Page 109 of Oblivion

“We can talk about it later,” she whines, then pushes out of my hold and to her feet. “But now I have to go and speak to the wedding planner.”

Sighing, I grunt frustratedly. “Fine. But tonight, don’t plan to get any sleep.”

31

SAMMY

Today is my wedding day. I guess I thought that when I got married I’d feel stressed or anxious or something other than the strange calm I’m feeling right now.

My dress is perfect. The girls’ bridesmaid dresses are perfect. My hair is perfect. My makeup is perfect. The flowers are perfect. My mama looks perfect. The tables we had laid out in the backyard for our reception are perfect. The aisle, chairs, and archway of flowers out on the beach are perfect.

Everything is perfect, and even though I feel like I should, there’s literally nothing for me to worry about. My mom and the girls have already headed down to the beach, and my dad is standing right outside the door waiting for me. But instead of feeling any doubt about marrying Evan, I feel utterly calm and ready to start the next chapter in my story.

In a few minutes, I’ll be Samantha Morris. I’ll be Evan’s wife, and I’m not scared, I’m excited. I don’t know how, a month ago, I was considering marrying another man. If it was Drew waiting at the end of the aisle, I know I wouldn’t be this calm. I’d be a mess, wondering how I could run away. But if I’m honest, I know I’d have never let things go that far with Drew. Even without Evan’sintervention, I think I always knew that Drew wasn’t the right man for me and saying yes was a mistake right from the start.

When there’s a knock at the door, I inhale, then pick up my simple bouquet of roses and turn the handle.

“Are you ready?” my dad asks.

I nod. “More than ready.” Stepping out of the room I’ve used as a dressing room, I take my dad’s arm and let him lead me toward my future.

The sand is warm beneath my bare feet. Mama threw a fit when I told her I didn’t want to wear shoes, but I’m glad I didn’t let her sway me. Lifting my chin, I smile at all the faces of the important people in my life who are all here to watch me and Evan get married.

It turns out that the only real friends either me or Evan have are the ones we consider family. So even though the girls are my bridesmaids and the guys all groomsmen, they’re all seated, and the only people standing at the end of the aisle are Evan and the officiant who is going to marry us.

We haven’t bothered with a bride or groom’s side of the aisle, mainly because the only family I have are my parents. So instead, Evan’s dad is sitting beside my mama with Cassidy beside him. The rest of the guests are just the guys’ parents and Starling’s dad, who eagerly accepted the invitation to fly in and see me get married. He and I bonded when Starling went to visit with her dad to prove that Sebastian wasn’t holding her hostage.

When we reach the end of the aisle, I turn to my dad and he leans forward and presses a kiss to my forehead. “Be happy,” he whispers.

“Thank you, Daddy,” I whisper back as he unloops his arm from mine and takes the empty seat beside Mama.

Evan reaches for me the moment my dad lets me go, tugging me forward and holding my hands tightly in his. “You look beautiful,” he says, his gaze both reverent and heated.

When the officiant starts to talk, I zone out, too focused on the man beside me and the fact that even though I dreamed of this, I didn’t think it would ever happen.

“Do you, Evan Harold Morris, take Samantha Elizabeth Hartley to be your lawfully wedding wife?”

“I do,” Evan says, his eyes never wavering from mine.

“Do you, Samantha Elizabeth Hartley, take Evan Harold Morris to be your lawfully wedded husband?”

“I do,” I say, smiling widely.

“I now pronounce you husband and wife. Evan, you may kiss your bride.”

Reeling me into him, Evan curls one arm around my back and uses the other to cup my cheek. “I love you, Mrs. Morris,” he whispers before he leans in and presses his lips to mine.

The world stops. It doesn’t slow or go silent. It simply stops, and the kiss lasts a lifetime but nowhere near long enough. He tells me without a single word that he loves me, owns me, claims me, belongs to me, will live and die, and survive for me, and it’s everything.

It’s everything.

Once the claps and cheers of congratulations have died down, we walk hand in hand down the aisle and toward the house where our house manager and a team of caterers are filling the tables with delicious looking food.

“You’re married,” Starling gushes, hugging first me, then slightly more carefully, Evan.

“I’m married,” I say on a giggle.

“God, we’re both married at nineteen. How did that happen?” she says with a smirk.

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