Page 72 of Pregnant in Plaid
"I know." But his jaw is tight.
"She's not going to run."
"I know that too." He takes a breath. "Doesn't stop the small part of my brain that's convinced this is all a dream and I'm going to wake up alone in my cabin."
"It's not a dream."
"Yeah." He finally looks at me. "It's better."
The music shifts—less dying cat, more actual wedding processional—and the doors at the back open.
And there she is.
Patrice.
She's walking in with the other guests, but I barely notice anyone else. She's wearing the emerald green dress she bought yesterday, and it fits her perfectly. The fabric drapes over her pregnant belly in a way that's somehow both elegant and adorable. Her hair is up, her face is glowing, and when she catches me staring, she smiles.
My heart does something stupid and acrobatic in my chest.
I should look away. I should focus on the ceremony. But I can't stop watching her as she finds a seat three rows back, carefully settling herself with one hand on her stomach. She wanted to be the Maid Of Honor, but she couldn’t stand that long.
"You're staring," Gage mutters.
"Shut up."
"You're going to burn a hole through her with your eyes."
"I said shut up."
He grins, and then the music changes again. Everyone stands.
Tessa appears at the back of the chapel, and Gage goes completely still beside me. She's beautiful—simple white dress, flowers in her hair, smile so bright it could power the entire town. She's holding a bouquet and walking toward us like this is the easiest thing she's ever done.
Gage's hand grips the edge of the podium so hard his knuckles go white.
"Breathe," I whisper.
"Right. Breathing. Good idea."
Tessa reaches the front, and the way Gage looks at her makes my throat tight. Like she's the only person in the world. Like he can't quite believe she's real and choosing him and about to become his wife.
The officiant—a kind-looking woman in her sixties who I'm pretty sure also runs the library—smiles at the crowd.
"Please, be seated," she says.
Everyone sits. I stay standing next to Gage, who hasn't taken his eyes off Tessa.
The ceremony is short and sweet. Traditional vows with a few personal touches that make people laugh and cry in equal measure. When Gage says, "I do," his voice is steady and sure. When Tessa says it, she's grinning and crying at the same time.
They exchange rings. They kiss. Everyone cheers.
And I can't stop thinking about permanence.
About choosing someone and being chosen. About standing in front of people you love and promising forever. About building a life together instead of just existing in parallel.
I glance at Patrice. She's wiping her eyes with a tissue, smiling through tears. Her hand rests on her stomach, and even from here I think I can see the baby moving.
That's my kid. Our kid.
