Page 198 of Play Along

“Well, if I don’t make sure you eat, who’s going to?”

Her laughter is soft.

“Please, baby. I miss you. Let me just see you.”

She cracks the door open slightly, only enough to allow her freckled hand to slip through the crack—her left hand with her bare ring finger because for the first time in two years, she took her wedding ring off so I could put it back on later today.

I offered to get her something new, something that was strictly hers, something we could add to signify us doing this the right way today, but she only wanted my mom’s ring. And this time when I slip it on her finger, it won’t be as a ploy to save her job, it’ll be as a promise to love her for the rest of my life.

“Hold my hand,” she says from behind the wooden barrier.

I intertwine my fingers with hers, palm to palm, instantly feeling centered with her.

“You’re not supposed to see the bride before the wedding.”

“But—”

“C’mon, baby. Play along.”

I huff a laugh. “You can’t keep saying that to me.”

“And why’s that? It’s been working for me for years.”

“Exactly. That’s the fucking problem, Ken. I’ve never been able to say no. Not before you took my last name and sure as shit not now. It’s something I need to work on.”

“That’s okay. Let’s keep it going that way.”

I squeeze her hand in mine. “I can’t wait to marry you... again.”

She squeezes right back. “I love you.”

“I love you. I’ll see you there?”

“I’ll be the one in white.”

“Wow. Okay, maybe throw out a spoiler alert next time.”

She chuckles. “There won’t be a next time. This one is forever.”

Pulling up to the little chapel we tied the knot the first time feels fucking surreal.

I don’t have many clear memories from that night, and I’m looking forward to changing that this time, but the exterior is so sharp in my mind. Maybe it’s from that picture that was blasted in the Chicago Tribune or maybe it’s a true memory from the night my life changed forever, I’m not sure.

The entire group spills out of rideshares, getting dropped off right out front. My whole team is here, some staying at our house rental, some staying at their own. This preseason bonding trip looks a little different than our typical ones, but I’m thankful to have them all here for our wedding redo.

Kai carries Emmy in her car seat, and Max slips his hand in mine as we make our way inside.

The door handles are two halves of a heart that connect when the door is closed, the entryway has a partially burnt-out neon sign flashing the name of the chapel, and a goddamn Elvis impersonator greets us at the front desk.

It’s perfect.

Monty is already waiting for us inside, going over some notes of things he’s planning to say while he officiates the ceremony as the rest of my teammates and friends find seats, piling into the tiny wooden pews that flank either side of the aisle.

I can’t help but laugh to myself knowing that we chose to get married here, not only once, but twice. But it just feels right. I’m sure growing up, Kennedy assumed she’d have some massive ceremony hosted somewhere like the Plaza in New York City, with her engagement publicly announced in the Times.

Instead, we’re doing it here. In this little run-down chapel with plastic flowers hot-glued to the pulpit for décor. The lighting is fucking awful and the red carpet runner spanning the aisle is tacky as hell.

But I wouldn’t change a thing, especially now that our closest family and friends are here to witness this time.

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