Chapter 21
21
EVE CASSIDY
Five Years Ago
‘I can’t believe we’re doing this!’ I exclaim.
‘You can’t fight love,’ Foster says, his fingers interlaced with mine as he gives me a reassuring squeeze. His touch is warm and comforting, and I can feel his love coursing through his grasp. ‘It’s like trying to hold back an ocean with your bare hands.’
I glance up at him with a smile. ‘You better write that down for your vows.’
‘How can I help you two?’ a mousy woman behind the court registrar counter asks. She’s barely taller than the vase of white daisies sitting on the counter beside her.
‘We’re here for a marriage license,’ Foster says.
‘Congratulations!’ she chirps happily, reaching into a file full of paperwork. ‘Fill these out and we’ll need a copy of each of your driver’s licenses.’
The two of us fish our licenses out from our wallets and begin completing the documents she’s given us.
‘Where’s the ceremony taking place?’ she asks.
Foster’s and my eyes meet.
‘That’s something we haven’t thought of yet,’ I say to him.
‘I just proposed yesterday, on a whim.’
‘Yesterday?’ the woman asks.
He nods. ‘We’re sort of doing this spontaneously.’
‘How romantic!’ she says, suddenly lifting a single finger into the air. ‘Give me just one second.’ She turns, disappearing from the small office while we finish up our paperwork.
‘How do you think your parents will feel?’ I ask, signing my name on the bottom of the paper.
‘That I’m nuts, but that’s their usual opinion of me, so no surprise.’
I laugh, leaning into him and kissing his shoulder as he finishes his document. ‘You’re the best kind of nuts.’
‘Save that for your vows,’ he says, scribbling out his usual signature, minus the ‘Famous 15’ he usually adds on.
When the mousy woman reappears, she has a middle-aged man in a black robe with her. ‘This is Judge Ashford. Today is his twenty-fifth wedding anniversary and he’d love to marry you two in his chambers,’ she offers with a friendly smile.
‘Really?’ I ask, the flutter of butterflies in my chest growing with each passing second. This is real. ‘When’s your next availability?’
Judge Ashford glances at the clock on the wall. ‘In five minutes. Last wedding of the day. How about it?’
Foster glances at me, his eyes twinkling mischievously. ‘What do you say, love? This wouldn’t be a whirlwind romance if we didn’t do this,’ he teases.
I can’t help but laugh, feeling the bubble of excitement in my chest. ‘Are we this nutty? Met, engaged, and married – all in thirty days?’
‘I think so,’ he says confidently. ‘Let’s do it.’
The woman claps her hands in front of her excitedly then checks through our paperwork, sliding our licenses back to us across the counter.
‘Everything looks good,’ she says, her pen viciously moving through part of the papers. ‘I just love weddings,’ she mumbles as she works. ‘You two seem in love.’
‘We are,’ Foster agrees happily.
‘OK, we’re all set here, just follow me.’ The receptionist gathers a few things in her hands and leads us through the large reception area and through a door at the back of the room.
As we walk, I steal glances at Foster, taking in every detail of his handsome face, the way his eyes crinkle when he smiles, and the dimples that appear in his cheeks. This feels like a dream I never want to wake up from. I want to remember every single detail of today.
‘This is my wife, Evangeline, but I call her Evie.’ Judge Ashford motions to the woman sitting on a small couch off to the side of his office. Evangeline looks like she has just walked off the set of an Audrey Hepburn movie. She’s dressed to the nines, not a speck of make-up or hair out of place, and she’s beaming.
‘Congratulations!’ she says, standing and approaching us. ‘Aren’t you two just cute! Look, honey, we were young and adorable like them once.’
‘We sure were,’ he agrees.
Judge Ashford’s office is cozy, filled with the warm glow of afternoon sunlight streaming through the windows. I stand beside Foster, a surge of butterflies fluttering in my stomach as we face each other in front of the judge.
‘It’s nice to meet you, and happy anniversary,’ Foster says, shaking the judge’s wife’s hand. ‘Evie, huh?’ he asks, eyeing me.
‘That’s what he calls me too,’ I say excitedly.
‘Really?’ the judge’s wife asks.
Foster nods. ‘Could this be fate confirming our decision?’
‘I like the word serendipity,’ Evangeline says, as she reaches for our marriage license, setting it on her husband’s desk beside her.
