15. Zane
Zane
It’s the second time I’ve been left standing in front of wedding guests while my bride is late.
I fight the urge to look around for a clock. I know I won’t find one, not in my dad’s barn.
I keep my eyes trained on the open barn doors.
There’s a calm in my heart, and I don’t know why, but I know without a shadow of a doubt that Bliss will walk through those doors at any moment.
I know she won’t leave me here, standing in front of all our friends and family—again.
I know she will follow through on her promise, and I smile at that.
This time, I don’t bother to hide my grin. It is my wedding day after all. People would expect to see some joy, wouldn’t they? And that grin is exactly what Bliss sees when she steps around the corner on her father’s arm.
Wow, is she beautiful.
I’m beginning to think I should’ve taken the time to date her properly and for real, but it’s a little too late since we’re getting married.
My smile wanes as the music changes and she takes a step toward me.
Her dress has a swoop up in the front, showcasing her red cowboy boots that we bought together.
The slit on one side of the dress showcases her toned legs.
She has her hair curled softly around her face.
The shiny black curls accentuate her blue eyes even more than normal.
Hubert looks a little misty-eyed, and now I know why they’re late. He was probably trying to talk her out of marrying me. I don’t blame him; I would too.
She is special, and she deserves the best. Our marriage is unconventional.
We didn’t fall madly in love with each other and promise to love each other forever.
We’re both a solution to the other person’s problem.
And strangely enough, I think we’re both the only people we trust. While that isn’t a wildly romantic reason to get married, I intend to mean the vows that I say today.
I plan on trying my best to make her happy.
She makes her way down the aisle, the music playing loudly. She has a smile on her face, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. She’s looking all around the room. Every chair is full of family and friends who have known both of us our whole lives. There’s a lot of pressure on her.
When her eyes finally meet mine, her polite smile turns into a smirk. I’d rather see that smirk shift into a grin. The closer she gets, the more I want to ask her what she’s happy about.
I barely hear the preacher ask, “Who gives this woman to this man?”
Hubert hugs his daughter, then shakes my hand. Bliss comes to stand next to me, and I reach for her hand, holding it in mine.
She grins up at me. “You look fancy today.”
“You look exquisite today.” My voice is husky.
She shrugs one shoulder. “I am the bride after all.”
“That you are.” I squeeze her hand in mine, and we both give our attention to the officiant.
The pastor, Jason Ludlow, talks about commitment and love and a whole host of other things that I’m not paying attention to, because Bliss came through. She didn’t leave me at the altar. And she thinks I look fancy today. I knew I could count on her.
“And now it’s time for the vows.” Jason grins as he closes the Bible after reading 2 Corinthians 13.
“The couple told me they might be too nervous to read their vows themselves, but I told them they could do it. It’s always so much better when it comes directly from the heart.”
Of course, Jason would want us to do that. He thinks we’re madly in love.
Luckily, I was prepared for this moment.
I pull a slip of paper from my pocket. “Well, in this case, it’s going to have to come straight from the paper because I know I’m too nervous to get it right,” I say with a chuckle.
Bliss squeezes my hand and smiles up at me.
Hopefully, she’s not expecting something amazing. Because the vows we exchange are a basic reiteration of every other wedding ceremony out there. There’s nothing unique about them. We promise to stand by each other’s side in sickness and in health, for richer or poorer.
When Jason pronounces us man and wife and tells me to kiss the bride, I sweep off my cowboy hat and pull Bliss to me with my free arm.
I bend her over backward, shielding our faces from the crowd with my hat and keeping the back of my head toward Jason.
Our noses touch, but nothing more, and then I pull her upright again and raise our joined hands in the air.
I toss my hat, and Max catches it with a grin.
I scoop Bliss off her feet, those red cowboy boots kicking in the air as she settles into my hold, and carry her down the aisle in a triumphant march. Her arms loop around my neck and I can smell her perfume. We turn the corner around the barn, and I set her on her feet.
