Page 132 of Wild Then Wed
“I didn’t grow up dreaming about my wedding day. I didn’t plan out colors or flowers or what kind of cake I’d have. But Ididwonder what it would feel like to stand in front of someone who made me feel…steady. Like home.”
My voice feels too loud in this too quiet room.
“I don’t take promises lightly. And I know better than to expect perfection. There will be days we misunderstand each other. Days we argue. But I promise to stay. To keep showing up. To keep choosing you in the ordinary, quiet, nowhere-special moments that no one else will ever see.”
I feel the nerves start to settle, just a little.
“I promise to tell the truth. To stand next to you when it’s hard and when it’s easy and when it feels like everything else is shifting. I promise to protect the life we build. To protect you.”
There’s a weight to that last sentence that hangs between us.
“And I’ll laugh with you. I’ll argue with you. I’ll do the dishes even when I don’t want to. I’ll hold space for every version of you. I promise to mean what I say, and to say what I mean. And if nothing else, if every plan and promise we’ve ever made falls apart, you’ll still find me here. On your side.”
I look at him again. Really look.
There’s something soft about the way he’s looking back at me. Focused, but not intense. And it undoes me in this small, unbearable way because I don’t know if it’s for me or for the crowd or for the version of us we promised to perform today. But it feels real. It feels like it’s just for me.
His smile is small. Lopsided. Like he’s trying not to smile but gave up halfway through. It feels like something private. Like I’m the only one in this whole venue who gets to see it.
I hand the paper back to Sage, who steps forward just enough to take it and mouths,Good job, before stepping back. My fingers feel awkward now without anything to hold. I smooth them down the front of my dress and remind myself to breathe. In and out. In. Out.
The pastor clears his throat. “Those were beautiful vows, Wren,” he says, nodding toward me. “Sawyer, your turn.”
I don’t know why I hold my breath, but I do.
He reaches into the inside pocket of his jacket and pulls out a folded piece of paper.Thank God.For some reason, the idea of him winging it would’ve unraveled me more than I’m willing to admit.
He unfolds it slowly. Glances at me once, then starts to read.
“I didn’t think I’d be here again. Not because I didn’t want it. But because Idid.And the last time I wanted something this much, I lost it.”
I swallow hard. It’s too quiet in here. He’s too close. And still, he keeps going.
“I’ve spent years trying not to feel anything too deeply. To keep my head down. Be useful. Be the guy who doesn’t ask for anything, so he doesn’t lose anything.”
I glance at him, just for a second.
“And then you walked into my life without asking for anything, either. You just…made it hard not to want more.”
He keeps going.
“You showed up in the middle of a life I wasn’t sure I was still living. You stood in front of a man I wasn’t proud of being and didn’t look away. You challenged me. You calmed me. You made me laugh when I hadn’t remembered how. You saw things in me I forgot were there.”
I breathe in once, slow.
“I don’t know that I believe in fate. Or signs. Or soulmates. Or that things always work out the way they’re supposed to. I’velived too much life to believe in clean edges and happy endings. But I do believe in moments. And I think every moment I didn’t know how to keep going led me to you.”
He doesn’t look nervous. His voice is calm. His words are quiet but full. And I hate that I can’t breathe right now. That my throat feels like it’s closing around every sentence like it’s mine to swallow.
“There’s this thing about wrens—the birds,” he says, and I see his friend grin slightly off to the side, like he knew this was coming. “They mate for life. Did you know that?”
I didn’t.
“They build nests out of anything they can find. Tiny scraps, broken twigs, plastic wrappers, hay. Whatever’s there, whatever’s enough. They make homes out of whatever they’ve got. They’re scrappy like that. And once they pick a mate, they stay. Through storms. Through winters. Through everything.”
The church is silent.
I don’t know how he’s doing this. How he’s saying all this like it’s not cutting straight through me.
