by Zoe Norman
I give him a forced, tight-lipped grin and sip my coffee. I take the remote and turn on the TV, effectively tuning him out.
Clearly frustrated, he moves to stand in front of the large windows and pulls back the sheer shades to look over the city. “Can you believe this weather? It’s going to be a beautiful day for a wedding, don’t you think?” He’s trying to make small talk. Wrong move.
I audibly huff at what he said.
Owen spins around, glaring at me. “What was that noise for? Olivia, what the hell is going on here?”
I take a slow sip of my coffee, not letting my eyes leave the television. “I’m just surprised to hear you say that you think it’s a beautiful day for a wedding. I didn’t think weddings were your thing,” I snap, acid dripping off my tongue.
“What?” He moves over to stand in front of me. “Give me that,” he says angrily, pulling the remote from my hand and turning off the television. “What is this about? Why are you saying that?”
I stand so we’re facing each other, sipping my coffee, trying desperately to remain calm and look unaffected. “Well, I just happened to hear your conversation with Marc last night and you seemed to make it clear that weddings weren’t your thing and that you don’t see being married in your future. So I guess I just deduced that there wouldn’t be such a thing as a beautiful day for a wedding to you.” I can’t help the anger that is seeping in my tone, and—here we go—the tears are coming to the party.
He sits on the bed and presses his palms into his forehead. He looks distraught. “I’m sorry you heard that. I wasn’t thinking straight. And honestly, I don’t know what I want. I never thought about getting married. I tried to do that once and...well, you know how that ended. I’ve sworn off the idea of getting married for so long that it’s just become a part of my mantra. What would be so wrong about not getting married? Isn’t what we have now pretty amazing? I think it’s pretty amazing, and I don’t want to fuck it up.”
When he glances up at me, I’m fighting back tears. He looks heartbroken as he stands and makes a move toward me. I take a step back, not ready for his touch right now.
“Listen, I don’t know how I feel about marriage, but I do know, without a shadow of a doubt, that I love you very much. I know that I don’t want to be without you. I know that you’re it for me. Period. When the guys asked me about it last night, I didn’t have to weigh the pros or cons of being with you. I don’t miss how my life was before I met you. I’ve said it before, Olivia, and I’ll say it again: You are my future. I don’t want a life without you in it.”
I’ve been trying to hold back tears this whole time, but now, I can’t rein them in. They stream down my face as I attempt to control the sobs.
“If you want me in your future, why don’t you want to marry me?” I ask quietly.
Owen presses the heels of his hands into his forehead and drags his palms down his face. His eyes are soft and sad. “Oh, baby, it’s not like that. Marriage isn’t just about the two people involved anymore. It’s about rehearsal dinners, dresses, inviting two hundred people…and…favors! I went through all that and had it thrown in my face. I just want to love you and take care of you and enjoy you without all that stress.”
It occurs to me as he says it that part of me wants all of that—the dress, the flowers, the fucking favors. But more than that, I want a man who loves me the way he is saying he loves me. Because what’s the point of that other stuff if he doesn’t love you that way.
The crying hasn’t stopped, but I take a deep breath in an effort to speak again. “I love you so much, Owen. I’m terrified I’m going to lose you. I’m terrified that, one day, you’re going to wake up and remember what your life was like and decide that’s where you’d rather be. Maybe that’s why marriage is important to me. I’m not saying I want to get married tomorrow. Or next year. But I want to feel like you’d make that commitment to me, that you’d want that.”
He takes a step toward me again, but this time, I let him. I don’t have the energy to fight that physical contact anymore because I think I’ll need what’s left of it for the remainder of this conversation.
“Olivia, marriage is a piece of paper. But know this: If a piece of paper meant the difference between losing you or keeping you, I would have to consider that. I’m just as scared that I’m going to lose you. Don’t you see that?”
He slips his arms around my waist and pulls me to him. My head sags forward against his chest and I cry—a hard, cathartic cry. He strokes my back and kisses the top of my head.
“God, baby, why didn’t you tell me this last night? Why didn’t you say something? I’m so sorry you heard that conversation. I’m so sorry.”
