Page 42 of Jingle Bell Flock
“Jeremy Price, you were my first kiss and my first love. My first everything that mattered. You’re also my second chance, my coming home, my finally getting it right. I wasted seventeen years trying to move on from you, trying to convince myself that what we had was just teenage infatuation. But it wasn’t. It never was.”
He squeezed my hands.
“I promise to make you carbonara whenever you want it. To let you photograph me even when I’m covered in goat hair and haven’t showered. To build a life with you here, in this town, on our farms. To love you through everything—the good, the bad, and the chaos.” His smile widened. “Forever.”
“Forever,” I agreed.
Charlie was wiping his eyes when he cleared his throat. “And now the exchanging of rings.”
Eli retrieved the basket from Sugarplum’s back and handed the rings to Charlie.
“These rings are symbols of the promises you’re making to one another,” he said, handing Harrison’s ring to me. “Jeremy, repeat after me: With this ring, I thee wed.”
“With this ring, I thee wed.” I slid the simple gold band onto Harrison’s finger.
Charlie handed my ring to Harrison. “And now Harrison, repeat after me: With this ring, I thee wed.”
“With this ring, I thee wed.” Harrison's hands were shaking as he slid the ring onto my finger.
Charlie smiled. “By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you married. You may?—”
I didn’t wait for him to finish. I pulled Harrison to me and kissed him while our friends and family cheered and Sugarplum bleated and someone’s camera flashed.
We were married.
Actually fucking married.
The reception was exactly what we’d wanted—casual, fun, and full of the people we loved.
Colin’s band filled the space with music that ranged from classic rock to current hits. Emmy Alder’s cake was a masterpiece—three tiers with fresh flowers and a tiny fondant goat on top that made everyone laugh. Stella’s beer flowed freely, and Harrison’s cheese spread was so popular that we nearly ran out within the first hour.
We were talking to Bristol, who was gushing about how beautiful the ceremony had been, when I heard my sister shriek.
We turned to see Kringle standing on the cheese table, happily munching on what was left of Harrison’s prized chèvre.
“Is that …” Bristol stared, slack-jawed.
“Cannibalism?” Stella offered, appearing beside us with a beer in hand. “Technically, yes.”
I couldn’t help it. I broke out laughing. Harrison joined in a second later, and both of us doubled over while Jemma and Charlie tried to wrangle the goat away from the table.
“This is perfect,” Harrison said, wiping tears from his eyes. “This is so perfectly us.”
“Yeah, it is.” I pulled him close, kissing his temple. “Husband.”
His face lit up at the word. “Say it again.”
“Husband.”
“I’m never going to get tired of that.”
“Good, because I plan on saying it until we’re old and gray.”
We moved to our table and watched as Jemma and Charlie successfully wrangled Kringle back into his pen, the guests laughing and taking photos of the chaos.
I wondered if this would end up on social media, too.
Eventually, someone—Colin, maybe—called out that it was time for toasts.
