Epilogue #3
He looked at the page long enough that I heard the rain begin moving through the downspout outside.
Ryder had faced Bear’s table, Silas’s men, a recorded interrogation, and months of my hatred with more control than he had in that empty room.
His eyes filled before he blinked, and the hand he finally put on the table missed the photograph by an inch. “You don’t owe me another wedding.”
I took his right hand and turned it over, following the scar that crossed his knuckle from a fight he won before our first fundraiser.
“I know what I owe you, and this isn’t it.
The first time I married you, I thought you could never use what you knew about me to hurt me.
You did, and I will never make that smaller so we can have a prettier anniversary.
I also know the man who brought the photograph into my kitchen, went back to the bunkhouse after I forgave him, signed a paper that could lock him out, and asked before he promised Bear one fucking pastry.
I choose that man with everything I know now. I choose you again.”
Ryder bowed his head over our joined hands, and the first tear struck the ink beneath our names before he laughed at himself and wiped it with the heel of his free hand.
“You’re going to make Mia charge us for a clean copy.
” He breathed through the next attempt to speak, lifted his face, and let me see all of it.
“I don’t want a new wedding date. I want the one I nearly destroyed and every year you let me keep after it. ”
I moved closer until his boots bracketed mine and put the page between us on the table.
“Then say what you promise now. Not what you promised when neither of us knew what you were capable of.” My voice caught on the last part, and I left the break in it.
A vow that required me to sound healed would be another performance, and Ryder had heard enough rehearsed words for one marriage.
He closed both hands around mine without pulling me nearer.
“I won’t lie to you to make you do what I want.
I won’t use your lungs, your love, my cut, or any danger outside our door to take your answer away.
I’ll tell you what I know, tell you what scares me, and ask what you want before I move anything that belongs to you.
I’ll argue when I think you’re wrong. I’ll listen when you tell me no.
I’ll be your husband without making your whole life mine, and if I ever break this marriage the way I did before, you use every fucking lock you paid for.
” His thumb moved over my ring, not taking it off or turning it, only touching the proof that I had put it there myself.
“I choose you, Eden. I choose the marriage you made me earn.”
I held his gaze and gave him vows that belonged to the woman I was now.
“I won’t promise Jess never comes back into a room with us.
I promise I’ll tell you when she does instead of hurting alone until I can use it against you.
I won’t make you suffer after I know you understand, and I won’t pretend I’m done being angry when I’m not.
I’ll fight with you about the bakery, the club, the house, your boots, my hours, and every road you think you understand better than I do.
I’ll let you tell me when I’m fighting dirty.
I’ll love you without handing you my choices, and I’ll keep choosing this marriage while you keep bringing me the truth.
” I put his hand against my face, leaned into it because I wanted the touch, and felt his fingers shake. “I choose you, Ryder.”
There was nobody there to announce us married.
We already were. Bear did not stand at the end of the room, Mia did not bill us for witnessing it, and the club did not get a vote.
Ryder waited until I pulled him down before he kissed me, and when his arms closed around me, I could feel the years between the porch and that room without needing any of them erased.
He kissed like the man from my first kitchen and held me like the man who had gone back to the bunkhouse when I told him forgiveness was not a key.
Both men belonged to him. I knew which one he had chosen to keep.
We signed beneath the vows and left the page upstairs beside the wedding photograph until the ink dried.
Ryder carried the chessboard to the truck with my permission, level in both hands so none of the pieces moved, and I locked the Copper Kettle behind us.
The rain had stopped. Water ran clean through the repaired downspout, the restored windows reflected the Copper Kettle’s gold letters, and Ryder waited at the passenger side until I told him I wanted him to drive.
At home, I moved my queen before taking off my shoes and trapped Ryder’s king beside the bedroom window.
He studied the board until I turned, then put his hands on my waist after I reached for him.
It was his move, but he kissed my ring and followed me toward our bed, leaving every piece where I had put it.
The game would be there in the morning, and so would we.