Mine Would Be You (105)
My husband.
• • •
“Presenting Mr. and Mrs. Ross!” Uncle Mike says through the microphone he felt he needed to buy as we walk down the stairs hand in hand onto the makeshift dance floor created over the sand.
Jackson holds my hand tightly in his as we descend. Everyone claps and Harper shouts in excitement from the side, I look over to see her and Roman holding hands with big smiles and Sloan and her boyfriend cheering loudly. Everyone is smiling and cheering, but no one is happier than I am as I look at Jackson.
His cheeks are flushed with excitement and his eyes flicker over to me. He squeezes my hand under the warm early summer sun as we make our way to the center of the dance floor for our first dance.
As Jackson pulls me to him, I’m taken back to the first time we danced at a very different wedding when I was in a very different place in life. A little nervous and a little hesitant on love, even though he seemed so sure of himself, even then. His arm wraps around my waist now, and I feel his fingertips spread out on my lower back as his other hand holds mine.
The soft music comes through the speakers, filling the outdoor space along with the sound of waves crashing in the background as Jackson pulls us into a dance.
He looks down at me. “So, are you happy? With the wedding, with everything?”
We spin, and I raise my brows. “It’s perfect. We could’ve gotten married anywhere, with just us, and I would’ve been happy.”
I’m thrilled with how we planned the wedding. It’s small and personal and at my favorite place in the world, the Hamptons house, and it’s Jackson. So, it’s perfect. But I would’ve been happy to marry that man anywhere.
Jackson pulls us closer, his fingers tapping on my spine. “You look beautiful.” He shakes his head with a soft smile barely pulling his lips up. But it’s warm, and it makes butterflies erupt in my stomach, even after all this time.
I hug him tighter. “You look pretty great yourself, husband.”
He spins us, the song filling my heart with the lyrics and the melody, and it’s exactly how Jackson makes me feel. He does his signature spin, pulling my back into his chest as he leans down, his lips brushing my cheek ever so softly.
“Wife, wow.” He presses his lips harder to my cheek and it sends a shiver down my spine. “I’m never gonna get tired of saying that,” he whispers before spinning us back and pulling us back together.
I grin, the dress spinning around my legs as we fall back into step and I squeeze his hand. “You don’t have to, because I’ll never get tired of hearing it.”
Both dimples poke through as the sun shines down on us and surrounds us. “You’re my wife. This is the best day, can we do it again?” He leans down, and I laugh, the sound filling my chest and his proximity filling my heart with an overflow of emotions.
“We can do anything you want; we’re married.”
I don’t think we’re dancing as much as we are swaying at this point, but I don’t care. It’s about us and it’s our day and our moment and I wouldn’t have wanted it any other way.
“That we are, baby, that we are.” Jackson’s hand finds my rings again, and he spins them around and around like he’s memorizing the way they rest on my hand. “I love you, Valentina Ross.”
My nose crinkles when I smile wider if that’s possible. “And I love you.”
He pats my butt quickly, and I rest my head on his chest as the song starts to come to an end. This is just the beginning. My heart is full, and I feel at peace, wrapped up in Jackson as we sway back and forth to the song and enter this new chapter together. He’s my rock and my best friend and my person. And the best person I’ve ever met and ever had the honor of loving.
Obviously, marriage doesn’t change everything about life, it’s not a restart or a re-do, but it is a new beginning in a way. Today feels like the first day of the rest of my life—the life that I get to spend with Jackson Ross.
Forever.
For an extended epilogue…click here!
Golden Hour of You and Me
– An unedited sneak peek of my next standalone –
One | Sheyanne
There isn’t a place on earth I despise more than Flagstaff, Arizona.
Except maybe this shitty gas station, which is taking forever and a day to fill up the old bronco I watch from a few feet away, blowing small puffs of cigarette smoke into the dusty, dry, Arizona air that’s suffocating me with every breath.
The nicotine stinks and smells as shitty as it used too, but the small gas station offered no other one of my usual crutches, so for the first time in years, I bought fucking cigarettes.
Sue me.
As the stick of nicotine gets smaller and smaller in my hand, I finally toss it into the dirt and stomp it out. Grinding it more than needed into the ground, like a little fuck you to Arizona. As I make my way to the bronco, my phone buzzes in the back pocket of my jeans and I lean against my car, which still isn’t filled up, as I pull it out to see Shane’s name flashing on the screen.
I don’t even have time to get a snarky word out before his voice fills my ears.
“You’re two hours late Sheyanne,” He grounds out and I can just picture him pacing back and forth around the living room that I’m sure looks exactly the same.