“Likewise,” he says, his voice mellow, a dazed smile on his face. In fact, I think he might be high. Like really high. Not that I’m judging. Weed’s been one of my go-to’s when my stomach is in bad shape, so I don’t mind that he’s smoked. I’m just curious how we’re going to get through wedding vows with a guy who’s properly stoned. Should at least add some levity to what suddenly feels like a serious event.
Smiling, Lloyd extends his hand to shake mine, but before he reaches me, Axel’s hand shoots out and grabs mine.
I glance over at him, surprised, and confused. “Ax,” I whisper, “what are you—”
“Let’s get started,” he tells Lloyd, his voice clipped and low.
In juxtaposition to the sharpness of his words, his hand gently slides down mine and intertwines our fingers. I stare down at our hands, braided together. It feels so unexpectedly good. Like sinking into a just-hot-enough bath, relaxation unspooling my limbs.
“Lloyd,” Parker says, “take it away.”
Lloyd nods. “All right. Here we go.” Sighing, he shuts his eyes and opens his hands, arms wide. “Friends, first, let’s take a moment to bask in the magnificent, vibrant energy filling this space. Nature has been good to us.”
“Christ,” Axel mutters, staring up at the sky.
I bite back a smile as I squeeze his hand. His gaze darts to our tangled fingers, and he looks at them the way I did, like he’s not exactly sure how that happened or why it’s happening. I wait for him to pull away, to do what has defined the majority of our interactions, which is to retreat when I get close. Instead, after a moment’s hesitation, his hand softly squeezes mine back.
Bennett moves around, snapping candid shots. I’m no photographer, but with the autumn leaves around us, the soft, diffused sunlight, I can’t imagine they won’t turn out beautifully.
Lloyd’s been talking this whole time, waxing poetic about nature and energy and love bringing life full circle, but I haven’t absorbed it. All I’ve heard is the snap of the camera. All I’ve felt is Axel’s hand, strong and calloused and warm, his fingers knotted with mine.
“And so,” Lloyd says, “embracing the reminder that nature gives us, let’s celebrate this fecund joining—”
Bennett snorts and nearly drops his camera.
“Fecund?” Skyler wrinkles her nose. “What’s that mean?”
“I’ll tell you later,” Parker mutters, tucking her against him and earning her scowl.
“Axel,” Lloyd says, having missed that little exchange, “do you take Rooney to be your wife, your partner and fellow traveler on the journey of life?”
Axel clears his throat, then says in his deep, soft voice, “I do.”
“Rooney,” Lloyd says to me, “do you take Axel to be your husband, your partner and fellow traveler on the journey of life?”
I inhale slowly as nerves jostle my body, working to steady my voice. “I do.”
We make our promises to love and cherish each other, to forsake all others, in sickness and in health, for richer or poorer. First Axel, then me, each word more daunting to say than the last.
Maybe it’s my guilt complex about lying. Maybe it’s my love of truth and facts and right vanquishing wrong, but it’s unsettling, making vows that I know, in one year, I’ll break. By the time I finish, my voice is shaking, as is my body.
And Axel knows. He’s felt every tremor, every wave of tension cresting through me. Because not once has he let go of my hand. Until now, when he gently releases his grip and pulls out the rings that we agreed were wise to wear for the sake of the photos that will be sent to the executor of his uncle’s will.
Handing his ring to Skyler for when I’ll need it, Axel then slides the thin white-gold band down my finger in a slow, steady glide. He begins to let go, then stops and leans in, gently adjusting the ring until it’s just so. I can see in that moment the way he must step back from his paintings, frowning as he examines it, then step in to make it just so.
Gently, Skyler nudges me and offers the ring. I take the wide, matte metal band, then I take Axel’s hand in mine and feel him tense as I slide the ring down his finger, a strange sense of déjà vu rippling down my spine.
I feel Axel’s scrutinizing gaze on me. I hate that I’m like this right now, unable to tuck in all these vulnerable, frayed loose ends beneath the surface of my usual bright smile and upbeat energy. I hate that I look unsteady and that my voice might have sounded unsure when I was really just caught off guard with how intense this felt.
I hope I haven’t offended Axel, that I haven’t made him feel like I’m having second thoughts or regretting this or him or—
Suddenly, his hands are sliding up my neck, cupping my jaw, and—oh, God—his lips are on mine, warm and soft. My head falls back and the shaking in my limbs dissolves. Air rushes into my lungs as I breathe in cool air and warm Axel.
He’s kissing me. He’s kissing me.
Hands limp at my sides, I sway toward him as he steps closer and tips my head to deepen our kiss. His mouth nudges mine gently, as he breathes and our lips meet, hard and slow, a dizzying, patient rhythm. My eyes flutter shut as his fingertips drift down the nape of my neck in soothing strokes, as his thumbs slide along my jaw.
Our mouths don’t open. No tongues or teeth or groaned pleasure. And yet it’s a kiss more powerful than any from my past. It’s a kiss that echoes through my bones and grounds me to the earth. It’s a kiss that calms and soothes and caresses with tenderness.
It’s exactly what I needed.
When Axel pulls away, I feel as dazed as Lloyd sounds when he says, “I was gonna say you can kiss your bride, man, but you beat me to the punch.”
I’m still dazed after the ceremony is deemed complete and Lloyd says his goodbyes, strolling off while lighting up a joint I’d give a lot of money for a hit of right about now.
Axel and I stand close, waiting as Bennett adjusts his camera’s focus to take photos we’ll send as part of our proof of marriage. A perk of the will’s executor living in Sweden, it just requires scanning a handful of documents and a brief email from Axel. After this photo session, my part is done.
“I’m hungry,” Skyler whines. She flops onto the tree stump, hands over her stomach.
“Just a few more photos,” Parker tells her. “Then we’ll have brunch.”
Hunger pains are hitting me, too, and I grimace just as Bennett’s camera clicks. He laughs. “Rooney, the camera loves you, but try to relax.”
“Sorry,” I say weakly.
“Ax, put your arm around her,” Parker calls from behind Bennett.
Axel sighs, then bends his head and drops his voice. “Do you mind?”
His breath whispers over the sensitive skin behind my ear. Goosebumps dance across my skin. “N-no, I don’t mind.”
Carefully, he slips his arm around me, his hand sitting neatly in the notch of my waist, fingertips brushing my ribs. I swallow and take a deep breath.
“How are you?” he asks, looking at Bennett’s camera.
I glance up at him, caught off guard by the care in his question. “I’m okay, I think. You?”