by Jean Oram
Amy sighed, gazing at her reflection in the tall mirror propped against a wall of the tent. Moe. Sweet Moe knew all her hopes and dreams, and was now setting his own life aside in order to help her achieve them. He deserved so much more. He was a completely lovable, total catch of a man that any woman would be lucky to have.
And right now he was outside the little tent, waiting for her at the edge of Blueberry Lake so they could commit themselves to each other for the rest of their lives. She could envision him in his charcoal suit, his tie matching the ribbons in her bouquet because that’s what she’d wanted—a real wedding. He was ready to say “I do.” Ready to help her find that settled, confident place inside her that nobody could take away. She was going to marry a man who didn’t love her as anything more than a friend, but he at least understood who she was and didn’t demand that she change.
After her thirtieth birthday, they’d moved fast, from fulfilling the pledge to buying a house to having a wedding, but Moe would have backed out if he didn’t want this. He wouldn’t have bought a suit and cut his well-known and beloved shaggy locks. He’d said yes to the pledge because he wanted kids, too, and had proved himself to be as hilariously hopeless at love as she was. They were a good fit.
“Are you ready?” Amy’s mother asked as she entered the tent. Faith Carrick came to a halt, her eyes filling with tears, her shoulders rounding as though the sudden emotional hit of seeing her daughter dressed as a bride was too much to bear. “Your father and I have waited for this day for so long. If only your sister…” Her mother tipped her head up and sniffed, shaking off the emotion.
Amy steeled herself against the comment that was sure to come, a comparison to her late sister, Jillian. The daughter who’d been taken too young, and who surely would have lived her life the right way. Sticking with one career that changed lives, instead of going back to waitressing at the pub once again. Settling down with Mr. Perfect. Marrying for love… The list went on.
Her mother made her way across the grassy floor of the tent, hands outstretched to no doubt try and strap the ditched corsage over the rose tattoo on Amy’s wrist. Amy’s gaze cut to the small table at her side, wishing she had disposed of the corsage earlier. She already had her favorite flower on her wrist—embedded into her skin with red ink.
“You and Rodney will be so happy together.” Faith plucked the corsage from its plastic case and held it up, poised and ready.
Amy sighed and slid her hand through the stretched band of elastic. “Nobody calls him Rodney.” He’d always gone by his nickname, Moe, which stood for Middle of Everything. Nobody except her mom and medical personnel ever used “Rodney.”
“There, isn’t that better?” Faith asked, admiring the flowers strapped to Amy’s wrist.
“I don’t like it.” She quietly slid the band off as her mother moved behind her to fuss with her hair, which she’d left down.
Faith didn’t meet her eyes in the mirror as she said, “Don’t be afraid of what this could truly be.”
“Mom, it’s not that kind of marriage.”
“He’s a good man.”
“I know.”
Her mom continued to fuss, her cool fingers subtly adjusting the straps of Amy’s long, fitted, eyelet sundress. She kept opening her mouth as though she wanted to say something.
“All good marriages are based on friendship,” she finally murmured.
Amy relaxed. That was as close to approval as she’d get from her mother.
“I just wish…”
And there it was.
“It’s my life, Mom.”
“You keep telling me that.” There was a sharpness to her mother’s voice. “You also keep changing your mind about what you want in it, too.” Her tone shifted. “And because I love you, it causes me to worry that you’re too impatient, and that you will lose out on the good things that take time.”
Amy turned to face her. “I keep changing my mind because everyone keeps telling me what I want, and sometimes I just want my own thing. I want something different.”
“Like your tattoo?”
Amy instinctively clasped a hand over her forearm to cover the object of so many fights. “I like the tattoo.”
“Good.”
“What, Mom?”
“I’m glad.” She gave a small, quick shrug.
“Just say it.”
“Marriage isn’t like nursing,” she said in a burst. “You can’t just spend all this money on it and then discard it when you get bored.”
Amy blinked. Faith had never spoken up about all of her career changes. Ever. Not even after paying for her nursing degree and then the upgrade.
“I’m sorry,” Faith said. “I love you. I only want what’s best for you.”
“If it’s about money, I’ll repay you for the wedding.”
She knew her mother would say no. When Amy had said she was paying for it all, her parents had gone on about wedding traditions, and had insisted they cover the cost as the parents of the bride. She’d managed to hold out until they’d gotten teary-eyed and brought out the big guns—dancing around the fact that there’d never be a wedding day for Jillian—and how they just wanted to be involved in Amy’s special day. Of course she’d caved. And once she had they’d had their list of stipulations such as the itchy wrist corsage.
Her mother inhaled slowly, then smiled serenely on the exhale, no doubt trying to lull Amy into a false sense of security so she’d think she was done with the topic. But Amy knew that when she was feeling the least prepared, there would be an ambush. Probably some critical comment about marriage and love, and why on earth couldn’t she just figure it out and fall in love with Moe already?
Her mother placed her hands on Amy’s cheeks. “Okay,” she said.
“Okay?” Amy’s stomach clenched. Where was all of that insistence on wedding tradition now that she needed it? Amy had just bought a house with Moe that they’d yet to move into. She didn’t have money for a wedding. Even one this small.
