Chapter 18
eighteen
. . .
Bennett
I’m standing in front of the mirror adjusting my tie for the fourth time when Jake walks in.
"You're going to strangle yourself if you keep messing with that," he says, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed.
I drop my hands and stare at my reflection. The suit fits perfectly, charcoal gray, crisp white shirt, silver tie that Hannah picked out last week. My hair is combed back, face clean-shaven. I look like I'm about to walk into the most important meeting of my life.
Which, in a way, I am.
"Nervous?" Jake asks.
"No." The word comes out immediately, certain. "Not even a little."
He raises an eyebrow. "Really? Because you've been standing there for ten minutes doing the same thing over and over."
I turn to face him. "I'm not nervous about marrying her. I'm just... making sure everything's perfect."
"It will be." He crosses the room and fixes my tie with practiced efficiency, the way he's done a hundred times before court appearances. "Hannah could show up in sweatpants and you'd still think she was the most beautiful woman in the world."
He's right. I would.
I think about the first time I saw her, really saw her. Six months ago in that coffee shop, latte dripping down my suit, her eyes wide with mortification as she apologized over and over. I should've been furious. I had a meeting in an hour. The suit cost more than most people's monthly rent.
But all I could think was, This woman just changed my life.
I didn't know her name yet. Didn't know she danced in kitchens or named plants Steve or made terrible pancakes. Didn't know she'd fill my house with warmth and laughter and make me feel things I thought I'd forgotten how to feel.
I just knew.
Standing there with coffee soaking through my shirt, watching her ramble and try to clean me up with those tiny napkins, I knew she was the woman I'd been waiting for.
"You're smiling," Jake observes.
"I'm getting married." I meet his eyes. "To the woman I love. Why wouldn't I be smiling?"
He grins, clapping me on the shoulder. "There's the Bennett I know. Come on. It's time."
The venue is perfect.
We chose a small chapel overlooking the lake, the same lake where we had our first date. White chairs line the aisle, flowers everywhere, roses and peonies, Hannah's favorites. Sunlight streams through the tall windows, painting everything gold.
I stand at the altar with Jake beside me, my hands clasped in front of me.
The guests are settling into their seats.
I recognize faces, colleagues from the firm, Hannah's friends from the coffee shop, a few people from the neighborhood. No family on her side. She’s never had that.
Foster homes, temporary places, people who came and went.
Today, the people who chose to stay are the ones filling these chairs.
I also see the women from the office. The ones who gossiped about Hannah at the gala. They're here because they work for me, because it would've been awkward not to invite them. But I notice the way they avoid my eyes, the way they sit stiffly in their seats.
Good. Let them see this. Let them see exactly how wrong they were.
The music starts. Everyone stands.
And then I see her.
Hannah appears at the end of the aisle alone, and the world stops.
She's wearing a simple white dress that fits her perfectly, flowing and elegant without being overdone. Her hair is down in soft waves, a small veil pinned back. She's holding a bouquet of white roses, her hands trembling slightly.
But it's her face that undoes me.
She's smiling. Not the nervous, uncertain smile I've seen so many times before. This is pure joy. Her eyes find mine immediately and hold, and I see everything in that look, love and trust and absolute certainty.
My throat tightens. My eyes burn.
Jake leans over and whispers, "Breathe, man."
I do. Barely.
Hannah walks toward me on her own. Every step feels like forever and no time at all. I can’t look away from her. Can’t think about anything except how lucky I am. How this woman, this incredible, beautiful, stubborn woman who spent years believing she didn’t belong anywhere, chose me.
When she reaches the altar, she places her hand in mine. Her fingers are cold, shaking slightly. I squeeze gently, and she squeezes back.
"Hi," she whispers.
"Hi." My voice comes out rough. "You're beautiful."
"You're not so bad yourself." Her smile widens, tears already gathering in her eyes.
The officiant begins speaking, but I barely hear the words. All I can focus on is Hannah. The way she's looking at me like I hung the moon. The way her thumb traces circles over my knuckles. The way she bites her lip when she's trying not to cry.
"Hannah," the officiant says, "your vows."
She takes a shaky breath and turns to face me fully. "Bennett." Her voice wavers. "Six months ago, I spilled coffee all over you. I thought you were going to yell at me. I thought I'd ruined your day."
