Page 88 of Love at Teamsgiving
I told him that I sold the engagement ring, but I still have it. It still fits. I’ve tried it on twice—on what would’ve been our wedding and our first anniversary.
In so many words, he’s expressed that he still has feelings for me. That we should still get married. My heart melts, leaving a pool right here on the altar as the pastor pronounces the couple husband and wife.
Mikey blinks a few extra times. I’m praying my mascara isn’t running because witnessing the start of a marriage is beautiful.
When he and I link arms to exit the assembly, equal parts longing and certainty fill my mind, guide my steps, and make me sure that the next time we walk down the aisle together, it’ll be as a married couple.
As if reading my mind, when we get to the entryway, Mikey finds my pinky, squeezes, and follows up with a wink.
The reception goes off without a hitch—except I catch the bouquet. Actually, it bonked me in the head. That’s only a problem because I’m already getting married—or maybe my brother asked God to remind me not to be dumb or stubborn and change my mind.
The guests enjoy the meal from Rae of Bite Catering Company and Joey does a great job DJ-ing. The flower arrangements are lush, and thanks to Mama, the favors got here in time.
Even though she and Carlotta held captive my and Mikey’s wedding—which resulted in us deciding we weren’t meant to be together because we’d always side with our respective families—seeing Erica and Shane’s big day through made me realize something. Having so many helping hands is a great blessing, with work and life in general. I would never have been able to pull something like this off without help.
Lesson learned: I don’t have to do everything myself.
Mikey is the only hockey player here and gets loads of attention, but his coach is also in attendance. I learn that Tom Badaszek is Shane’s mother’s cousin, but he doesn’t say a word to the Knights’ star center. How do I know? I haven’t taken my eyes off him all evening—number ninety-four, not the coach.
After the newlywed dance, the bridal party takes to the parquet floor. As ever, I fit right into Mikey’s embrace.
He says, “From the horse-drawn carriage ride to the cutting of the cake, I’d say everything went well.”
I nod, but his comment takes me down a track of thought, reminding me of my brother’s odd visit to the salon right before our ride arrived. But I push it out of my mind because when the tempo changes from a slow song, Mikey and I fall into rhythm and dance until it’s time for the bride and groom to depart.
We’re the last ones at the reception hall as the moon hangs high in the sky. I shiver and Mikey drapes his tux jacket over my shoulders without having to ask. Together, we walk down the sidewalk toward the arbor that leads to the parking lot and pause at the end.
Mikey turns a hazy gaze my way. He skims my outline, head to toe and back up again. “You looked gorgeous last night, but today, you knocked me out.”
“Is that going to be a problem?” I tease.
“Are you asking whether I’ll survive our wedding day?”
I can’t hide my grin. “Wouldn’t want a wedding and a funeral on the same day.”
He glances back at the reception hall, then links his pinky with mine. “I want this. Us.”
I swing our linked pinkie between us and lift my gaze to his. “Me too.”
“Yeah?” he asks.
“Definitely.” I grip the bottom of his untucked shirt and pull him toward me.
His hands glide up the column of my neck before clasping my jaw as he angles my head for what I know is coming.
All the same, I suck in a breath.
His eyes are dark. Filled with want.
“I want you, Junie,” he says before closing the space. Months of unmet longing meet the moment and boomerang through me.
Mikey’s rough stubble tickles my cheeks as we move together. My hands slide along his powerful back, not sure where to land, not wanting this to end.
My pulse accelerates, dancing like we did earlier, exhilarated because this is what I’ve wanted for so long, even when I denied it. The kiss, yes, but him and his commitment.
Mikey breaks the kiss and peppers my neck with his lips. I nestle into him, not wanting to break contact.
I take the opportunity to say, “I am stubbornly in love with you.”
