Page 133 of Babies for the Christmas Grump
I blink at her, taking in the reflection in the mirror.
Holy crap.
The woman looking back at me is glowing, not from the pregnancy, not from the sweat, but from something else.Something that’s not about feeling overwhelmed or unsure, but about being seen, and loved, and ready.
I almost don’t recognize myself.
“I can’t believe this,” I breathe, a grin spreading across my face. “Thank you.”
“Now, let’s get you to your wedding,” Marjorie says, putting her hands on my shoulders. “You’re going to knock him out when he sees you.”
“Right,” I say, feeling a surge of excitement. “Let’s do this.”
By the time we reach the ceremony, I can almost pretend I’m not still slightly freaking out on the inside.
Almost.
But as I walk down the aisle, everything falls away. The heat. The tightness of the dress. The overwhelming anticipation of being seen.
There’s only Ryder. His eyes are locked on me, and I see a flicker of surprise when he takes me all in. This woman he’s marrying, with her crazy curls, her flushed cheeks, her too-tight dress, and her slightly too-big belly.
He doesn’t care about any of it. He only cares about me. The woman standing in front of him, ready to start this wild, messy, beautiful life together.
When it’s time to exchange vows, I take a deep breath, trying to focus on the moment instead of my racing heart.
“Ryder,” I begin, shaking just a little, “when I first met you, I thought you were just some grumpy, silver-fox businessman who didn’t have time for anyone. But then I got to know you, and I saw all the layers. The real you. And that person… well, I don’t know what I did to deserve you, but I’m not letting you go.”
His eyes soften, and his lips twitch upward, but he doesn’t break his gaze.
“I vow to love you through everything. Through the madness, through the moments where we’re both struggling to breathe.I vow to be your partner, your equal, and the woman who will always stand beside you. And I vow to give you my heart, fully and completely, because I know you’ll cherish it like no one else could.”
Ryder takes a deep breath. “Sunny,” he says, and I can hear everything he’s feeling in just my name. “You’ve changed my life in ways I never thought possible. I didn’t think I had the capacity for this. For real, true love. But with you? I would move mountains. I would give you anything. And I promise, in this life and the next, I will love you in every way that matters.”
The officiant smiles at us both. “By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife. Ryder, you may kiss your bride.”
And Ryder does. His kiss is everything I could ever want. Full of promise, full of love, full of everything that we’ve built together.
The crowd cheers, but I’m lost in him. In this moment. In us.
The rest of the world fades away, and all that matters is that this crazy, beautiful, chaotic ride we’re on is just beginning.
The reception was a blur of sparkles and laughter, and now, I’m here. In a gleaming, newly decorated suite at The Garland Rose, one that looks like it came straight out of a Pinterest board for “luxury romance on a budget.”
The whole place smells of roses and vanilla, and there’s a soft hum of music in the background. The space looks magical —not in the “oh, it’s too perfect” way, but in the “this is where dreams come true, so it must be real” way.
“So,” I say, lifting an eyebrow, “how do we like the decor? Does it say ‘newlywed bliss,’ or more like ‘help me, I’m about to pass out from champagne and the two-inch waist of my dress’?”
He gives me a slow grin, but I can see the humor in his eyes, the way he’s trying to hold back a laugh. “You look perfect, Sunny. Even if you did nearly kill someone on the dance floor with that dress.”
I gasp, pointing a finger at him. “That was one incident. I almost slipped on my own heels!”
He laughs, but his eyes soften. “Even if you did, I wouldn’t have minded. But I’m happy to report that you didn’t take anyone down with you.”
He gives me that look. The look that makes my heart do flip-flops.
I can feel the heat of our wedding night finally starting to sink in. The moment. The “this is real” feeling that hits you when you realize you’re standing next to the person you’ve promised to spend forever with.
“You know,” I say, trying to sound casual even though the butterflies in my stomach are on a rollercoaster, “I think we deserve to celebrate. Really celebrate.”