A few people laugh softly.
"But you didn't yell," she continues. "You laughed.
And you looked at me like I was someone worth knowing.
Like I mattered." Tears spill down her cheeks now.
"You've spent every day since then showing me that I'm enough.
That I'm worthy of love. That I don't have to be perfect to deserve happiness. "
My own eyes are burning now.
"You've been patient with me when I didn't believe in myself.
You've fought for me when I wanted to run.
You've made me feel safe in a way I never thought possible.
" She squeezes my hands tighter. "I promise to choose you every day.
I promise to trust you with all the messy, imperfect parts of myself.
I promise to build a life with you, not a perfect one, but a real one.
I promise to love you for the rest of my life. "
I can't speak. Can't do anything except stand there with tears streaming down my face, holding her hands like they're the only thing keeping me grounded.
"Bennett," the officiant prompts gently. "Your vows."
I clear my throat, trying to find my voice. "Hannah." Her name comes out thick with emotion. "I need you to know something I've never told anyone."
She blinks, tears still streaming.
"Before you, I thought I had everything figured out.
My career, my life, my future, it was all mapped out, controlled, predictable.
" I pause, searching for the right words.
"And then you walked into my life and showed me I'd been living half-asleep.
You woke something in me I didn't know was dormant. "
Her breath catches.
"You taught me that love isn't about control.
It's about surrender. It's about trusting someone else with the parts of yourself you've spent years protecting.
" My voice cracks slightly. "You've seen me at my worst, frustrated, scared, trying too hard to fix things I couldn't fix, and you loved me anyway.
You didn't ask me to be perfect. You just asked me to be present. "
I brush my thumb over her knuckles, grounding myself.
"I'm terrified," I admit, the words raw and honest. "Terrified that I won't always know how to help you.
Terrified that I'll fail you somehow. Terrified that one day you'll realize you deserved someone who understood you from the beginning instead of someone who had to learn.
" I take a shaky breath. "But I'm more terrified of a life without you in it. "
She's sobbing now, and I'm barely holding it together.
"So I'm making you this promise. I will never stop learning you.
I will never stop showing up, even when I don't have all the answers.
I will hold you when you're scared and celebrate you when you're strong.
I will be the person you can always come home to, not because I'm perfect, but because I'm yours.
" My voice drops to almost a whisper. "You healed something in me I didn't know was broken.
You made me believe in something bigger than myself.
And I will spend the rest of my life proving that you made the right choice when you said yes. "
The officiant smiles. "By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife. Bennett, you may kiss your bride."
I don't wait. I cup Hannah's face in my hands and kiss her, pouring everything I feel into it. She kisses me back just as fiercely, her arms wrapping around my neck. The guests erupt in applause and cheers, but I barely hear them.
All I hear is Hannah's soft laugh against my mouth. All I feel is her in my arms, finally, completely mine.
When we pull apart, she's grinning through her tears. "We did it."
"We did." I press my forehead to hers. "Mrs. Cross."
"That sounds so weird." She laughs again, breathless and joyful. "I love it."
"I love you."
"I love you too."
We walk back down the aisle together, hand in hand, and I've never felt more certain of anything in my life.
The reception is everything Hannah wanted.
String lights hang overhead, casting a warm glow over the outdoor space. Tables are scattered around a dance floor, flowers and candles everywhere. Music plays softly in the background. People are laughing, drinking, celebrating.
Hannah hasn't stopped smiling since we arrived. She's radiant, moving through the crowd with ease, hugging friends and thanking guests. I watch her from across the room, my chest tight with love.
Jake appears beside me with two glasses of champagne. "You're staring."
"I'm admiring my wife." I take the glass without looking away from her. "There's a difference."
"Fair enough." He takes a sip. "She looks happy."
"She is." I finally turn to face him. "Thank you. For everything. For standing up there with me. For being my friend through all of this."
He grins. "Someone had to make sure you didn't screw it up."
I laugh. "True."
"Speech time," he says, nodding toward the microphone being set up. "You ready?"
"You're giving the speech."
"I know. I'm asking if you're ready to hear it."
I narrow my eyes. "Should I be worried?"