Page 33 of Shameless
The limo stopped.
Miley took my hand as we started to get out and said, “We’re here. Last chance to run.”
My heart thumped, and I shook my head. “I’m not running anywhere except to Michael.”
I sometimes wished we were more than what we were, especially when I turned up the marble stairs to head to the second floor and saw him standing there. His tall, lean-but-all-muscles form captured my attention, along with his patrician jawline and blue eyes that bore into my soul.
The more I stared, the quieter everything became. My friends’ sounds disappeared more and more entirely with every step.
Once I reached him, he took my hand and said, “You look gorgeous, darling.”
My heart pounded, and heat rose in my face. “Thank you. We stopped to get flowers.”
He gazed at my hand, and a smile grew on my face as he offered his arm. I noticed his friends had all found seats with mine near the front.
Michael focused entirely on me. “Good call. We’re next if everyone’s ready.”
He made me feel wanted.
I took his arm and nodded. “We are.”
The officiant summoned us by name, and we walked in. I handed over my driver’s license, and my friends took their seats. Then I held hands with Michael.
Once the official had marked all the documents, he said, “Do you, Britney Carlyle?—”
“Smith,” I interrupted.
He checked my license and asked, “Smith?”
“Use my birth name, not my legally changed name for the ceremony,” I said quickly. With Michael, I wanted to keep the lies to a minimum.
He nodded, and I turned toward Michael.
The official asked, “Do you, Britney Smith, take Michael Fuller as your lawfully wedded husband? In sickness and in health for as long as you both live?”
“I do,” I said, wondering how in the world I was standing next to him.
The judge then asked him, “Do you, Michael Fuller, take Britney Smith as your lawfully wedded wife, in sickness and in health for as long as you both live?”
“I will.”
I stared at him quizzically but recalled the royal wedding clips I’d seen had the royals using the future tense.
The official hadn’t blinked and said, “Then by the powers invested in me by the state of New York, I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss your bride.”
Michael stared at me, and past his face, the rest of the world was fuzzy. I took a deep breath.
When he didn’t move, I tugged on his elbow and said, “So kiss me already.”
Then his lips met mine. And I forgot everything. I’d longed for more of him, and now we were official. We were married, and as the kiss ended, I decided to enjoy every single moment I could from then on.
I brushed my face so that no one would see my tears and started, “I…”
Michael said, “It’s okay to cry, Britney.”
“It’s hormones,” I said and pressed my face into his shoulder.
The rule I’d made about no more sex was stupid. I’d let fear rule me.