“Was that okay?” I whisper in her ear. But my question is interrupted by the bridal party bearing down on us, congratulating us and giving us hugs. Our friends and siblings have no qualms about interrupting a private moment between us as newlyweds.
It’s a swarm of well-wishes, a million questions, and soon, Bliss and I are pulled apart.
We are forced to mingle right away. We spend most of the time walking back and forth between all the guests, greeting people, accepting their congratulations, and telling them our plans for the next couple of years.
There are tables scattered all around outside the barn with sunflowers as centerpieces—Bliss’s request. There’s a dance floor set up with patio lights hung around the perimeter and speakers that are already playing music. It’s a simple wedding, but it’s everything that Bliss wanted.
And finally, when it’s time for dancing, I’m ready to drag her out onto the dance floor and have a minute alone.
I hold my hand out to her and lead her out onto the dance floor. Night has fallen, and the stars are shining bright.
“I might trip,” Bliss says in a quiet voice as she lifts her skirt to drape it over one of her arms. Her red cowboy boots bump against mine.
“Don’t worry; I won’t let you fall,” I promise her as I loop an arm around her back.
Her cheeks are flushed, and her eyes grow wide as she glances over my shoulder at all the people watching us. Luckily, the music is loud enough that they can’t hear our conversation.
“You don’t like to be the center of attention, do you?” I ask.
“No, not really. I would prefer to be the one sitting in the back of this wedding reception,” she admits with a nervous laugh.
I adjust my hold on her so that I can help hold up the train of her dress while we move around the dance floor together. She has good rhythm, and it’s easy to dance with her. We’re not doing anything complicated, only a few simple steps, and she’s letting me lead.
“This is the second wedding of mine you’ve been to.” My comment makes me cringe. Why would I bring up the fact that she came to my first wedding?
“Well, I know you know how to throw a party,” she replies with a tight smile, “and you got cheated out of a good reception the first time.”
We stay quiet for a few seconds, then I ask, “Do you know why I wanted to marry you? Besides the obvious reason—that we’re helping each other.”
She shakes her head slowly. “I know why you needed to get married, but I don’t know why you asked me specifically,” she replies honestly.
I stare down into her blue eyes. “You came back for me,” I say simply. “At my last wedding.”
The day is forever etched in my mind. Every guest, every family member, went home after my fiancée didn’t show up to the wedding.
And I sat on those church stairs alone. Bliss was the one who walked down the aisle of the church and took my hand.
She pulled me to my feet and led me out of the building, then drove me home.
She didn’t ask questions; she didn’t demand juicy details.
She simply drove me home, made a pot of coffee for me, and left.
I don’t think we said a single word to each other the entire time. She’s never spoken of it in the years afterward.
Now, looking back, I can see that she did what needed to be done, and it was exactly what I needed from her—her silent support.
Maybe that was the point where I started seeing Bliss as a pillar, someone I could lean on and rely on.
Someone who was there for me. Over the past year, I feel as though she’s become a true friend.
And it might not be a foundation of wild, romantic love, but it is a foundation, and I hope I can be the same for her.
Because I’ve seen the loneliness in her eyes, almost as if she doesn’t know where she belongs, and I know she wants to belong here in Pine Ridge, running her business. I hope she feels she belongs with me.
“I didn’t do much that day,” she finally says. “I just knew you shouldn’t sit there alone.”
“I think everyone else was too scared to even approach me,” I say with a chuckle. “But you weren’t.”
“Being someone’s friend means supporting them even when it’s uncomfortable.”
That’s a loaded statement. On one hand, she’s just friend-zoned me as her husband; on the other, she’s proving that she’s exactly the kind of person I want to be married to.
“This is me trying to thank you, Bliss. I’m trying to thank you for being there for me, even when I didn’t know what I needed.”
She tips back so that she can look me in the eye.
“You’re a good man, Zane. And I hope, someday, you’ll realize you’re somebody worth loving too.”