Page 73 of Saving His Heart
“Yes, sir,” Preston blurts. Happiness is radiating from him like the sun shining off a lake in summer.
Swallowing, I follow Preston’s lead. “Yes, sir.”
“Great. You have all the paperwork for me?” The judge, an older man with glasses perched on the end of his nose, stares down at us.
Preston shifts uneasily next to me. Turning to him, I see him giving me the side-eye as he hands the judge the papers. Unsure of what’s happening, I look to Ashton, who just gives me a shit-eating grin. He’s trying to mask the sadness of his brother’s diagnosis, and he could easily fool most people, but I’ve seen death and dying too often in my brief career. I recognize the pain he is hiding.
What the hell is Preston doing?
“I understand young Preston here would like to say his own vows, but is just now springing this on his beloved. Is that correct?” the judge asks with a knowing smile. “That’s a bold way to begin your life together, son.”
Everyone in the courtroom chuckles around us, but I barely hear it. My ears are ringing.
“You wrote something?” I hiss.
“I did.” Preston smiles.
“It’s kind of tradition,” Ashton interjects. “Our dad did the same thing.”
My eyes snap to Preston’s, and he shrugs sheepishly.
“You asshat. What the heck am I supposed to say?”
“Yes, Emory. You’re supposed to say yes.”
“Let’s get you two hitched before we have a runaway bride. What do you say?”
Even the damn judge is a comedian?
As the judge goes through the formalities, my ears ring with Preston’s words.“Never have I ever loved anyone more than I love you.”
Holy shit. I’m getting married. My sisters aren’t here. Why aren’t my sisters here? Because it’s not real, Emory. If Preston wasn’t dying, he wouldn’t need to marry you. I feel sick to my stomach. It all runs through my head in the course of three seconds.But he said he loves me?I’m scared to acknowledge that I’m falling in love with him, too, because I think my feelings are real.
Preston’s deep, melodic, soothing voice brings me to the present.
“Emory, do you believe in love at first sight?”
“Ah—”
“Or should I walk by you again?” He can’t say it without cracking a smile. It causes me to laugh away all the anxiety riddling my head. “Some people have that spark, that moment they meet and fall in love instantly. That wasn’t us.” Glancing around at all the people in the small room, he continues. “It wasn’t us because you had a job to do, and I was so sure of a path I had to follow. Some pushy family members, unbeknownst to them, broke that mindset for me in the harshest of ways. It may not have been love at first sight, but it was love at first touch. That moment in your apartment, when I touched you for the first time, I swear God gave me a swift kick in the ass, and I’ve never been able to look at you the same again. I knew then but didn’t want to admit it. You see—”
A single tear falls down his face. Unable to keep my hands to myself, I reach up to wipe it away.
“You see, our story isn’t your typical one. I won’t get to hold your hand as you give birth to our children. I won’t be able to hold your hand on the beach when we’re eighty. We may not get the lifelong love story most couples cherish, but we do have now, and I’ll do everything in my power to give you a life’s worth of love during our time together.
“I will forever be thankful that I am the one who gets to show you what it means to be loved, because from where I stand, you deserve the world. Fifty years from now, when you think of this day, I want you to remember my love for you is real. My heart is beating only for you. No matter your future, I can be at peace, knowing that you have felt my love.
“Never have I ever been happier than I am today. Never have I ever wanted anything more than to be your husband.”
Through my tears, I see him reach for Ashton.
“With this ring, I promise to always watch over you.” Preston slides a ring on my finger, and even through the cloud of emotion, I can see it sparkle.
“B-But I can’t wear this. Everyone will—”
“Shh, sweetheart. It isn’t your turn,” he smiles. Taking my right hand in his, he slides on another ring, this one much smaller. A single band encrusted with pave diamonds. “Until we tell everyone you are Mrs. Westbrook, you’ll wear this one. But, Goldie? As soon as we make an announcement, I want you to wear this ring so I can show everyone you’re mine.” He gives me a wink, and it feels like a knife to my heart. He’s staked his claim. My heart can never belong to anyone else.
“Emory Anne Camden, do you take Preston Michael Westbrook to be your loving husband? To have and to hold until death do you part?”
