Page 57 of Still The One

Judge Ashford clears his throat gently, bringing us back from our little bubble of love. He hands us our marriage certificate, five signatures and an official seal marking the beginning of our forever.

‘Before you leave,’ Evangeline says, ‘should we take a photo of the two of you to commemorate?’

‘Yes,’ I say, excitedly handing her my phone from my pocket.

Foster stands tall and proud, his arm wrapped around me in a protective embrace. In his hand, our marriage certificate glints with the official seal, a symbol of our commitment. We gaze at the photo on my phone, our smiles wide and our eyes sparkling with love and joy.

‘It’s perfect,’ Foster says.

‘Just like you,’ I agree.

We take a couple more, one with Judge Ashford, and another with the five of us, that I text to Evangeline as she requests so they can share what they did on their anniversary on Facebook.

‘Congratulations, again!’ the trio says when we step out of the judge’s cozy office.

I feel like I’m floating on air as we walk away from the building – married. I turn to Foster, feeling overwhelmed by a rush of emotions.

‘I can’t believe we did it,’ I say, my voice barely above a whisper.

Foster squeezes my hand. ‘It’s real, Jellybean. You are officially my wife.’

I take a deep breath, inhaling the scent of a new chapter in life and Foster’s cologne, committing this moment to memory.

‘Wow. I’m your wife and you’re my husband. Crazy.’

‘We might just be,’ he jokes.

This is the beginning of our happily ever after. As we reach the car, Foster opens the door for me with a flourish. I catch his eye and smile, knowing that this was just the first step of many we would take together. I settle into the seat beside him, lean over and kiss Foster’s cheek, whispering, ‘I love you.’

‘And I love you,’ he replies, his words carrying the weight of a lifetime of devotion.

And as we drive away, our hearts full of love, I know that even though we haven’t been together long, and the journey ahead may be uncertain, as long as we have each other, we can weather any storm that comes our way. Maybe we didn’t iron out the details, but the heart wants what the heart wants. Plus, we have a lifetime to iron out the details.

Now

Blinking my eyes open, I take in the familiar sight of my apartment, feeling a hint of disappointment at the realization that the perfect wedding that I romanticized for far too long was all just a dream – both then and now. The heaviness of that settles in my chest like a stone, a slightly resentful rock.

The light seeps through the curtains, the shadows dancing on the walls, and my alarm beeps incessantly like it’s mocking me for my brief escape from reality. This is not exactly how I pictured I’d feel waking up on my first day back to work after this crazy situation.

Nor did I expect to be going back to work so soon. I got the call from my boss late last night; they’re short-handed. Foster doesn’t even know yet, but I’ve set some alarms in his phone and left him a note.

I drag myself out of bed, the weight of exhaustion clinging to my limbs like a stubborn child refusing to let go. I shuffle into the kitchen, the smell of brewing coffee offering a faint promise of caffeine-induced salvation. As I sip my morning elixir, I can’t help but replay the dream in my mind – it felt so real, so vivid. I get what he’s talking about now – it’s like I was there. Again. How can the memory of his lips linger on mine like a ghostly caress, after a dream? That’s just his supernatural charm, I suppose.

Before I leave I check in on him, peacefully sleeping in my bed. He is gorgeous awake and stunningly beautiful when asleep. The perfect man that every girl talks about but only the rare actually acquire. And he’s not just a pretty face, he’s sweet, and funny, and I have a lot more good memories of him than bad. Looking back, maybe I was just being impatient and homesick when I left. Spoken words probably would have done more good than written ones.

He’s probably dreaming of our worst day, and will wake up hating me, having no idea I just relived the one day I’ve tried thehardest to forget. Quite possibly the happiest day of my life – still.

I sigh, turning away and grabbing my bag to head out the door. Maybe it was just a dream, but the confusion it’s stirred up is real and I’m not sure what to do with that yet.

22

EVE CASSIDY

The aroma of freshly brewed coffee drifts through the halls, mixing with the antiseptic and sterile scents of the hospital.

‘My darling sweet Eve, there you are!’ Adam says, already scribbling my name on a clear cup. ‘I have bad news.’

‘Oh?’

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