"I have a bit of a problem with feeling inferior to my siblings," he says once we are under the cover of the forest and out of earshot of anyone in sight. "My brother is kind of the golden child of the family. He's actually the reason I have that house. And, many other things. No one ever lets me forget it. 'We sent you all the way to Canada and all you do is become a teacher' and that kind of thing. But my brother—Oscar—has everything they could ever want. And I know I shouldn't, but I compare myself to him."
"You're right, you shouldn't." I interrupt his speech. "You don't need to be your brother. I... I like you just the way you are."
"About that," he sighs. "That day I came home early?"
I know it. He knows I know it. So I say nothing.
"Well, that day, I got a call from my parents demanding my presence in country for a ceremony in my brother's honour and I just wanted to come home and let you hold me. Maybe I should be ashamed of that, I—"
"You shouldn't be!" I protest. "I wish I'd known."
"And that's where I need to apologize. I was so upset with them I just lashed out. I do that sometimes, when the stress gets too much. I'm working on it."
We walk in silence again, gravel underfoot crunching as we do.
"Do you think maybe the fact that we didn't know each other two weeks ago is both the cause of our unhappiness and, maybe, our greatest joy?" I ask abruptly stopping in the middle of the path.
His face registers his confusion, so I continue.
"I mean, not knowing each other has made so many messes with us here trying to be perfect people, unwilling to admit we're swimming out of our depth. But back in Vegas, when we were just being us. When we weren't worried about fitting in or looking good or... well, I guess we were, but that part was pretend. The real part was just us. Us genuinely being interested in the same things and wanting to know more about each other and..." my face warms at the memory of our kiss.
He steps closer into me and rests his hands on either side of my head, gently pulling me toward him. And I let him guide me into a kiss that sends shivers down my spine. My arms find their way around his back and I pull him into me, closing the space between us. I cling for dear life, as though he's the lifeboat and I'm drowning.
Which maybe I was until he found his way into my life.
I let him take the lead, not worrying about how I look or what needs to be done, but just letting myself feel the warmth of his touch and the tender movement of his lips on mine. My head spins for want of air by the time he releases me, foreheads resting together.
"I want to be what you need, Bianca," he whispers, kissing my forehead. "I just don't know how."
"You are what I need," I reply. "You have always been what I need. I was just too scared to see it. I'm not a perfect wife. You're not a perfect husband. We never will be. But we love each other and we're willing to put in the effort. So what's stopping us? Who says we have to do this any particular way? Let's just be us. Like we were back in Vegas."
His face falls. "I can't do that, Bianca."
I push him away from me. What the hell was that kiss about then?
"No! Not like that! Bianca, wait." He reaches for my hand and I gingerly place my fingers in his. "Bianca, I..." he swallows. "I love you. More than you probably realize. But I can't be the guy I was in Vegas. Here, I'm—"
"Here you're the same guy," I interrupt, finally understanding his meaning. "Here you are the same caring man who wants what's best for me. You are afraid of heights but you climb mountains anyway and you know what?" I can't help the laugh that escapes. "Now, so do I! You've changed me in all the right ways, Enrique, and, if you'll let me, I want to be here for you. I want to be the one you come home to when you have a bad day. I want to be the first person you think of when you wake up and I want to watch you eat my bad food and pretend you like it."
I take a deep breath and release it. Here goes nothing.
I focus my attention on his eyes. I have to get this right. "Enrique, I want to be your wife. For now and forever. Because we make each other the best version of ourselves. If only we allow ourselves to be who we are, I know we can make it. And if that means I have to come sit in your classroom and watch you grade exams I'm willing to do that because—" deep breath, Bianca. "Because I love you. More than you'll ever understand but, if you'll let me, I'd really like to try."
"That was a long speech to tell me you want to stay married," he laughs, pulling me into a hug and nuzzling his face into my neck.
"There's no need to be scared anymore," I laugh. "Unless you don't agree with me."
"I knew I wanted to stay with you from the moment I first laid eyes on you."
"And I didn't realize until very recently that I fell for you. But somewhere along the way it happened and I..." A laugh escapes me again. "I actually can't believe I'm not walking down a mountain alone right now."
"May I?" he asks, holding out his arms like he's holding serving platters.
"May you what?"
"Carry you."
"Oh, yeah. Go ahead." I wrap my arms around his neck and allow him to scoop me up, swinging my legs over his arm and effortlessly carrying me down the road to a small clearing with a single tent in the center.
"Here we are, my lady." Enrique gently places me on the ground and guides me to sit on a nearby log. "Just a second."
And then he leaves me sitting there on the log in the middle of a damp clearing and runs into the warm, dry tent. Alone.
"Enrique? You planning to leave me here for the wolves?" I call, when he doesn't return after several minutes.
"I'll be right there. Plus, no wolves in these parts. Promise."
