Extra 6 Wedding(6)

Extra 6 Wedding(6)
Cecilia

The moment our eyes met, everything else faded—the flowers, the music, the people seated in those white chairs who I registered distantly as friends and family but couldn't quite focus on.

There was only Arthur, watching me with an expression that made my heart feel like it might burst—love and awe and possessive satisfaction all mixed together in a way that was uniquely him.

Alice squeezed my arm gently, bringing me back to awareness of my surroundings, and I realized people were standing, were applauding, were watching me with smiles and tears of their own as Alice guided me down that petal-strewn aisle.

Each step felt both too fast and too slow—I wanted to run to him, wanted this moment to last forever, wanted to freeze time and also speed it up until I was standing beside him and this was real and permanent and mine.

When we finally reached the altar, Alice released my arm with one final squeeze and stepped back to take her place as maid of honor, and suddenly it was just Arthur and me, standing face to face while the officiant—I registered distantly that it was someone official, maybe a judge—began speaking words I couldn't quite hear over the rushing in my ears.

"Hi," Arthur said softly, just for me, and the single word broke through my shock.

Tears spilled over, hot tracks down my carefully made-up face, and I didn't even care that I was probably ruining the makeup artist's work. "You did all this," I said, my voice breaking on the words. "Arthur, you—how did you—"

"If you hadn't said yes yesterday," he interrupted gently, reaching up to brush away my tears with his thumbs, "it just would have meant I hadn't done enough yet. I was prepared to keep adding to this wedding every single day until you finally agreed."

The words should have been overwhelming, should have felt like too much pressure, but instead they just made me laugh through my tears—because of course Arthur would approach marriage proposals like a military campaign, with contingency plans and escalating tactics until he achieved his objective.

"What if I said," I managed between laughs and tears, "that I want even more now? What if this isn't enough?"

Arthur's smile was absolutely radiant, transforming his usually serious face into something so beautiful it made my chest ache. "Then I'd give you more," he said simply, his voice carrying absolute certainty. "Heaven and earth, Cecilia. For you, I'm capable of anything."

My last defense crumbled completely at those words, at the absolute sincerity in his voice, and I found myself smiling so wide my face hurt.

"I love you," I whispered, not caring that we were supposed to wait for the vows, that there was a specific order to these things. "God, Arthur, I love you so much."

"I love you too," he said, and then the officiant was clearing his throat gently, reminding us that there was actually a ceremony to get through.

The vows passed in a blur—Arthur's voice steady and strong as he promised to love and cherish me, to support my dreams even when they terrified him, to be my partner in all things for the rest of our lives.

When it was my turn, I had to pause to collect myself, to force words past the emotion choking my throat.

"I promise," I finally managed, my hands gripping his so tight I was probably cutting off circulation, "to love you with everything I have. To let you protect me when I need it and to stand beside you when you need me. To be your partner, your equal, your home—for as long as we both live."

The officiant smiled, clearly pleased with our heartfelt if slightly informal vows, and launched into the traditional words about marriage and commitment and the joining of two lives.

"Do you, Arthur Winston, take Cecilia Locke to be your lawfully wedded wife?"

"I do," Arthur said immediately, no hesitation, his eyes never leaving mine.

"And do you, Cecilia Locke, take Arthur Winston to be your lawfully wedded husband?"

"I do," I breathed, the words coming out thick with emotion.

"Then by the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife." The officiant's smile widened. "You may kiss your bride."

Arthur didn't need to be told twice.

His hands came up to cup my face with infinite gentleness, and then he was kissing me—soft and sweet and perfect, the kind of kiss that promised forever, that sealed every promise we'd just made with the press of his lips against mine.

The crowd erupted into applause and cheers, but I barely heard them over the rushing in my ears, over the sound of my own heart pounding with joy and love and the overwhelming certainty that this—this moment, this man, this life we were starting together—was exactly right.

When we finally broke apart, both breathing hard, Arthur rested his forehead against mine and whispered, "Hello, Mrs. Winston."

The name sent a thrill through me that had nothing to do with the kiss and everything to do with the reality of what we'd just done, what we'd just become.

"Hello, Mr. Winston," I whispered back, and then we were both laughing, giddy with happiness and relief and the sheer impossibility of this perfect day.

The rest of the day passed in a haze of joy—more dancing, more champagne, more moments of pure happiness that I knew I'd remember forever.

And when Arthur finally whisked me away from the reception, carrying me through the rose-covered gardens toward the house while our guests cheered and threw more petals, I felt complete in a way I'd never experienced before.

This was it. This was everything I'd ever wanted and more than I'd ever dreamed possible.

Arthur Winston—my impossible, overprotective, absolutely perfect husband—had given me heaven and earth.

And I was going to spend the rest of my life showing him exactly how much that meant.

The End...