Page 84 of I Love a Good Challenge

Now, everyone is a wreck. Sniffling can be heard throughout the stone church, which is covered in flowers and candlelight. Looking around through clouded vision, I see the shiny evidence of tears on faces all over the room.

I’m choking thinking of how Sparrow’s dad would have gleamed with pride watching this—so proud of them both. The bride and groom have both experienced heartache. They knew what was at stake when they fully committed to loving each other. And they both chose each other above all the doubts and fears.

I lift my eyes to look at Graham. His eyes are still brimming with tears, a blink away from falling. If I was close enough, I would catch them when they do.

Sparrow and Rafe exchange their rings while my mind starts to race. Hungrily, I take in the sight of Graham in his suit, his posture perfect, his intensity devastating. I suck in a breath, watching as he pulls something from his pocket and slowly adds it to the boutonniere on his jacket lapel. It’s a tiny bunch of chamomile flowers.

Like a veil lifting, I see our future all so clearly. I see myself in a white gown with black trim. Graham is in a suit. (Well, he’s almost always in a suit, but a suit on his wedding day? Unprecedented.) I picture nights by the fire, his fingers weaving through my hair. I imagine bowls of soup and babies in our arms. I envision card games and chocolate cake clinging to our lips and our memories. I picture fighting and then making up in ways that cause my bones to ache with need.

When it comes to the rest of our lives? I want all of this with him. The truth, even when I couldn’t see it, is that I’ve wanted this with him all along. And this time, I’m not going to let myself get in the way.

“You may now kiss the bride!” Pastor Wilfred yells, and the church erupts with applause and shouts, the loudest cheers being from Gladys, Ivy, and Grey. I can hear their joy as they celebrate from the front row.

Rafe holds Sparrow like she hung the moon, and their kiss is anything but PG. I almost expect the pastor to need to step in, but he’s forced his attention to the ceiling. He looks back toward the happy couple in time to see Rafe holding Sparrow so closely that it’s like they’ve become one heart. I’ve never seen anyone hold someone like they hold each other—as if they’re holding on for dear life while also completely content to never let go. My eyes travel again to Graham. He is clapping and giving some sort of whooping sound that surprises me, coming from his smiling mouth.

When the newlyweds release each other enough to face the back of the church, I hold out the bridal bouquet to Sparrow. Her eyes are loaded with a reflection of so much history and friendship between us. Tears threaten to pour from my eyes again, but I hold them back, nodding to let her know that it’s okay. I give her a shooing motion with my head and watch as the newly married couple hustle down the aisle. All the way, Rafe’s arm is up in the air like he’s on top of the world. And I know he truly is.

I’m watching their exit, but I catch Graham’s arm reaching for me from the corner of my eye. His suit creases at his elbow, his arm extended, waiting for me to take it. I look up at him and feel in every way that this moment could’ve been ours. I believe it still can be. I know if Cricket is catching any of this on camera, what she will capture is the longing I feel for this to be permanent.

“Go on, you two,” Pastor Wilfred encourages.

I face the back of the church and try to figure out how I can kiss Graham before we make it down the aisle. When we burst through the exit into the spring air, whose warmth swirls around us with a hint of dusk at the edges, I’m ready for my own forever to begin. In the evening glow, I can feel winter finally relenting, and it feels like love would whisper for us to wake up from the ground covered by frost.

With the newlyweds on the move toward their car, we follow. We’ll be heading to Wicked Good Farms to get some pictures before everyone arrives for the reception at the big white barn. The next few hours will be glorious. Still, I know that all night, I’ll be holding my heart up with a string still in knots over Graham.

∞∞∞

Graham hasn’t stopped staring at me. During every photo, whether we are in the shot or not, his intensity breaks my concentration. After my little revelation in church, I’m struggling to maintain my composure.

It was a gorgeous wedding, a beautiful and perfect wedding. But I’d be lying to myself if I didn’t admit how much I long to be alone with Graham for a few minutes to show him how much I love him. Finally, at the end of what feels like a thousand clicks of the camera and enough photos taken of us that I’m going to make one of those photo books to ensure I can hold onto all of them, it’s time to get ready for the reception.

Sparrow and Rafe huddle close to each other, whispering things that—if I heard them—I probably would need to have my ears cleaned out or extensive therapy to recover from. I feel the countdown clock ticking in my bones. They wander along the path, the distance between us growing. I’m left with no choice. I decide to make a move that I know I won’t regret.

“Okay, you! I need to talk to you now.” I’m a woman on a mission, and I can’t linger here another moment without laying all our cards out on the table. “I love you, Graham.”

He blinks, giving no other expression or emotion. He merely stands on the path . . . blinking.

“And I know people say all this stuff about love and blah, blah, blah,” I continue. Of course I’m using words that aren’t words to express my love for him on my best friend’s wedding day, of all days. “You’re my favorite. I did a terrible job of showing you that.”

Graham still hasn’t moved. If not for the rise and fall of his chest under his suit and the steady blinking, I would think we lost him about thirty seconds ago.

“Fine, you want me to keep going?” I ramble. “When I stood at the altar in church, watching our two best friends declare their love for each other to the world, I saw it. You. Me. Babies. Are you scared yet? Because you should be. Because I’m scared. I’m so scared. Last night and that little display of yours this morning knocked some sense into me, you know? And so did the sight of you in that suit, because . . . wow. But that’s for another time.” I inhale, trying to catch my breath from the heady rush of words.

“The point is that you’re worth everything, Graham. You’ve always been worth everything. Every doubt and every fear is soothed by your presence. I’m so sorry that you ever had cause to doubt that.”

At this point, tears are streaming down my face unbridled. I know my makeup has been shot to sticky streaks. As evidence, I glance down to see a concealer and mascara-tinged droplet stain on the bodice of my dress. I’m going to have to do serious damage control before we enter the barn for the reception.

“And you were right,” I whisper. “You’re not the Wickham of this story. You never were. That is who I meant, by the way, when we met in the movie theater. The truth is, you’re the Darcy of it all. You make me want to go on those adventures we talked about. I think my heart knew it didn’t want to go without you. You make me want to tell my mind to stop warring against what I want. Because you’re all that I want.”

A pulsing suddenly begins to move through his jaw. I can see the evidence of my words sinking in. His hands clench and unclench. His weight shifts, like he wants to move closer, but something is still holding him back. Finally, his throat clears.

“Lily, I’m only going to ask this one time,” he says, his voice gravelly and delicious. “I thought we said what we needed to say last night. I was giving you time to be sure. But this—what you’re saying . . . I need it confirmed. You know how my mind works.”

I have a suspicion that what he’s about to ask me is going to change the trajectory of my life and our lives if my wishes are answered. I take a deep breath and nod, using the back of my hand to dab at the tears streaking my face.

“What do you want?”

“I want you to fight with me,” I urge.

---