51. Oath of Devotion #2
Griffin says quietly from behind him, “We know.”
Dex points toward him without taking his eyes off me. “Don't heckle the groom.”
A few people laugh.
Then his hand closes more firmly around mine.
“I spent a really long time thinking love was something people gave you until you got difficult enough that they changed their mind.”
The room disappears around him.
“You changed that. You never loved me like I was temporary. Even before either of us knew what the hell we were doing, you looked at me like I was worth figuring out.”
My throat tightens.
“You make me want a future I used to be scared to plan for. So I'm choosing you too. On purpose. Repeatedly. Probably annoyingly. For as long as you'll put up with me.”
I laugh softly. “That's a long time.”
“Good.”
Cami wipes quickly beneath one eye. “Okay. Rings, before I become emotionally compromised.”
Griffin hands Dex my ring.
It's black and clean, simple enough that it looks exactly like something I would have picked for myself.
Dex takes my left hand but doesn't immediately slide the band onto my finger.
“Wait.”
I look at him.
His expression has changed, the humor softening around the edges.
“Before I put this on you, the most important part is inside.”
He turns the ring between his fingers so I can see the engraving.
THANKS FOR PUTTING UP WITH ME
I stare at it.
Then at him.
Dex bites his lip.
“That was almost my entire vow.”
The laugh that comes out of me catches in my throat halfway through.
Cami makes a small, broken sound behind us.
“You're an idiot,” I tell him.
“Your idiot.”
Then he slides the ring onto my finger.
The black band settles against my skin, hiding the words inside.
I know they're there anyway.
I pick up the narrow band we had made for him. He refused to replace the engagement ring I designed, so we found something thin enough to sit against it without competing with it.
I slide it onto his finger.
He immediately looks down at the two rings together, and the smile on his face changes into something quieter.
Cami draws in another breath.
“By the authority granted to me by the state of Colorado and an alarming amount of confidence from an online ordination website, I now pronounce you husbands.”
Dex is already moving before she finishes.
His hand closes around the back of my neck, and his mouth finds mine while the room erupts around us.
For a few seconds, I don't hear much beyond him—the small laugh that slips into the kiss, the pressure of his thumb behind my ear, the uneven breath we share when neither of us seems interested in pulling away.
When we finally do, his forehead rests against mine. “My husband.”
The words settle somewhere deep.
“My husband.”
His smile is ridiculous.
I hope mine is too.
Hannah and Abigail find us before the reception gets fully underway.
For a second, the three of us just stand there.
Then Hannah hugs me hard enough that I have to catch my balance.
“I wasn't missing this.”
My arms close around her automatically.
When she steps back, her eyes are wet.
“You're still my family, Micah. Whatever anybody else thinks, you're still family to me.”
The words hit differently than I expect.
They don't erase anything, and they aren't supposed to. They simply give me something else to hold beside everything I lost.
“Thank you.”
Abigail hugs me next, quieter and faster.
“I saw the engagement pictures,” she explains after she steps back. “I still follow you.”
Hannah gives her a look. “You stalk him.”
“I follow him.”
“Same thing.”
Dex steps up beside me. “Do I get introduced, or are we pretending I'm decorative?”
Abigail laughs.
I feel something in my chest loosen again.
“Hannah, Abigail, this is Dex.”
Dex holds up his left hand. “Husband, apparently.”
“We know who you are,” Hannah tells him.
“From my illustrious music career?”
Abigail smiles. “Mostly from Micah's pictures.”
Dex puts a hand over his heart. “That's somehow more flattering.”
They laugh at him.
He beams.
And I realize that was what I wanted most from this interaction.
Not explanations.
Not apologies on behalf of anyone else.
Just this.
Them meeting him.
Seeing him.
Being kind.
Dex gets every traditional reception moment he asked for.
We cut the cake.
He gets frosting on my nose despite promising he wouldn't.
I put some on his cheek in return, and he announces loudly enough for his mother to hear that this feels vaguely sexual.
She tells him she's aware he's had sex before.
Dex nearly drops the cake knife.
The DJ takes over once dinner is finished, and after the tables are cleared from the center of the room, I catch the sound cue I've been waiting for.
Dex doesn't.
He thinks the DJ is about to start our first dance.
Then the microphone comes alive.
Austin Fletcher walks onto the small stage carrying an acoustic guitar.
Dex freezes beside me.
His head turns toward the stage, then slowly back toward me.
“No.”
I smile.
His eyes widen. “No fucking way.”
Austin laughs into the microphone. “Congratulations, man.”
Dex stares at me. “You did this?”
“I called him.”
“You called Austin?”
“Yes.”
“You hate calling people.”
“I do.”
That seems to affect him more than anything else.
Austin doesn't make a production of being there. He explains that the song started as something he wrote for someone he loves, and that I asked whether he'd be willing to change a couple of lines for two people who understood the point of it.
Then he plays.
Just his voice and an acoustic guitar.
The arrangement sounds almost nothing like the music he's known for. Softer. Stripped down enough that the melody has nowhere to hide.
Dex's arms settle around me.
Mine wrap around him.
For once, he doesn't talk.
His cheek presses near mine while we move slowly across the floor, and I feel his breath change when one of the altered lines lands.