“Maybe it’s time you stood on your own two feet and faced the consequences of your decisions.”
“This isn’t a mistake.” Moe wouldn’t have agreed if it was—not even for her. She trusted him.
“I didn’t say it was.”
This was a good thing. It had to be.
Amy met her own gaze in the mirror before quickly looking away.
Moe’s breath caught as Amy walked through the wild grasses growing along the shore of the crystalline mountain lake, the breeze messing with her brown, wavy hair. He hadn’t seen her dress beforehand, and for some reason he hadn’t expected something so delicately feminine from a woman who tended to balk at conformity as well as tradition. He noted the way the fabric hugged her curves, highlighting her strength as well as her whimsy. It was perfect.
She returned his smile with what looked like relief, and when she reached him at the water’s edge, took his offered hand, giving it a squeeze.
Mary Alice Bernfield, a local who was certified to perform wedding ceremonies, began speaking.
Amy’s chest expanded as she pulled in a breath, her eyelids fluttering. Moe couldn’t recall his friend ever looking so nervous. Her hand was damp and something was off—even more so than when she’d told her parents that she was leaving nursing for good. They hadn’t exactly been thrilled that she was going to “throw it all away” and work in the pub with Moe once again.
Personally, he’d been thrilled at the announcement, having missed working alongside her. And she’d seemed more confident than ever, even though she’d have to face the firing squad.
But today? She looked uncertain.
“Hey,” he murmured. “You okay?”
She gave a quick nod, looking away as though distracted by the birds circling above the lake.
Nope. She definitely wasn’t all right.
Did she need him to call this off and send everyone home?
He gave a light tug on her hand and she returned her gaze to him. He lifted his e
yebrows.
“Are you—” Amy broke off, not finishing her whispered question when Mary Alice paused in her speech.
“Do you need me to stop?” the woman asked.
Amy leaned forward, murmuring quickly in Moe’s ear, “Are you sure you’re okay with this?”
His head snapped back in surprise. He searched her eyes for clues. “Yes.”
There was nobody else in his life he’d rather do this with. It was easy and fun being with Amy, and they’d create a great family together even if they weren’t in love. They had more than most couples had. History, respect, friendship and trust. There wouldn’t be endless nights of fighting where their kids hid under their pillows, in an attempt to block out the sound.
The definitiveness of his answer must have silenced her doubts, because after a long moment of simply watching him, Amy gave a nod. She turned to Mary Alice, giving her a nod, as well.
“Okay then…” Mary Alice said, before launching in once again, her voice loud and clear.
Moe kept his gaze on Amy, watching for signs that she wanted out and was simply afraid to say so. If worse came to worst, they could get an annulment in the morning and break their pledge.
Amy quirked her head at him, looking thoughtful.
“What?” he mouthed.
She stuck out her tongue, making him chuckle in surprise.
Amy was going to be all right. He could relax. She had simply been looking out for him, like the good friend she was.
She was warm and kind, with a refreshing unpredictability. He didn’t have it in him to let go and change his life on a dime the way she did, discarding careers she’d worked hard to get into if they got in the way of following her heart. It was a trait he admired and one he hoped would be passed down to their kids.
Kids.
Man, they were going to be amazing parents. They were fantastic lifelong friends, who could laugh off spilled beer and always hated the same movies. They didn’t argue and they would make some pretty darn cute kids, with Amy’s wavy brown hair and his own dark eyes. They were the best kind of partners and, quite simply, this marriage was going to rock.
“Did you have vows prepared?” Mary Alice asked.
“Oh, right.” Moe probably should have been listening and not staring at Amy’s long lashes while he ran through contingency plans and visions of the future.
He reached into his suit pocket, pulling out the two short paragraphs he’d prepared as a way to keep the ceremony’s focus on their friendship rather than the typical stuff about devotion and undying love.
“Do I go first?” he asked, brushing a hand through his foreign, short hair.
Mary Alice nodded. She was being uncharacteristically quiet, and he wondered what the die-hard gossip was thinking.
He cleared his throat, looking up to make eye contact with Amy. Her dark mascara made her amber eyes seem even larger.
“Amy, you are my best friend.”
That sounded really lame.
He studied her for a long moment. She was gorgeous, funny and as sharp as a tack, and his written words failed to express that. He folded the paper in half, noting that her doubts seemed to rise, the longer he took to find the right words for the moment.
“Amy, all I want is for you to be happy.”
There. Her shoulders had gone down a notch.
He continued, “When you feel lost, just look to me and I will be your compass.”
Well, that was a bit cheesy and cliché, but it seemed to be working. Her eyes were smiling now. Probably due to the high cheese factor present in his words. Later, she’d undoubtedly make a crack about how he was the proud owner of a cheese factory, and that he’d made her lactose intolerance act up thanks to the high levels of dairy in his little speech.
