Chapter 15
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
PASTEUR
Wednesday.
It was just supposed to be an ordinary Wednesday afternoon.
One-twenty-three in the afternoon precisely.
A day he would never forget.
Louis stood still, rooted in place, as the weight of the moment settled over him like a warm embrace. His crisp white Navy uniform was spotless, every thread, every polished button, and every deliberate crease a reflection of the discipline ingrained in him. But none of that mattered. Not today. Because today was the first day of the rest of his life.
The day he married his soulmate.
His heart pounded, a slow, reverent drum against his ribs as he stood at Lila’s side, his breath shallow, his pulse thrumming with an almost holy anticipation. The words of the chaplain wrapped around him like a sacred promise, filling the spaces between his ribs and sinking deep into his bones. He held onto them—every syllable, every sacred vow—as if they were written by fate itself, binding them together not just in this life, but in whatever came after.
He let his eyes close for just a moment, surrendering to the weight of it all. The sheer enormity of her.
He’d thought he’d known love before. Thought he understood what it meant to care for someone, to treasure them. But nothing— nothing —could have prepared him for the tidal wave of devotion that crashed into him the first time he saw her at Trophy’s apartment, realizing who she was. That moment alone had staggered him, had shattered and rebuilt him all at once. And now, here she was.
His.
A quiet, unsteady breath left his lips as he cracked his eyes open, drawn— helplessly drawn —to her.
Lila.
She was breathtaking. Not because of the soft lace of her dress or the delicate glow of the sunlight spilling through the chapel window but because of who she was. Because of the way her face tilted slightly upward, her gaze locked on the simple crucifix behind the chaplain, her expression one of pure, unfiltered peace.
A whisper of awe curled around his heart, tightening it in a way that almost hurt. She belongs here. With me. With Him.
As if sensing his stare, Lila slowly opened her eyes and turned to him.
And then she smiled.
Soft. Loving. Unshakable.
Louis felt the air leave his lungs in a sharp rush, the force of that simple expression knocking him off balance. His throat tightened. Gratitude swelled, thick and aching inside him.
“And do you Louis Michael Gagne take this woman for your wife, to have and to hold, in sickness and in health, for as long as you both shall live?”
The words rang out, steady and strong, but Louis barely heard them over the roar of his own heartbeat.
"I do," he said thickly, the promise settling into his soul like it had always been meant to be there.
“Lila, do you…”
“Oh yes,” she interrupted breathlessly, her voice trembling with uncontainable joy. “I absolutely do.”
Laughter rippled through the room, a gentle, knowing warmth. Louis barely registered it. His focus was solely on her—the way her eyes shimmered, the way her fingers trembled just slightly in his grasp.
He turned toward Stephanie, his voice low but filled with so much meaning. “Thank you for giving her my number.”
“Oh yes,” Lila agreed instantly, the memory washing over her with a reverence that made her eyes shine. “I was so nervous, so scared, and it took so much for me to send that first text…” Her breath hitched as she gazed up at him, her expression raw with emotion. “And you were the sweetest person, the most understanding, and… perfect . I couldn’t wish for a better friend in my life…”
Louis barely had time to process the weight of her words before Trophy clapped a firm hand against his shoulder. “Agreed.”
But then Lila spoke again, and his entire world narrowed to just her.
“I couldn’t hope for a more beautiful soul, a gentle soul, to find my broken one,” she whispered, her voice thick with tears.
Louis felt the sting behind his own eyes, an answering ache in his chest as he reached for her hand. Slowly, deliberately, he lifted it to his lips and brushed the softest of kisses across her knuckles, his own breath shaking.
“Because I know what a journey it’s been for you,” he breathed. “But you will never walk alone again. I will celebrate every moment, every smile, and cherish every laugh because you gave me the time of day.”
A tear slipped down her cheek as a watery laugh escaped her lips. “All my time is yours.”
His answering chuckle was low, reverent. “I’m a greedy man,” he murmured, his voice thick with love. “I’ll take them all.”
“I now pronounce you husband and wife,” the chaplain said over them.
The words barely had time to settle before Louis was pulling Lila into his arms, his hands steady as they cupped her face, his lips brushing softly—tenderly—against hers. It wasn’t just a kiss. It was a vow—a promise.
And then he was holding her, burying his face in her hair, inhaling the scent of lavender and warmth, his arms wrapped so tightly around her that not even the weight of the world could pry them apart.
"I love you," he whispered against her ear, his voice unshakable. "I will never give you a reason to doubt me or my feelings…"
"I know," she murmured, pressing closer, her hands smoothing up his back, cradling him as if she needed the connection just as much as he did.
This— this —was everything.
This was faith.
This was love.
She was the gift he didn’t know he needed.
And the one he would spend an eternity cherishing in his soul.
As they left the chapel, Louis kept Lila close, his fingers laced with hers, his grip firm as if afraid she might slip away. The evening air was thick with the scent of salt and jet fuel, the sounds of distant engines humming in the background, but all he could focus on was her—warm, solid, real. His heart still pounded from the overwhelming rush of homecoming from seeing her waiting for him on the pier. It had been everything.
His strides lengthened, pulling her toward the parking lot, toward the car he’d left behind before deployment. A lot of the guys hadn’t even bothered bringing one, relying on rides or sheer necessity to keep them on base. But Louis had needed an out—a way to escape when the walls of the ship closed in too tight. And now, he needed it more than ever.
