped Travis’s black ring onto his finger, and he beamed.

“With this ring, I thee wed,” I said, repeating after the officiant.

“Nice choice,” Travis said, admiring his ring.

When it was Travis’s turn, he seemed to have trouble, and then slid two rings onto my finger: my engagement ring, and a simple, gold band.

I wanted to take a moment to appreciate that he’d gotten me an official wedding band, maybe even say so, but I was having an out-of-body experience. The harder I tried to be present, the faster everything seemed to happen.