I continue to cry, eventually calming my breathing. I look up at him, my face feeling tear-stained, his masked with fear and sadness. He places a finger under my chin and tilts my head up to look up into his eyes. Leaning forward, he kisses me softly on the lips. I know he’s not trying to make a move on me; he’s just trying to reconnect with me. He runs his thumbs over my cheeks and wipes away my tears.
“Olivia, please. I need to see you smile. I love you so much. Let’s try to enjoy the day. Let’s try to enjoy this time in Seattle. We can talk about all of this again when we get home if you want. I promise you.”
I’m not done with the subject, but I’m exhausted from it. Looking at the clock, I realize that need to get moving if we want to have any chance of getting out to the location where the wedding is being held.
“Okay,” I agree quietly.
He crushes me to his chest again and presses his lips to my temple, whispering, “I love you. I love you. I love you, Olivia. Always.”
He kisses me once more before I turn, walking toward the bathroom to get ready.
ON OUR WAY OUT of the hotel, we drop down a few floors to get my mom since she is riding with us. I lightly knock on the door, and she opens it as if she were waiting by the peephole, anxiously expecting us to arrive.
“Oh, Olivia! You look so beautiful!” Mom cries, covering her mouth in awe.
Olivia is dressed in a beautiful, pale-pink, knee length dress. The front covers her modestly, but the back of the dress… The back is open completely. It’s incredibly sexy without showing a lot, and the color offsets her blue eyes and brown hair so well. She looks like an angel. My angel.
“Yes, she does look stunning, doesn’t she, Mom,” I comment as I gingerly pull Olivia to my side and give her a soft kiss on her temple.
“Thank you for saying that, Mimi. I’ve been looking forward to wearing this dress for weeks now. You look lovely too. Navy is a beautiful color on you,” Olivia replies solemnly.
“All right, ladies. We need to get going. Travis will have my hide if I’m late. I’ve already gotten a handful of texts from him and he’s almost starting to freak out.”
The women laugh as we make our way out of the room and down to the waiting car service.
The drive out to Issaquah is quieter than I would like, no doubt due to Olivia remaining a bit distant. Mom makes small talk about the beautiful scenery and what an exquisite area Seattle is. For once, I’m glad for my mom’s constant chatter, because sitting in silence with Olivia would be unbearable.
Forty-five minutes later, we arrive at the wedding venue. It’s a beautiful rose garden that’s naturally decorated with rows and rows of colorful rose bushes in various stages of opening. In the distance, there is a rustic, wood arbor draped in white, pink, purple, and yellow roses and copious amounts of greenery. White chairs encircle the arbor on all sides, and low-hanging flowers line the main aisle. The weather gods are with Travis and Lucy today because the sky is a bright blue and not a cloud is to be seen. Off to the side is a large, white tent that will host the reception, and on the opposite side of the ceremony site is a quaint house where the wedding party is gathered.
Before meeting up with the other groomsmen, I walk Mom and Olivia over to the reception tent. After they’ve taken a seat to wait until the
wedding starts, I bend to give my mom a kiss on the cheek and then turn my attention to Olivia.
“Are you all right? You’ve been really quiet. I need to know that we’re good. Are we good, Liv?” I ask.
Olivia doesn’t look at me when she quietly says, “Yeah, I’m fine. Wish Travis well for me, okay?”
“Yeah…okay,” I reply, matching her pensive mood. “I’ll do that. I’ll catch you later, baby. I love you.” And with that, I give her a soft kiss on her temple before turning to leave.
Ninety minutes later, I’ve managed to help calm Travis down (thanks to a little help from Jack Daniel’s), get myself dressed, and help Travis with his tie. The groomsmen have taken way too many pictures together prior to the ceremony and not once did I grumble or complain. Again, thank you, Jack Daniel’s.