‘Serendipity,’ I repeat her word softly. It does seem more plausible than fate. The word is just prettier, like a rose-colored sunrise over a field of wild flowers.
‘Chris likes to plan our anniversary dates, so I drove in for a romantic evening and now I get to witness a wedding!’
‘The most romantic night of our lives,’ the judge says, flashing her a less than professional flirtatious smile.
‘And you met Rosie a few minutes ago,’ the judge continues, motioning to the receptionist from earlier. ‘She’ll be our second witness.’
The mousy woman’s name is Rosie. ‘A couple of last-minute details,’ Rosie says after disappearing then scuttling back in a hurry, now approaching me with a small veil in one hand. ‘Someone left this a few months ago and I was waiting for the perfect bride-to-be to offer it. May I?’ she asks.
I’m the perfect bride? That’s flattering.
‘I didn’t expect a veil but yeah,’ I say, turning my back to her so she can attach it.
‘Also, these,’ she says when she’s done fluffing the white tulle to perfection, handing me a handful of the daisies I saw on the desk in her office. ‘I tied them with a blue string so you can use them as your something blue, something borrowed, and something new.’
‘You are a genius, Rosie.’
She smirks, lifting a single shoulder proudly.
‘How do you feel?’ she asks, as if we’re old confidantes.
‘Like I’m caught in the joyous chaos of a downpour of swirling confetti, and I want to remember every single second of it.’
‘Wow,’ she says with a smile. ‘That was beautiful.’
It’s beautiful because I left out being only the slightest bit terrified that I’m making a huge mistake. I’m 99.99 per cent sure I love this man. But marriage is forever and that is a long, long time to spend with a guy I’ve known thirty days.
Long deep breaths, Eve. This is real. You’re marrying Guy Foster – the sweetest, kindest, most dedicated, most handsome man you’ve ever met. Remember every moment.
I take the flowers from Rosie, holding them delicately in one hand and lifting them for a sniff only once, after remembering daisies smell a little like dirt – which is fitting considering my about-to-be-husband’s life.
‘You look beautiful,’ Foster says.
‘Stunning,’ Evangeline adds.
‘Thank you. I feel beautiful. And you were right, your handsome self really did wear the perfect shirt,’ I say to Foster, laughing at his tuxedo-print T-shirt that he insisted on wearing, even though he knew we were only coming in for a license today. He wanted to ‘dress the part’.
‘It’s completely kismet,’ he says, pretending to straighten his printed-on tie.
‘Are you ready?’ Judge Ashford asks, glancing at the two of us.
Foster grins widely at me, his hand reaching for mine. ‘More than ready.’
The judge clears his throat before reading out of a book in his hand. ‘Marriage is a shimmering vision, like a mirage in a desert. It’s a path that is seen clearly only by two people and appears to glow with the light of love, leading to an unknown yet exciting lifelong destination with your best friend.’
His voice is gentle yet powerful and I can tell this isn’t the first time he’s made this speech.
‘Over the years, my Evie and I have learned that love can be like trying to hold onto smoke, ethereal and elusive, constantly shifting and changing, yet always present and powerful. It’s a dance between two souls, a language spoken without words, a feeling that consumes every fiber of your being. I can see exactly that when I watch the way you two look at each other.’
We glance at each other nervously. He can see all that?
Foster squeezes my hand reassuringly as the judge continues.
‘Marriage is not just a legal union, but a promise to stand together through all the storms and sunshine life may bring. It’s a commitment to love, respect, and support each other, no matter what challenges may arise – love should be enough.’
‘It will be,’ Foster says, his gaze so intent I feel it.
‘For sure,’ I agree.
‘Do you, Guy,’ he reads Foster’s name off our paperwork, ‘take the lovely Eve to be your lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish until death do you part?’
Foster’s eyes never leave mine as he answers confidently, ‘I absolutely do.’
‘And Eve, do you take your handsome Guy here to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish until death do you part?’
Our witnesses giggle at his name pun as I take a deep breath, feeling the weight of his words. This is it, the moment that seals our fates together, forever intertwined – until death do us part.
‘I do,’ I say, looking into Foster’s warm gaze, feeling a sense of calm wash over me like the gentle waves on a serene beach.
‘By the power vested in me by the state of Oregon, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss your bride.’
Foster doesn’t waste a second, pulling me into his embrace and capturing my lips in a kiss that speaks of promises, passion, and a love that knows no bounds. The room fills with applause from our witnesses Rosie and Evie and we break apart, breathless and giddy with the weight of our new-found commitment.