Trophy and Stephanie were his best friends, his family in every sense of the word, but he understood the unspoken urgency Trophy must have felt—the desperation to be alone with his wife and child because Louis felt it, too.
He wanted to be alone with Lila. To hold her, to press her against him, and memorize the way she fit so perfectly in his arms. To breathe her in, whisper everything he had dreamed of in the lonely nights at sea. He needed to feel the steady beat of her heart against his, to reassure himself that this was real—that she was real.
Slipping into the car, he quickly followed the other couple off base.
Maybe tonight, they would talk about her moving here. Maybe she already had. Maybe he was getting ahead of himself, but the thought of falling asleep beside her and waking up with her in his arms every morning wasn’t just a fantasy—it was something he craved down to his bones.
She had come for him. That alone meant more than he could ever put into words.
“Is Ohio going to be okay?” Lila’s voice was soft and hesitant, and Louis felt the weight of it press against the heavy thoughts clouding his mind.
“He’s being discharged,” Louis said quietly, forcing himself to answer even as his throat tightened. “I can talk about it now, but before... it was a powder keg on the ship. No one knew how to handle it—so many people were shocked, so many were furious.”
“With good reason,” she murmured.
“Oh, I know.” He exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “I kept thinking, ‘what if it was me?’ And every time I did, I just… broke. I couldn’t stand the thought of you getting that call, of you having to go through something like that.”
Lila’s fingers tightened around his, and when she spoke, her voice trembled. “Is there a chance it could happen to you?”
“No,” he said, though even as he spoke the word, the image of Ohio’s plane haunted him. The impossible had happened once—who was to say it couldn’t again? He swallowed hard. “The cables don’t snap. Not like that. If you were going to win the lottery, that wasn’t the one you wanted your number drawn for.”
Her eyes searched his face, and he knew she wasn’t convinced. He wasn’t sure he was, either.
“We have four chances to hook a cable on the flight deck,” he explained, his voice thick. “He missed the first three. It should’ve been fine. He should have stopped on the fourth. And if you miss all of them, you just take off again. That’s how it works.” He hesitated, then shook his head, horror flickering in his eyes. “For his plane to spin off the deck like that... I’ve never seen anything like it. I don’t think I ever will again. It was a one-in-a-million thing.”
Lila’s expression was tight, her lips pressed together as if holding back a thousand words. “You said he was screaming?”
Louis exhaled through his nose, the sound ragged. “He’s terrified of the water now,” he whispered. “Every time a jet engine would spin up, he’d break down. They had to sedate him just to get him off the carrier. It was bad.”
“I’m so sorry,” Lila said, her voice full of quiet sorrow.
“Me too,” he admitted, his chest aching. Then, almost desperately, he turned toward her, needing to shift the weight of the conversation. “Wanna know a secret?”
Her brows lifted slightly, and he could see the curiosity sparking in her eyes. “Sure.”
“Just you and me,” he teased, nudging her gently. “You can’t say a word to Trophy or Stephanie.”
“I would never.”
“I know,” he said, the words carrying a quiet reverence. “Which is why I feel like I can share it with you… with my wife.”
Lila’s breath hitched, but she didn’t correct him. The flicker in her eyes, the way her lips parted slightly—he could see the way the word settled into her, warm and welcome.
“What’s the secret?” she asked softly.
Louis grinned, leaning in conspiratorially. “Ohio is with Laura.”
Lila’s expression morphed into intrigue. “Trophy’s little sister?”
“She’s four years younger than Ohio,” Louis clarified. “And he’s pushing twenty-nine.”
Her eyes widened in disbelief. “That guy was twenty-nine? He looked like he was twenty-one.”
Louis laughed, the tension finally breaking. “He gets so mad when he gets carded at bars.”
“I bet.”
He grinned, a spark of something lighter flickering back to life as he put the car in park and saw Trophy with his family, walking inside to their apartment nearby. He got out of the car, circled around, and opened Lila’s door, holding out his hand to her.
“All right,” he began, tugging her toward the couple’s apartment in the distance. “Let’s go in, make a little small talk, say hello, grab the carrot cake… and run to the nearest hotel.”
But before he could take another step, Lila hesitated. There was something in her eyes, something unreadable but deep, something that made his stomach tighten with anticipation.
“What?” he asked, brow furrowing.
She tilted her head, her lips curving in that secretive way that made his breath catch.
“The carrot cake is in our apartment,” she murmured, pointing at the other building.
His heart stopped.
His brain barely registered the words before he turned to face her fully, staring at her as if he’d misheard.
“Our… what?” he breathed, the world tilting on its axis.
“I moved,” she said simply, giving a casual shrug, but the sideways glance, the warmth in her eyes, the teasing edge in her smile—they told him everything.
The air left his lungs in a rush. “You’re kidding,” he whispered, his pulse hammering against his ribs.
She just shook her head, her gaze never leaving his.
His throat tightened, and he reached for her, cupping her face as if grounding himself as if making sure she wouldn’t disappear. “You’re here,” he rasped, wonder and disbelief bleeding into his voice. “For good.”
She nodded.
“You’re mine from here on out…” His voice cracked, raw and full of emotion. “Every night. Every morning.”
A single word slipped from her lips, soft and certain, filling the space between them with something sacred.
“Always.”