We have some time before we need to line up for the ceremony, so I take the opportunity to seek out my girl. Despite what she’s saying, I know that Olivia is still upset with me over this whole marriage thing. I peek in the tent and see neither my mom nor Olivia. I walk out the back side of the tent and find Olivia seated on a bench near an ornate water fountain. As I move toward her, I watch Olivia’s posture change from slumped shoulders to more of a straight back. As if she senses me, she turns to look over her shoulder, shading her eyes from the bright sun with her hand.
“So, what do you think of my tux? Pretty spiffy, huh?” I smile, running my palms down the front of my suit jacket.
“I think you look very handsome, Owen. Travis is going to have some competition up on the altar with you.” She pulls on my tux jacket and tilts her head up to look at me. She’s smiling, but it doesn’t reach her eyes.
“Thanks,” I mutter quietly.
This wall between us is killing me. Every time I see her frown, it’s like a punch in the gut knowing that I’m to blame for her melancholy mood.
I bend to sit next to Olivia on the bench and take her hand in mine. “While everyone is busy looking at Lucy, I’ll be looking at you, beautiful,” I say, gently kissing her knuckles. “You’re the only one I see, Olivia.”
Olivia lets out a heavy sigh and rests her head on my shoulder. I see her hand go up to her face—I’m guessing to wipe away a stray tear. I wrap an arm around her shoulders and hold her. I don’t know how long we sit like this, but I need to feel her close to me. I’m almost desperate for it.
“I love you Owen,” she whispers faintly, so much so that I almost didn’t hear it.
“I love you too, Olivia. Nothing will ever change that, and I won’t let anything keep me from being able to spend every day of my life letting you know that,” I whisper into her hairline.
Except getting married, I think to myself.
Olivia starts to straighten and sit up, but I pull her back to my embrace and use two fingers to lift her chin up to look at me.
“I know what you’re thinking. I mean it. I intend to spend every day of my future with you. If there is something I’m not one hundred percent on board with yet that you need to happen, I guess I’m going to have to take a good, hard look at what I need to do to get there. But I swear to you, Olivia, I’m not ever letting you go.”
Olivia nods her head and wipes away another tear.
I lean down and kiss her, softly at first, then I bring my hand up to cup her face and the kiss deepens. I twist to my side and place my hand on her waist. When I pull back fractionally to catch my breath, Olivia blurts out, “I love you. Thank you so much for saying that. I love you so much.”
I smile at her, relief flooding my body in such an intense wave that I almost become lightheaded. “I lo—”
“Fuck, Owen, there you are! Let’s go!” Marc is standing six yards away, looking down at his watch.
Olivia and I stand to turn and look at him. The irritation on my face is evident. In response, Marc looks contrite.
“Oh, hey, Olivia. Sorry about that. You were having a moment, weren’t you?”
I can sense Olivia glancing up at me while I look at Mark, seething with silent irritation.
“Well, we need to get ready. People are showing up and the wedding will begin soon.” After Marc makes his declaration, he walks away.
I turn my attention back to Olivia. Then I take her hand in mine and tenderly place a kiss on her open palm. “As I was saying, I lo—”
“There you are!” my mom calls out as she rounds the corner from the reception tent.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me!” I exclaim with only Olivia being able to hear.
Olivia covers her mouth in a chuckle as my mom continues down the path toward us.
“I got so distracted looking at all the beautiful flowers and talking… Well, I lost track of time and you, Olivia!” Without skipping a beat, my mom comes to my side. “And don’t you look handsome! Don’t I have a hot son, Olivia?”
Oh good Lord, my mom is trying to be cool. It’s not working.
“He’s incredibly handsome. I think I’ll keep him,” Olivia hums with a genuine smile.
I close my eyes and relax my shoulders, relishing the compliment and the meaning behind it. She may have needed to hear my willingness to take all measures to keep her in my life, but I needed to hear that she still wants me to.
“Ahem.” Marc clears his throat, appearing out of nowhere. “I really hate to ruin this moment—again, evidently—but we need to get going, Owen. Travis has the wedding planner pulling her hair out. We need to get this guy married. Now. And Olivia,” he continues, looking her way, “Charley just got here. She’s saving seats for you and Mimi.”