The judge shakes Foster’s hand and then mine, congratulating us once again as we exchange smiles with our witnesses.
‘Let’s just get this paperwork signed,’ the judge says, handing us the pen one by one.
Once we’ve signed, Foster turns me toward him, his hands on my waist. ‘Well hello there, my beautiful wife,’ he whispers, his voice full of wonder and happiness.
‘Hi, my gorgeous husband,’ I reply softly, a smile breaking through my tears.
Judge Ashford clears his throat gently, bringing us back from our little bubble of love. He hands us our marriage certificate, five signatures and an official seal marking the beginning of our forever.
‘Before you leave,’ Evangeline says, ‘should we take a photo of the two of you to commemorate?’
‘Yes,’ I say, excitedly handing her my phone from my pocket.
Foster stands tall and proud, his arm wrapped around me in a protective embrace. In his hand, our marriage certificate glints with the official seal, a symbol of our commitment. We gaze at the photo on my phone, our smiles wide and our eyes sparkling with love and joy.
‘It’s perfect,’ Foster says.
‘Just like you,’ I agree.
We take a couple more, one with Judge Ashford, and another with the five of us, that I text to Evangeline as she requests so they can share what they did on their anniversary on Facebook.
‘Congratulations, again!’ the trio says when we step out of the judge’s cozy office.
I feel like I’m floating on air as we walk away from the building – married. I turn to Foster, feeling overwhelmed by a rush of emotions.
‘I can’t believe we did it,’ I say, my voice barely above a whisper.
Foster squeezes my hand. ‘It’s real, Jellybean. You are officially my wife.’
I take a deep breath, inhaling the scent of a new chapter in life and Foster’s cologne, committing this moment to memory.
‘Wow. I’m your wife and you’re my husband. Crazy.’
‘We might just be,’ he jokes.
This is the beginning of our happily ever after. As we reach the car, Foster opens the door for me with a flourish. I catch his eye and smile, knowing that this was just the first step of many we would take together. I settle into the seat beside him, lean over and kiss Foster’s cheek, whispering, ‘I love you.’
‘And I love you,’ he replies, his words carrying the weight of a lifetime of devotion.
And as we drive away, our hearts full of love, I know that even though we haven’t been together long, and the journey ahead may be uncertain, as long as we have each other, we can weather any storm that comes our way. Maybe we didn’t iron out the details, but the heart wants what the heart wants. Plus, we have a lifetime to iron out the details.
Now
Blinking my eyes open, I take in the familiar sight of my apartment, feeling a hint of disappointment at the realization that the perfect wedding that I romanticized for far too long was all just a dream – both then and now. The heaviness of that settles in my chest like a stone, a slightly resentful rock.
The light seeps through the curtains, the shadows dancing on the walls, and my alarm beeps incessantly like it’s mocking me for my brief escape from reality. This is not exactly how I pictured I’d feel waking up on my first day back to work after this crazy situation.
Nor did I expect to be going back to work so soon. I got the call from my boss late last night; they’re short-handed. Foster doesn’t even know yet, but I’ve set some alarms in his phone and left him a note.
I drag myself out of bed, the weight of exhaustion clinging to my limbs like a stubborn child refusing to let go. I shuffle into the kitchen, the smell of brewing coffee offering a faint promise of caffeine-induced salvation. As I sip my morning elixir, I can’t help but replay the dream in my mind – it felt so real, so vivid. I get what he’s talking about now – it’s like I was there. Again. How can the memory of his lips linger on mine like a ghostly caress, after a dream? That’s just his supernatural charm, I suppose.
Before I leave I check in on him, peacefully sleeping in my bed. He is gorgeous awake and stunningly beautiful when asleep. The perfect man that every girl talks about but only the rare actually acquire. And he’s not just a pretty face, he’s sweet, and funny, and I have a lot more good memories of him than bad. Looking back, maybe I was just being impatient and homesick when I left. Spoken words probably would have done more good than written ones.
He’s probably dreaming of our worst day, and will wake up hating me, having no idea I just relived the one day I’ve tried the hardest to forget. Quite possibly the happiest day of my life – still.
I sigh, turning away and grabbing my bag to head out the door. Maybe it was just a dream, but the confusion it’s stirred up is real and I’m not sure what to do with that yet.