He's laughing, but I admit I'm not. My foot hurts, my back hurts, and for some reason I'm shivering. And then, suddenly, an orange tabby who is more fur than cat is circling my legs, purring and rubbing his head onto my ankles. I follow his pink leash back to its origin.
"You must be Charles," I whisper. "I've heard a lot about you. But next time, please don't steal my phone."
He nudges my hand once when I try to pet him and then curls up at my feet, warming me.
Finally, Enrique reemerges from the tent and smiles at me.
"Charles exists!" I cry, gesturing wildly to the fluffball sleeping at my feet.
"What do you mean, 'Charles exists'? Who did you think was stealing all of your things?"
A blush creeps up my cheek. "I thought I was losing them and you were placating me like a child."
"I would never. Who could invent a cat like that?" He gestures to all of Charles's sleeping form.
"I like him," I answer finally.
"I'm glad." He clears his throat. "Bianca Daleman. I hope for the last time, I would like to ask you to be my wife."
"Was that you asking?" I giggle, knowing for the first time that we both know what we're getting into. We're ready.
"No." He clears his throat and slides down onto one knee, opening a now-familiar box. "Bianca Daleman, would you do me the honour of agreeing to remain my wife."
I can't believe how perfect it feels to finally know the answer to that question. Not for a family curse or proving to my ex that I'm not pathetic. Just for Enrique. For the man who knows me better than I know myself. Who isn't perfect, but loves me. Wholly and completely.
"Bianca?" Enrique prods. "I think you're supposed to give an answer."
I haven't answered? I could have sworn I—
"Bianca?" Enrique's shaking slightly, as though there is some risk to the question.
"Sorry! Of course yes. I thought that was obvious by the fact that I'm still wearing my makeshift wedding ring." I hold my hand up for him to see my grandmother's ring pressed into my cold finger.
"So, where do we go now?" Enrique asks, sliding my ring back onto my finger, where it will stay.
"I was hoping we'd stay here so I never have to walk again," I groan, sliding my head onto his shoulder. "Everything hurts."
And then the man laughs in my face. Rude.
"I was thinking we'd stay the night at least," he manages to say between laughs. "But I've been up here since you left and I'm running out of clothes."
"Oh, good. I might have to borrow something to sleep in," I admit, recalling my chaotic collection of clothing in my useless backpack.
"But I meant more large-scale. Like, what does our relationship look like going forward?"
"Well, I was thinking, we should probably tell everyone else. And then, well, I was wondering if—and you can tell me if you think it's a bad idea—but I was wondering if you might want to have a wedding reception or maybe an actual wedding we can remember?"
"And pictures taken by someone whose name we know?" he asks, twirling my ring between his fingers and then kissing my temple.
"Exactly."
"I'd like that." I can tell he's smiling by the way he says 'that'.
"So, tell me the truth," I say after a few moments of silence. "Did you actually go back to school and grade exams that day I had the girls over?"
"I really did." He sighs. "And, if I'm being honest, I was a bit irrationally upset and thought you probably didn't want me around. Work was taking me away so much and you never had a chance to settle in and I felt really stupid. Like I should never have married you knowing what you had to come back to, but then, somehow, I was married to you and... well, you know the rest."
"Yup," I wrap my arms around him. "And you're stuck with me now. You already married me."
"Oh, is that so?" He asks, pushing me away so he can see my face.
I hold a neutral position for as long as I can before the smile cracks through. "Don't look at me like that!"
"But you're my wife."
"And you're my husband."
"It's still kind of weird to hear you say that."
"Maybe it'll always be weird. Maybe we'll be old and grey and still wondering why on earth we ended up as husband and wife."
"Goodness, I hope not. I'd like to have figured it out by then."
"I don't think it'll take long," I reason. "But maybe you should practice some more, just so I can get used to it."
"Thank you for agreeing to be my wife," he says, pulling me into a kiss.
"And thank you for asking to be my husband," I smile. "I'm still going to make you bad spaghetti sometimes, though."
"I'd have it no other way, my darling wife."
"Nope. Don't like that one."
"You're going to take some getting used to, aren't you?"
"Good thing you have your whole life ahead of you, then, isn't it?"
"It certainly is." He sighs and pulls me into his chest. "So, tell me, how was the hike up here, really?"
"Now you're just teasing!"
"Maybe, but I still wanna know."
"Fine. Get comfy, because I have stories."
His arm warms my shoulder as he pulls me close and kisses the top of my head. "I've got all the time in the world."
"Oh no!" I bolt upright. "We've missed your whole reunion."
He pulls me in closer and smooths my hair down with his hand before kissing me. "I'm already exactly where I want to be," he mutters so low I'm not sure I'm supposed to hear it.
I'm exactly where I'm supposed to be, too, Enrique. Somehow, I'm sure.