Olivia nods. I pull her into my arms and give her a gentle kiss before whispering into her hair, “I’ll be watching only you. I love you, Liv.”
As the wedding party gathers in the house, readying themselves for the ceremony, I have a moment to observe Travis. I would have put money on the fact that he would have asked me to help talk him off the ledge, but he’s exceptionally cool. There’s no hint of nervousness. No inclination of a second thought. The only thing I see in his eyes is excitement. He’s ready to marry Lucy, and honestly, I’m excited for him. Marriage may not be my thing, but I’m sure as hell not going to strong-arm someone else away from the institution.
After all Travis and I have been through, I’m happy to find us both in a great place. He’s a better man for having met Lucy, and I’m struck with the realization of how much better I am with Olivia in my life.
The music starts and we all stand in line, per the instructions from the harried wedding planner. She comes through with a lint roller one last time, making sure the groomsmen’s tuxes are flawless and the bridesmaids’ flowers are at the proper height.
“You ready to get married, man?!” I exclaim, gripping Travis’s shoulders.
“So ready. I cannot wait to see Lucy and call her my wife. I’m the luckiest man alive,” Travis replies with as much sincerity as I’ve ever seen from him. It’s pretty fucking cool.
The harpist and violinist begin playing and the wedding planner wordlessly motions for Travis to walk down the aisle to seat first Lucy’s family and then his own. The music changes and, suddenly, we’re up. Showtime.
I watch Travis smile at the guests on his way down the aisle and proudly stand at the end, waiting for the rest of the wedding party to join him. Marc and I slowly march the narrow walkway toward Travis and it feels eerily similar to that of a funeral. I’m a little uncomfortable. With a smile plastered on my face, I take my place beside Travis and Mark. My eyes search the sea of guests for Olivia and find her in seconds. She’s looking at me, and as soon as our eyes lock, I give her a wink. Instantly, I relax.
The rest of the wedding party take their turn down the aisle, and finally, the officiate asks all the guests to stand. Lucy has arrived.
The traditional wedding march starts to play and Lucy, accompanied by both her mother and father, walks the final few steps to her groom. The guests all turn back, their eyes riveted, to watch Lucy approach, but I continue to watch Olivi
a. She quickly dabs a tear from the corner of her eye, and I realize how much my words have hurt her. I know she’s happy for Lucy and Travis, but I also know she’s a little sad for herself. As if she knows she is consuming my thoughts, Olivia looks back over her shoulder at me and finds my eyes only on her—just like I said I would do. She smiles softly before I mouth, “I love you,” to her and she mouths it back to me.
The ceremony goes off without a hitch. Marc and I considered playing the ‘who has the rings’ game but thought better of it when it came time to hand them over. Travis and Lucy exchange their vows to love, honor, and cherish each other in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health, and promise to love only each other. While the vows are being recited, I keep my focus on Olivia as if willing her to understand that every word they are saying to each other are words I am silently saying to her. Olivia looks at me on occasion and smiles, and that’s all I need.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” the officiate declares with a booming voice, “I present to you Mr. and Mrs. Travis and Lucy Cunningham.”
The guests erupt with clapping and shouts of congratulations, but of all the things that were said by the officiate today, those last words stick with me. Mr. and Mrs. Travis and Lucy Cunningham. She’s not Lucy Knight anymore. She’s a Cunningham now. She’s Travis’s Lucy. She’s someone Travis can claim. They’re their own family.
For a moment, I feel an indescribable and completely foreign feeling in my chest. I blink back tears that threaten to make themselves known and get me razzed by Marc for the rest of my natural life. I manage to compose myself and make it to the picture area without being found out.
Almost an hour later, I find Olivia, Charley, and my mom in the reception tent, deep in discussion about the appropriateness of Lucy’s mom wearing a black gown to the wedding.
“Excuse me, ladies,” I interrupt. “Olivia? May I borrow you for a moment?” I hold out my hand with a smile.
Without hesitation, Olivia takes my proffered hand and walks with me out of the tent, leaving Charley and Mimi in our wake.
