Page 78 of Screwed (Dad Bod Contracting 4)
She pauses, sniffles, smiles at Jesse, brightly, lovingly, adoringly, and she continues.
“There’s nothing in this world that could make me happier than to be your wife. To share life with you. To be Imogen Catherine O’Neill.” She smiles down at the iPad, at Renée, who snuffles, whines in her tiny baby voice, and then quiets again. “You’ve given me everything—more than everything. I love you more than I know how to say, so I promise to spend every moment of every day for the rest of our lives trying to show that love to you.”
Jesse clears his throat, gruff and hesitant. “Well, shit. How am I supposed to match that?” He glances at the minister. “Sorry. Shoot, I mean.”
The minister just laughs. “I’m here to marry you, not judge you.”
Jesse clears his throat again. “Anyway. Imogen, I’m—you know me, and you know I’m not much for making pretty speeches. I didn’t even write anything down. I just…I figure the best thing is to just tell you what’s in my heart.”
He pauses, closes his eyes for a minute, and then opens them—he’s visibly emotional, but his voice is strong and steady. “You say that I didn’t just fix your window, I fixed your heart. Well, I may be good at building things and fixing things but, until you, I didn’t know the first thing about…” He waves a hand vaguely, hunting for a word to finish the thought. “Life. Love. Anything, really. I didn’t know anything about anything except building houses. You’ve opened my eyes, my heart, and my whole world to things I didn’t know existed.” He looks down at the live stream of Renée, one room over. “I don’t know the first damn thing about being a husband, much less a daddy, but I do know one thing—and that’s that as long as I have you, I can figure it out. With you at my side, Imogen, I can take on the world. I love you more than…more than fu—friggin’ anything I can even imagine, and I’m honored beyond words to be your husband, and to raise this amazing, miraculous, beautiful little girl together with you.”
James slaps him on the shoulder. “Good job, brother.”
The minister smiles again. “Indeed. Beautiful words, both of you.” She turns and glances at Nate. “You have the rings, sweetie?”
Nate nods, his expression serious. “Yes ma’am. Right here.” He lifts the little velvet pillow.
She takes the larger of the rings and hands it to Imogen. “Imogen, echo me, if you would.”
Imogen nods, and places the ring on the tip of Jesse’s finger, but doesn’t slide it down yet, and repeats the minister’s words. “Jesse—this ring is a symbol of my love. It represents the eternal bond, forged in this moment, before these witnesses. This ring represents my vow to love you, cherish you, and honor you all our lives, in sickness and in health, come what may. With this ring, I vow my eternal love for you.”
And then, with a tearful gulp, she slides the ring onto Jesse’s finger. He’s equally moved as he repeats the same vow to Imogen, and places the ring on her finger.
There’s a moment of silence, then, as Jesse and Imogen stare at each other.
“Well?” The minister glances at them both in turn, expectantly. “Don’t wait for me—seal it with a kiss!”
Jesse gently gathers Imogen in his arms and kisses her thoroughly, but delicately, and then, mouths just barely parted, they laugh together.
“And with that scorcher of a kiss,” the minister says, laughing and pretending to fan herself, “I now pronounce you married, in the eyes of the State of Illinois, in the eyes of God, and, most importantly, in the eyes of these, your gathered family. What this marriage has joined, let nothing ever separate.”
There’s applause, then, not just from us in the room, but from the fairly sizable crowd outside—not just hospital staff anymore, but expectant fathers, soon-to-be mothers in wheelchairs grimacing between contractions, doctors, friends, families of other patients.
One of the things that joins all of us as a family is that we’re all each of us has—for a myriad of reasons, we’re all the family any of us has, by choice or by loss. So, to share this, surrounded by our family, the family we’ve chosen? It’s everything.
Imogen gratefully and exhaustedly lowers herself, with Jesse’s help, into the wheelchair, and a nurse excuses herself as she weaves between the crowd to enter the room, carefully carrying a sheet cake—she’s followed by another nurse with paper plates and plastic cutlery.
The celebration that follows is makeshift, occurring in the overcrowded room, barely enough space to move let alone eat cake or mingle, but it’s a joyful one.
It ends when Renée begins to fuss. Imogen gives hugs and kisses to everyone, and then Jesse wheels her to the room next door, so she can feed their daughter. That’s when we all begin to filter out, heading for the elevator as a group.
