Forever Yours: Mini Sequel

The Wedding Part II

The Wedding Part II

I couldn't breathe.

It felt like it, at least. The pounding in my ears was so loud, I was having a hard time hearing anything other than the sound of the blood rushing through my head.

The familiar strains of the wedding march spilled out into the now empty hall and I sucked in a breath.

Breathe in... breathe out...

"Ready?"

I looked up into my father's eyes and nodded, dazed. He took my hand and slipped it into the crook of his elbow.

Breathe in, breathe out... my heart thundered away in my chest.

As we began the slow-paced trek down the aisle, everyone turned to stare. I heard the gasps and the exclamations. Saw the tears. I felt the blood pulsing in my face and for a short, terrifying second, I felt the hem of my dress catch beneath the toe of my heel. But Dad's arm was steel beneath mine and I steadied myself in the nick of time.

Then I looked up. And Ryan's eyes met mine.

"I love you," he mouthed.

"I love you," I moved my trembling lips to form the soundless words.

We'd reached the altar. Dad turned to me and I gave a teary, startled laugh when I realized that he was crying. There was love in his eyes, and sadness and happiness and hope and even fear. I felt my heart ready to burst within in my chest – but the only bursting was that of the salty, wet kind, and as the tears streaked down my face, Dad kissed me, whispered "I love you, honey," in my ear, and put my hand in Ryan's. Shaking, I gave a little half-sob as Dad turned away, and then I was looking up at Ryan. He suddenly seemed so tall, so handsome, so perfect in every way – for a split second, I felt like I was looking at him for the first time, and I couldn't breathe. Those burning blue eyes were gazing into mine, that large, warm hand was wrapped around my clammy, white one, and inside my chest, a love I didn't think was possible, much less one that I could call mine, blazed like fire, right down to my stomach, so strong, it almost hurt.

And suddenly, I wasn't scared.

I wasn't scared of being married. I wasn't scared of leaving home.

Because wherever Ryan was, there would be my home.  

 ~  *  ~

I couldn't honestly say I remember the following ten minutes. Later, when I watched the recorded ceremony, I was relieved to note that I said all the vows correctly. Yes, I was red. And my voice was horribly shaky. But at least I said, "I do," and not "I dued. I mean, I DO!" Which is what I said the night before. (I'd never live that one down: Ryan alone managed to keep a semi-straight face while my entire family dissolved into hysterical laughter and I nearly burst into tears.)

By the time we got to the reception, I was having so much fun, I almost forgot all about my prior het-ups. I kept running into old relatives that we hadn't seen since Lauren's wedding and old friends from Long Island. Every single one of them made some sort of reference to how handsome Ryan was, and then asked when we were planning to start making babies. 

"And the honeymoon? Where you going?" One of Dad's distant Puerto Rican cousins, an older, overweight woman, squeezed my hand and twinkled up at me, her mouth stretched into a toothy, suggestive smile.

At this point of the evening, after answering it tens of other times, I'd grown immune to the question. I didn't even blush.

"We're touring Europe." I mumbled. It sounded so pretentious – touring Europe. But Dad had gifted us an abnormally huge sum of money as a wedding present, and because everyone knew how much I wanted to travel, they thought we should go to Europe and spend a month or two traveling. I couldn't deny it, I loved the idea. It was just weird to tell other people about.