I stopped and looked at Travis, finally getting a chance to take in his gray suit and black Converse sneakers. He smiled when he saw the recognition in my eyes. I took another step, and then another. The officiant gestured for me to slow down, but I couldn’t. My entire body needed to be next to Travis more than it ever had been before. He must have felt the same way. Elvis hadn’t made it halfway before Travis decided to stop waiting and walked toward us. I took his arm.
“Uh . . . I was gonna give ’er away.”
Travis’s mouth pulled to one side. “She was already mine.”
I hugged his arm, and we walked the rest of the way together. The music quieted, and the officiant nodded to both of us.
“Travis . . . Abby.”
Chantilly took my rose bouquet, and then stood to the side.
Our trembling hands were knotted together. We were both so nervous and happy that it was almost impossible to stand still.
Even knowing how much I truly wanted to marry Travis, my hands were trembling. I’m not sure what the officiant said exactly. I can’t remember his face or what he wore, I can only recall his deep nasally voice, his northeastern accent, and Travis’s hands holding mine.
“Look at me, Pidge,” Travis said quietly.
I glanced up at my future husband, getting lost in the sincerity and adoration in his eyes. No one, not even America, had ever looked at me with that much love. The corners of Travis’s mouth turned up, so I must have had the same expression.
As the officiant spoke, Travis’s eyes poured over me, my face, my hair, my dress—he even looked down at my shoes. Then, he leaned over until his lips were just a few inches from my neck, and inhaled.
The officiant paused.
“I wanna remember everything,” Travis said.
The officiant smiled, nodded, and continued.
A flash went off, startling us. Travis glanced behind him, acknowledged the photographer, and then looked at me. We mirrored each other’s cheesy grins. I didn’t care that we must have looked absolutely ridiculous. It was like we were getting ready to jump off the highest high dive into the deepest river that fed into the most magnificent, terrifying waterfall, right onto the best and most fantastic roller coaster in the universe. Times ten.
“True marriage begins well before the wedding day,” the officiant began. “And the efforts of marriage continue well beyond the ceremony’s end. A brief moment in time and the stroke of the pen are all that is needed to create the legal bond of marriage, but it takes a lifetime of love, commitment, forgiveness, and compromise to make marriage durable and everlasting. I think, Travis and Abby, you’ve just shown us what your love is capable of in a tense moment. Your yesterdays were the path that led you to this chapel, and your journey to a future of togetherness becomes a little clearer with each new day.”
Travis leaned his cheek to my temple. I was grateful he wanted to touch me where and whenever he could. If I could have hugged him to me and not disrupted the ceremony, I would have. The officiant’s words began to blur together. A few times, Travis spoke, and I did, too. I slipped Travis’s black ring onto his finger, and he beamed.
“With this ring, I thee wed,” I said, repeating after the officiant.
“Nice choice,” Travis said, admiring his ring.
When it was Travis’s turn, he seemed to have trouble, and then slid two rings onto my finger: my engagement ring, and a simple, gold band.
I wanted to take a moment to appreciate that he’d gotten me an official wedding band, maybe even say so, but I was having an out-of-body experience. The harder I tried to be present, the faster everything seemed to happen.
I thought maybe I should actually listen to the list of things I was promising, but the only voice that made sense was Travis’s. “I damn sure do,” he said with a smile. “And I promise to never enter another fight, drink in excess, gamble, or throw a punch in anger . . . and I’ll never, ever make you cry sad tears again.”
When it was my turn again, I paused. “I just want you to know, before I make my promises, that I’m super stubborn. You already know I’m hard to live with, and you’ve made it clear on dozens of occasions that I drive you crazy. And I’m sure I’ve driven anyone who’s watched these last few months crazy with my indecision and uncertainty. But I want you to know that whatever love is, this has got to be it. We were best friends first, and we tried not to fall in love, and we did anyway. If you’re not with me, it’s not where I want to be. I’m in this. I’m with you. We might be impulsive, and absolutely insane to be standing here at our age, six months after we met.
This whole thing might play out to be a completely wonderful, beautiful disaster, but I want that if it’s with you.”
“Like Johnny and June,” Travis said, his eyes a bit glossed over. “It’s all uphill from here, and I’m going to love every minute of it.”
“Do you—” the officiant began.
“I do,” I said.
“Okay,” he said with a chuckle, “but I have to say it.”
“I’ve heard it once. I don’t need to hear it again,” I said, smiling, never taking my eyes from Travis. He squeezed my hands. We repeated more promises, and then the officiant paused.
“That’s it?” Travis asked.
The officiant smiled. “That’s it. You’re married.”
“Really?” he asked, his eyebrows raised. He looked like a kid on Christmas morning.