Crazy Little Thing Called Love

Three-Let's Make it Final

My mom screamed at me for a long time when I told her I was engaged. She freaked even more when I told her the wedding was the coming Saturday—because Logan at least talked me out of getting hitched the day after I proposed. As much as she and my dad tried talking me out of it, I held firm. They pretty much voiced the only concerns I had thought up all on my lonesome, but they weren’t going to change my mind.

A day later, my mom came at me with a softer approach. "Honey. I know you love Logan. It’s not that I doubt that at all. I always knew you two were going to end up together." Her smile faded, her eyes concerned. "But you’re going to lose him, darling. And I’m just afraid that if you two get married, that it’ll hurt you even more."

"Mom," I said, keeping my voice calm. "It’s going to hurt me no matter what I do. Thinking about what we could have been when we got older is what’s going to kill me the most."

She had just told me that I was a brave woman and that she loved me. She never tried to talk me out of it again.

"You sure you wanna do this?" Logan laughed Friday evening.

I nodded. It had been a mad dash—finding a caterer, a dress, bridesmaids dresses; all that jazz—but my mom was amazing and wouldn’t let deadlines stop her. Pretty much everyone listened to her. The worst part was that she called people instead of sending invites, but that was my fault, anyway. I didn’t want to elope. I wanted Logan to have a real wedding.

Sure, it wasn’t going to be the most glamorous thing, but it hardly was going to look as last minute as it was. It was sweet that people were really pulling in for Logan; because by then they all knew.

"Nothing I can say is gonna stop you, huh?" he guessed with a grin.

I shook my head. "Nope."

"Alright then," he sighed. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a velvet box. When he opened it, his grandmother’s simple and beautiful engagement ring sat inside. "This was my grandmother’s, as you know. Sorry it took so long. We had to resize it for your puny finger."

I giggled, letting him slip the ring on. Somehow this made everything more real.

"This is weird, right?" Logan chuckled after a minute.

With a shrug, I said, "Nah. It’s beautiful." To me, it didn’t matter if we were seventeen or twenty-seven. Because I really did love Logan. Love could only grow stronger, right?

"I still think we’re rushing things," he muttered.

I pushed his shoulder gently. "Will you stop? You’re ruining it!"

He held my hand in his, caressing my knuckles. "We don’t have to tell everyone you proposed, right?"

I laughed softly at that. "What’s wrong with me proposing? We wouldn’t be doing this if I hadn’t, you know."

"No, we would be," he argued. "Just at a different time."

I snuggled up close to him, feeling his heart beat. "If fate be kind. Which it’s not."

Logan kissed my temple. "Don’t be bitter when I’m gone, Beth," he said so softly I barely heard him. "Be happy for the time we’ve had together. I know I am."

I closed my eyes tightly, willing myself not to cry—again. I had cried more in the span of two weeks than I had in my entire life; and getting in trouble does not count. "I am happy, Logan. I really am. But I don’t see how I won’t be bitter."

"It’ll be hard," he agreed. "But you’ll just have to be strong and fight it."

"Like you," I whispered.