Page 28 of Breakout
I look to Beckett.
“He needs to be the witness anyway, and we couldn’t ask any of our friends,” he whispers into my ear.
“Good to see you, Mr. Piper.” I clear my throat.
“I’m glad you changed your mind. When I saw you two, I could tell there was something there, so there should be no question as to the validity of the marriage. Why don’t we have a seat?”
As we sit down, our names are called, making me feel like I am going to throw up.
“Are you two ready?” the woman asks.
“Yes,” we say in unison.
She gives us a warm smile. “Do you want to walk down the aisle toward your groom, or would you like to walk in with us? Maybe your father would like to walk you?” She looks to Mr. Piper.
I look up at Beckett. “I never thought about it. What do you think?”
His eyes soften. “Whatever you are more comfortable with. You can walk down toward me, or we can make this walk together.”
Together.
Something about that word hits me, and I realize that I’m really not doing this alone. I’m doing it with him.
“I like the idea of doing this together,” I tell him.
“I’ll go take a seat. I’m only here as their witness,” Mr. Piper tells the woman, letting her lead him into the hall.
“Come on in as soon as you are ready,” she tells us.
“We are really doing this,” I whisper.
“Yes, we are,” he whispers back.
Then he opens the door, taking a step inside.
We watch as the judge takes his place at the front of the room and nods. The music starts up, making me smile. It’s a nice touch. Side by side, Beckett and I walk toward him. With each step, the tension between us grows. When we come to a stop in front of the judge, we turn toward each other.
Everything the judge says I tune out. Not because I’m freaking out or because I’m bored, but because I’m lost in the intense way Beckett is looking at me. Over the time I’ve known him, I’ve seen him stare at me with desire, humor, and frustration.
Never with the intense longing that I see in his face now.
In a way it reminds me of the way Clay looks at Grace, but that can’t be right, could it?
Clay loves Grace. There’s no way Beckett could love me.
He squeezes my hand, and I watch as his Adam’s apple bobs.
“I, Beckett, take you, Peyton, to be my wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and cherish, until death do us part.” The seriousness in which he speaks settles over me like a weighted blanket, offering me a level of peace I didn’t know was possible.
I smile as he slips another paper ring onto my finger.
“Paper rings,” I murmur as I look up at him.
“Don’t worry, I’ll get us both real ones, but I thought these would be fitting for today.” He winks as he reaches into his pocket.
“Let me hold that, dear,” Mr. Piper says, nodding toward my flowers.
Reluctantly, I hand them over and take the homemade ring from Beckett.
