Page 74 of Stick Work

I tug at it again, twisting back and forth, but it refuses to budge. “I can’t get it off.”

Elias watches me struggle, his brow pulling together, and I’m not sure I’ve ever seen him look so hopeless…vulnerable. Is this about the toy ring?

Rip nods. “We can just pretend Elias is putting it on you.”

Pretend. Of course. That’s what this is. A ridiculous tangled mess we’ve created. A sham wedding for a sham love story. I plaster on a smile. “Perfect.”

Grandma, however, has other plans. She quickly tugs her own ring off and holds it out. “You can use mine.”

My chest tightens, knowing the story behind it, and the fact that Grandma would give it to me, even for a pretend wedding.

“Grandma, no,” I protest, and hold my palms up. “I don’t want to be responsible for your ring. I can’t even get this one off.”

“Phooey,” she huffs at my objection. “Just use this, Elias.”

For a moment he hesitates and glances at me. His eyes search mine. But for what? Is he seeking permission? Or…something else?

Is it possible that what we’re doing here isn’t meaningless to him, either?

That can’t be right.

“Just…take it,” I finally say, my stomach in knots. He takes the ring and closes his fingers around it. “What about Elias, does he need one?” Ah, maybe that’s our ticket out of this.

“No, only the bride.”

Lord, I just can’t catch a break.

Rip starts speaking, his voice steady, unexpectedly sure. At first, I brace for something awkward, loud, or obnoxiously over-the-top, but as his words flow, talking about love, respect, and compromise, they’re very real and powerful—like he actually believes in what he’s saying, and I might too. His poignant words settle around me, pressing into hollowed out places that long to be fulfilled. How did I not know I was so empty?

My throat tightens. I don’t look at Elias. I can’t. If I do, he might see something in me, some deeper need I didn’t know existed until him. But I feel him there, his presence solid, steady, an anchor on this crazy night, and for a quick second I think…what if?

Rip glances at Elias. “You can now put the ring on her finger.”

I exhale and hand Grandma the flowers, catching the way her eyes are shining with something that looks like real happiness. My heart aches at the sight.

Turning back to Elias, I lift my hand. The small diamond glimmers in the overhead light as he slides the ring on. His fingers brush mine, lingering longer than they should. The ring sticks at my knuckle, and he wiggles it gently.

I almost laugh when he finally gets it on. “I think this one is smaller than the toy,” I whisper.

Elias smirks, just a little, but there’s something else in his eyes, something soft and quiet and my breath catches.

“You may now kiss the bride.”

And just like that, the air changes.

Elias stills.

I still

My heart pounds against my ribs, frantic, like this is actually real. But it’s not. It’s fake. A game. A performance. Which means, we don’t really have to do it. That might be a good thing, considering how emotional I am at the moment. But that thought is short-lived based on Elias’s steady gaze, and the way he’s leaning into me.

Even though we’ve kissed numerous times, my breath catches as he cups my cheek gently, his calloused hands a contrast to the tenderness in his touch. When he slides one hand behind my back to anchor me to him, it’s not the rough, take-charge kind of kiss that I’ve come to appreciate. No, this one is soft, unhurried, and incredibly sweet. His thumb brushes my cheek and the room around us fades, leaving just the two of us under the arbor.

Rip clears his throat and steps back from the arbor, and Grandma’s sigh clears my brain. “That was beautiful,” she whispers as she hands the flowers back to me, and I can’t help but think she’s right.

“We have to make it official,” Rip says with a smile, motioning us toward the small table where the marriage license lies open.

Official. Okay. Sure. I almost laugh, but none of this is funny.

---