Point of Retreat(89)

I take a deep breath, not really understanding why I'm so jittery. I'm sort of glad it's so informal. I couldn't imagine how shot my nerves would be if we had more of an audience. My hands won't stop sweating, so I wipe them on my jeans. She insisted I wear jeans, said she didn’t want to see me in a tux. I’m not sure what dress she picked out for today, but she didn’t want to wear a wedding dress. She didn’t see the point in buying one if she was only wearing it once.

We aren’t doing the traditional aisle walk, either. In fact, nothing about this is traditional. I’m pretty sure her and Eddie are down the hall in the courthouse public restroom doing her makeup right now. It all seems so surreal…marrying the love of your life in the same building where you can register a car. But honestly, it wouldn’t matter where we got married…I'd be just as excited…and just as nervous.

When the doors open, there isn’t any music. No flower girls or ring bearers. Just Eddie. She walks in and takes a seat in one of the chairs next to Kel. The Judge walks in right after Eddie sits down and hands me another form to sign.

“You forgot to date this,” he says.

He gives me a pen so I take the form and press it down on the podium in front of me and date it. March 2nd, 2012. That’s our day. Mine and Lake’s day. I hand the paper back to him and the door to the courtroom opens again. When I turn around, Lake’s walking in, smiling. As soon as I lay eyes on her, a wave of relief washes over me. I'm immediately calm. She has that effect on me.

She looks beautiful. She’s wearing blue jeans too. I laugh when I notice the shirt she has on. She’s wearing that damn ugly shirt I love to hate. If I could have hand-picked myself what she would wear on our wedding day, it would be exactly this.

When she walks up to me, I wrap my arms around her, pick her up and spin her around. When I plant her feet back on the floor, she whispers in my ear.

“Two more hours.”



She isn’t referring to the marriage, she’s referring to the honeymoon. I grab her face and kiss her. Everyone else in the room fades into the distance as we kiss…but only for a second.

“Eh-hem.” I look up and the officiant is standing in front of us with an unamused look on his face. “We haven’t quite gotten to the kissing of the bride yet,” he says.

I laugh and take Lake’s hand as we position ourselves in front of him. When he begins reading his wedding sermon, Lake touches her hand to my cheek and pulls my gaze toward hers, away from the officiant. I turn toward her and take her hands in mine and pull them up between us. I’m pretty sure the officiant is still talking, and that I should probably be paying attention, but I can’t think of anything else right now I'd rather be paying attention to. She smiles at me, and I can see she isn’t paying attention to anything around us, either. It’s just me and her right now. I know it isn’t time yet, but I go ahead and kiss her anyway. I don’t hear a single word of the wedding sermon as we continue to kiss. In less than a minute, this woman is about to become my wife. My life.

Lake laughs and says, “I do” without pulling away from my mouth. I didn’t even realize we had gotten to that part yet. She closes her eyes again and gets right back into rhythm with me. I know weddings are pretty important to some people, but I have to fight back the urge to pick her up and carry her out of here before it’s even over. After a few more seconds, she starts giggling again and says, “He does.”



When I realize she just said my line, my lips separate from hers and I look over at the officiant. “She’s right, I do.” I turn back to her and resume where we left off.

“Well, then, congratulations. I now pronounce you Husband and Wife. You may continue kissing your bride.”



And so I do.

***



“After you, Mrs. Cooper,” I say as we exit the elevator.

She smiles. “I like that. It has a nice ring to it.”



“I’m glad you think so because it’s a little late to change your mind now.”



When the elevator doors close behind us, I pull the room key out of my pocket and check the room number again. “It’s this way,” I say, pointing to the right. I take her hand in mine and begin walking down the hallway. I’m forced to an abrupt stop, however, when her hand jerks me back.

“Wait,” she says. “You’re supposed to carry me over the threshold. That’s what husbands do.”