Manly shouts from the rest of my uniformed teammates break out, and it’s complete and utter chaos. The best kind—the Team kind. My brothers. I swoop up my wife and walk down the aisle with little Goose close behind.
The music starts up again, but I’ve already got her outside the church alone. And all mine. I put her and all the layers of her dress down on the steps in front of the church. “Mrs. Hart,” I whisper.
“We are married. Oh my gosh. You are my husband,” Windsor exclaims, rubbing my wedding band. “It was perfect, Maverick.”
I lean down and kiss her. For real this time. With tongue and passion, tilting her head with my hands to get the perfect angle. She moans into my mouth and her small, cold hands come up to cup the sides of my face. I lift her off the ground, pulling her against my body, but keep kissing her.
I hear a female throat clear from behind me. Windsor’s head darts at the noise. It’s Morganna. “The masses will be out here any second and this looks like it’s about to turn into wedding night festivities a little early,” she says, her southern drawl stringing out most of the words.
“Why Morganna. Your country is showing!” Windsor says excitedly with a fake country accent. “We can fornicate on these steps if we deem it appropriate.”
I laugh. God, I love her. She kisses my neck. Then my jaw. I capture her lips with mine.
“He would be happy. You know that right?” Morganna says, smiling.
My stomach knots. “I know he would. He wanted this to happen when I wasn’t sure if I deserved this to happen,” I admit sadly, trying to keep my emotions at bay. I put Windsor down, but keep her close at my side. I touch one of my cuff links and close my eyes.
“Tighten your fucking towel, Mav. You have a reception to put on,” Morganna says before disappearing into the mass of people who swarm around us. I swallow back the memory and focus on the happiness in my heart. The happiness that I get to enjoy because he’s no longer here. His sacrifice indirectly gave me this. Windsor.
Everyone congratulates us with huge smiles. They shake my hand and hug Windsor. I kiss the top of her head, to remind her I’m still here while well-wishers swallow her alive. Everyone tells her how beautiful she looks and what a lucky man I am. They are all generic phrases that people say at weddings.
Except today they aren’t generic at all. I am so fucking lucky, for so many reasons. For this reason, I’m going to live my life like the luckiest son-of-a-bitch alive.
For myself. For him. But mostly for her.
_______________
The reception went by as quick as molasses. I’m sure no one else thought it was that long. I did because the only thing I could think about was how quickly I’d be able to get her out of the wedding dress. I want to make love to my wife. It’s going to take a while to get used to saying that. Or even thinking it. It won’t feel absolutely real until tomorrow after we’ve spent an entire night doing exactly what our vows said: loving and cherishing.
“How tired are you?” I ask when we’re finally alone in the back of the limo. She kicks her feet up into my lap and I take off her high heels, which I know for a fact have been killing her all night. She won’t admit to it though. I love that she thinks I don’t know.
She scoffs. “Tired? Honey, I’m just getting started.” I ask her what her favorite part of the day was and we both agree it was the vows. She admitted she didn’t really hear what the pastor was saying either. I wonder if that means we’re not technically married because neither of us paid attention. The night was awesome, the food was good and all our friends were drunk as skunks when we left. That’s a successful party. Both Gretchen and Steve’s speeches were upbeat and happy, not mentioning anything about any hardships. I was thankful they both gave Win happy memories of the night. I didn’t want anything to taint her day. I even talked her into inviting Nash to the wedding. He declined, thank the deities above. But I think she was proud of herself for extending the invite nonetheless. It’s something she’s able to bury in her past and let