Page 86 of If the Ring Fits

The comforting weight of Rowena’s hand grounds me as he waxes poetic about the power of love and the beauty of a lifelong commitment. I steal a glance at my radiant bride, she meets my gaze and her rosebud lips curve into a secret smile meant only for me. I’ve no idea how she feels today, and I’m too much of a coward to ask.

“And now, the bride and groom have elected to recite their own vows,” the officiant announces.

Rowena insisted personal vows would make a better impression on my boss. My palms turn clammy as I fumble in my jacket pocket for the folded slip of paper. The earnest words I poured onto the page in the midnight hours are the singular honest thing about this charade of a wedding.

I risk one more glance at Rowena’s beaming face before I begin. “Rowena, from the moment I laid eyes on you, I knew my life was changed.”

A soft murmur ripples through the guests, some nodding as if they witnessed our first meeting—if only they could guess how unglamourous it was.

“You have a way of lighting up a room with your passion and determination. Whether it’s your dedication to making a positive impact on the world through your work, or your fierceloyalty to your friends, you inspire everyone around you. Even when you’re throwing axes better than me—which is both impressive and a little terrifying—I am in awe of your strength and spirit.” Even if our first-date story is completely made up, it still feels like an inside joke. Laughter bubbles up from the audience, a few chuckles escaping louder than intended. Rowena is smiling, but is there also a veil of sadness in her eyes? I can’t be sure, so I continue with my speech.

“I love how you collect fortune cookies but never keep the motivational quotes inside them, only the romantic and funny ones. I adore your zest for life, your love for the simple things—tacos, a good book, making popcorn on movie night.” The bridesmaids exchange knowing smiles, Hunter dabbing at her eyes with tissues even if she’s supposedly aware this isn’t real. “Your attention to ensure inclusivity for children with disabilities in your new project is just an example of your boundless compassion. It’s one of the many reasons I’m proud to stand by your side. Everyone who knows you loves you, and the loyalty of your friends is a testament to the wonderful person you are.” A collective hum of agreement resonates from the rows behind us.

“And you do all this while also growing a tiny human inside of you. This baby is already the luckiest in the world because they have you as a mom.” Rowena’s hand instinctively goes to her bump.

“You make every day a discovery and make me excited to wake up and explore what lies ahead for us. I thank you for that. And vow to do my best to deserve it, to deserveyou. I promise to always be there for you, whether we’re navigating life’s challenges or simply enjoying a quiet moment. I vow to support you in all your endeavors, to stand by you in times of joy and sorrow, and to cherish the time we share.

“I want to grow old with you. And if you’ll let me, I promise to love you, to laugh with you, and to comfort you for all the years to come. I will always be your biggest fan and your partner in everything. Thank you for being my sunshine and for showing me what true love is.”

I gaze into Rowena’s eyes as I finish my wedding vows, after pouring my heart into every word. But as I utter the last promise, I notice something off in her expression. Tears stream down her face, but they don’t seem to be purely tears of joy. A swirl of emotions dances in her irises that I can’t quite decipher.

For a suspended beat no one seems to even breathe, only a few sniffles are audible from the first rows.

Then the minister turns to Rowena. “And now your vows.”

She parts her lips but no words come out. Her mouth works but she can’t seem to form a coherent sentence. After a moment, Rowena shifts her attention to the gathered crowd with a bright smile plastered on her face. But I know her too well—she’s hiding something beneath that grin.

“S-sorry everyone,” Rowena says, gasping as if she’s trying hard not to sob. “Already it’s h-hard for brides not to cry at their weddings. But it’s downright impossible when you’re pregnant and the victim of raging hormones!”

The crowd lets out a collective “aww” of understanding. But I’m not fooled. I can tell she’s masking her true feelings with humor. A sinking sensation grips my gut. Something is wrong, very wrong. What happened? Was it something I said? Something I did?

Rowena turns back to me, her smile faltering. She tries to speak again but stammers anxiously over the words. “I… I had an entire speech prepared, but…” She trails off and shakes her head, once more overcome with emotion. Her pleading eyes meet mine, silently begging for help.

My heart constricts with worry but I force a lighthearted grin onto my face. I don’t want to make a scene in front of all the guests. “It’s okay, Sunshine,” I say soothingly. “I know you love me. You always let me have the last slice of pizza. I don’t need a speech.”

The tension breaks as the crowd erupts into cheers and laughter. The ceremony continues, and, with shaking hands, Rowena and I exchange rings. And then in a blink, we’re married. Husband and wife… so why does it feel like I’m losing her?

Throughout the reception, I plaster on a smile and try to play the part of the blissful groom. But inside, my stomach churns with unease as I watch Rowena flit between guests, her laughter ringing just a bit too loud, her grin stretching a little too wide.

I maneuver through the crowd, dodging well-wishers and attempting to catch my new bride alone. But there’s always something or someone standing in my way.

Even when we do our first dance and are the only ones on the dancefloor, she barely meets my eyes and refuses to speak a word.

The rest of the night passes in an anxious blur. I go through the motions—cutting the cake, thanking everyone for coming. But always tracking her. Finally, the last guests depart. She walks her parents out; they have an early flight back tomorrow. And I follow her. Now we can go home and figure this out.

I walk out just as the car driving her parents takes off. Rowena is standing on the curb, in her wedding dress and fancy hair updo, her back to me.

“Hey,” I call out.

Her shoulders immediately go rigid, and her expression when she turns chills my bones.

“I’m going to head home with Nina and Hunter tonight,” she says, not quite meeting my gaze.

“Why?”

“I just need space to clear my head.”

“Space?” I gape. “From what? Whatever’s going on, let me help. Please don’t shut me out.” I reach for her hand but she pulls away.

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