Choosing you #2
“Okay, I’m going to embarrass myself entirely now, which is why I was nervous about this speech. I’ve written a sort of poem.”
The crowd hums with anticipation as Aiden huffs a laugh, checking his notes.
He’s the cute Aiden. The one I sprayed gin all over.
The Aiden who—I’ve only realised in hindsight—liked me and couldn’t get the words out after the engagement party.
He’s the one who slept at an angle on a chair next to me in Florence.
“It’s on behalf of Will, because, as we all know and witnessed earlier today, he’s a man of few words.
In public at least. But if you get two Aperol Spritz in him, make sure you’re in a good seat.
” Aiden mimes babbling with his hand. “Alright, I’m no poet, but here are some words I’ve put together from Will to Amara. Okay, here goes.
I love you.
Not because it’s easy,
Although it is,
Easy, I mean.”
Aiden’s eyes flick up from his notes to me, and my heart leaps into my throat.
This poem is not from Will to Amara. It’s for me.
“I love you because you make me a better man,
And that is a challenge.
But it is one I shall take
Every day.”
Aiden pauses, smiling at Will, but again he glances at me. My heart tumbles wildly around in my chest. He wrote me a poem. And he’s reading it out in front of all these people, all nervous and cute.
“Because every day I’m with you
I will choose to be better,
To be the man you deserve.
Every day you choose to spend your time with me,
I’ll make sure I earn it.
I love you,
Because
Just by being yourself—”
He clears his throat, looking at me again, dropping his notes onto the table.
“You’ve elevated my standards,
You’ve raised the bar
Of what love means.
Love is no longer just that feeling
I thought it would be.
It’s no longer just perfect, or clear
Love is everything.
Including my mistakes
Including our lessons
Including the difficult days.
Love is imperfect,
But together we can fill the cracks with gold.
Love is being open, vulnerable
And daring to try.
Love is to grow together.
Love is waking up,
Every day
Choosing you
Choosing us
And making it what we want.”
Aiden finds his notes again. I wonder if it’s just to give himself a break. His hand shakes as it holds the papers, and it makes my lungs constrict.
This is Aiden trying. For me. His words sink in and I allow them to fill me.
Love isn’t perfect, and neither of us will ever be perfect—although right now this gorgeous man sure is close to it.
“I love you.” His voice cracks and he blinks at the paper. “Sorry,” he croaks.
Tears tickle my cheeks and I wipe them away quickly. Fuck, I promised myself I wouldn’t cry.
“I love you,” he repeats, and my breath comes out shaky. He turns back to Will and Amara and I take the opportunity to blink hard, fighting the next round of tears threatening to push through.
“Because
Your love makes my life a full life,
And I can’t wait
To call you my wife.”
Aiden looks up and a collective sigh ripples through the crowd before the applause kicks in. “To Will and Amara. Will and Mum,” Aiden says over the applause, and raises his glass to the happy couple, and then to the rest of us, who all raise our glasses with him, repeating his words.
“To Will and Amara.”
Aiden’s eyes lock with mine, he’s a blur through my tears (they won the battle), but I smile at him.
“May I?” Aiden asks when the first slow song starts.
We’ve not had a chance to talk since the speech.
Being the son of the bride comes with a lot of attention, especially after you recite a poem you’ve written and when you’re this handsome, because oh my, these ladies—old and young—are batting their eyelashes at my Italian man.
Yes. My man. I’m going to keep him.
With the conversation we had last night, him going to therapy, the look in his eye when he first saw me entering the room in this blue dress from Florence, that heartfelt poem…
He was so far out of his comfort zone, being vulnerable like that in front of everyone.
Sharing his words about his dad—despite being unable to finish the thought this time—and about his notion of love and personal flaws with the room.
He’s so right in everything he said.
We have to try.
Everything he’s done comes together as the kind of love that’s worth choosing every day. That’s worth fighting for.
The cute, shaking, deliciously nervous Aiden kicked me over the edge into the decision, and I’m certain it’s the right one. Especially when he looks at me the way he does right now.
My hand is right at home in his, and, for the second time in two months, we dance under a floral canopy to a soft, purring version of Presley’s ‘Can’t Help Falling in Love’.
This time I don’t get a wave of sadness for Aiden, as I did then, when I thought he had given up on love and couldn’t find it.
Now I get chills from the comfort of his arm around my waist, his hard pecs flexing under my hand, and his strong, long fingers wrapping around the other.
I lean into his neck, breathing in his scent, kissing the soft skin above his collar.
“I missed you,” I whisper, blinking away the stinging behind my eyes. His breath hitches, and I pull back to take him in. He blinks at me, tucking his bottom lip in, making the little dimple on the side of his chin pop.
“I was so scared I’d lost you,” he whispers, and lets out a small chuckle, blinking fast. I move my hands to lock behind his neck.
“Aiden,” I say, and the world stands still around us, although the butterflies in my stomach are anything but—they’re raging, in a good way. “I love you.”
He grins and cups my jaw, his eyes scanning my face. “You know those words were for you, then?”
I nod.
“I love you, Linnea.”
“Are you going to kiss me yet?” I say with a laugh, and he plants a kiss on my smiling lips. Hugging him tightly, I kiss my way down his jaw and burrow my face into the crook of his neck, relishing having his strong arms around me again.