Page 76 of Grump Hard
Then, Willow begins to play her harp, and everyone stands.
And…there she is, stepping out of the tent we set up to keep the bride warm, looking so beautiful, it’s hard to believe she’s real.
As she starts down the dark green velvet runner on her father’s arm behind Candy and Kayla, I forget how to breathe.
Her dress is ivory with faux fur trim at the cuffs and hem. Her dark curls are swept up in a magnificent pile atop her head, dotted with tiny white flowers. She’s absolutely stunning, but it’s the look in her eyes that overwhelms me. She looks every bit as overjoyed to be marrying me as I am to be marrying her.
And I am so grateful that “grateful” isn’t a strong enough word to describe it.
I am…indebted.
I owe this woman my life. I was only half alive before I met her, a grumpy, Grinch of a man with a heart in desperate need of faith and hope.
I tell her as much in our vows.
I tell her that she will always be my light, that I will fight to the death to defend her good heart, and that loving her is the greatest honor any man could hope for.
Then, she spills her beautiful soul into the air in vows so honest and real that by the time she’s through, tears are streaming down my face.
Then Nancy, our officiant, declares us husband and wife, we kiss, the people who love us applaud, and we head back to the mansion to celebrate.
It’s the best night of my life.
And all the proof I need that magic is real—at Christmas and any other time you’re lucky enough to spend with the one you love.
* * *
Nancy Tucker
* * *
A wedding officiant about to
make an indecent proposal…
* * *
The only thing better than a wedding?
A December wedding in a snow-dusted pine grove—flaming torches flickering, fire pits crackling, bright red poinsettias tucked into every bough like ornaments. A chipmunk in a tux.
And me, the smug officiant who just got to declare Holly Jo Hadley and Luke Ratcliffe husband and wife.
The bride: faux-fur trim, curls pinned up with baby’s breath, grinning like she swallowed a constellation. The groom: wool tux, eyes shining, looking like a billionaire who understands that money can’t touch what he’s holding.
I’ve known the Ratcliffes my whole life—Elliot and I have been best friends since we were kids—and still, I’m stunned.
Even a year ago, the “Grouchisaurus Who Hates Christmas” (our private nickname for Luke) moving here full-time and plugging happily into the community would’ve sounded like a fever dream. Now he’s helping Holly into the sleigh for the reception, raising their joined hands while the whole town whoops, and Cheeks does a little victory strut in his tiny tuxedo.
Miracles are real. I’ve just signed paperwork to prove it.
And that, more than just about anything else, gives me hope that what I’m about to do isn’t completely crazy…
As the other guests stream toward the line of sleighs, I hang back in the empty grove. Partly because I promised to stay until the event team finished putting out the fires.
Partly to make a wish alone in the freshly fallen snow…
I close my eyes, cross my fingers, and lift my face to the pink-and-orange-streaked sky as the winter sunset takes hold.