He held back his own mirth and added, “When you feel unsettled and awash with rogue waves, look to me and I will be your anchor, your calm seas. When you want to fly, look to me and I will be the air that lifts your wings.” His amusement faded as his words, corny as they were, spoke an element of truth. “When you need someone to hold you, my arms are yours. You make my days brighter, and I love how full of life you are. I love that I never know what you’re going to say or do, or even who you will be in the next moment, the next month or next year. You keep me on my toes and remind me to live my life to the fullest, and not settle into a routine just because it’s easy and what I always do. We bring out the best in each other, both as colleagues and as friends. And as your husband, I want you to know that I will continue to be as devoted to your plans as you are. Know that I will always be here for you, and we will always be friends.”
Amy’s eyes had grown wet as he spoke, and now the tears spilled over. She gave a little hop when he finished and threw herself into his arms, squeezing him tightly. Moe rubbed her back until she slipped from his embrace and faced Mary Alice.
Amy cleared her throat, and her voice was higher than normal as she asked, “My turn?”
“When you’re ready,” the woman said, dabbing at her own eyes.
“Moe,” Amy said, not bothering to dry her wet cheeks as she read from a Brew Babies cocktail napkin, “I don’t know what I did to deserve such a wonderful, kind, loving and supportive best friend, but I’m grateful.” She looked up. “Even when you’re super cheesy.” A glint of humor twinkled in her eyes.
He chuckled. “Way to work that into your vows.”
She flashed him a wink and drew in a shaky breath, the note in her hands trembling ever so slightly. “Any woman would be honored to have a man like you in her corner, and even more honored to have him step up as her husband. I hope…” Her voice suddenly wobbled dangerously. “I hope—”
Moe edged into her personal space, cupping her bent elbows in case she needed support. She rested her vows against his chest and looked up briefly before bending her head to read from the napkin again.
“I hope I don’t fail you,” she whispered. “I hope that I’m able to give you at least half of what you give me, because it’s so much. My life is better for having you in it, and every sacrifice you have ever made for me has not gone unnoticed.”
Moe’s mouth quirked as he tried to comprehend where she was coming from. He hadn’t made any sacrifices. Amy was a dedicated friend, and everything he did was for them. That’s how their friendship worked, and always had.
And when it came to their marriage, he couldn’t imagine either of them living with anyone else. All the men in her life had come and gone, just like the women in his. Their pledge was perfect. Their friendship was perfect.
“It will only be a sacrifice if you start making me watch horror movies,” he said.
Amy giggled, her body relaxing as it bounced against his. He drew her into another hug. There was a lightness inside her when she was happy that made everything feel easy.
Mary Alice went through a few more lines of legalities, binding them together as husband and wife.
They were married.
Moe grinned at Amy.
“You may kiss the bride,” Mary Alice said with a hint of mischief in her voice.
Amy’s mouth dropped open ever so slightly, and Moe leaned back.
Oh.
Right.
Of course they were going to have to kiss. That was kind of a staple activity in weddings, even between two friends.
Moe studied the woman in his arms, a warm feeling of calm coming over him. She was looking at him expectantly, her grip on him tightening.
They’d kissed before. No big deal, right?
Although maybe they could skip that part of the ceremony, since it felt a bit too…real right now.
Amy was watching him, and despite this being a marriage of convenience, he knew that the appearance of a somewhat traditional marriage was important to her. She wanted to have this for their kids, to make them feel as though they were part of something genuine, something real. One kiss wouldn’t change a thing between them, right?
And everyone knew they had a friends
hip-based marriage pledge, so likely didn’t expect anything more than a quick peck, even though the two of them had tried dating a few times.
“Shall we?” he asked.
Amy nodded, her cheeks an endearing pink, her amber eyes a sunny golden color as she watched him move closer.
They could keep things platonic. He could give her a closemouthed kiss that looked convincingly appropriate in terms of levels of passion.
But as he lowered his mouth to hers he wondered how exactly one was to pull off a kiss like that with the alluring woman who was now his wife.
Moe was kissing her—kissing her like there was something between them. Something that had never shown up the two times they’d forayed into the territory of lovers.
There was a depth and meaning to their kiss that didn’t make sense to her. They hadn’t married for love. They were only friends.
Was the wedding ceremony getting to them? Was it because their sweet vows had felt like heartfelt confessions? Was it the white dress? The “I do” and “you may kiss the bride”?
It had to be.
And yet this felt like something that went way beyond any of that.
Amy stroked the unfamiliar short hair at the nape of Moe’s neck as they continued to kiss, his strong arms secure around her waist and back as they embraced. The kiss grew more intimate and she wrapped her arms around Moe’s broad shoulders to steady herself. His strength was natural and came from carrying kegs of beer into the brew pub where they both worked. She’d found herself distracted from tallying inventory more than a time or two thanks to the fluid way he moved, chucking cases of alcohol and soda with such ease she wished she was a filmmaker so she could capture his movements. Graceful, yet powerfully masculine, in control and yet so carelessly casual, too.
She froze midkiss, her fingers woven into his soft hair, realizing that her best friend was lighting a fire within her that hadn’t burned in a very long time.
But before she could stop herself and break free, she found herself drifting back into the kiss, trying to let go of the nagging feeling that this boundary-blurring body contact could quite easily complicate their simple, platonic pledge.
