Page 102 of One and Only

“You’re definitely in the group,” Josie said easily. “You probably love me the most, don’t you?”

Olive nodded, her eyes earnest and her face serious. “And Micah. He can be up there too.”

We all laughed, and when Greer straightened by my side, I set my hand on the lower part of her back. I leaned in to whisper next to her ear. “Thank you.”

The flower pep talk complete, we said our goodbyes and found a place to sit right next to the aisle, so that Olive would see some friendly faces on her way toward the front.

The rows filled, the music slowly changing into something more grand as the bridesmaids made their way toward where Micah waited nervously. He tugged on the edges of his jacket, smile spreading when the flower girls started their journey.

True to what Greer said, Olive gripped her basket like it was the sole thing keeping her tethered to the ground, and she did not drop a single solitary petal, but she did it—eyes at the front of the church, marching in a straight line without a single moment of being distracted by what was going on around her, and when she turned at the front of the aisle, she gave us a huge, beaming smile.

Sighing in relief, I stretched my arm out along the back of the bench, and Greer took a deep, quiet breath when the tips of my fingers brushed her shoulder.

The ceremony was so different from ours—longer, for one, and far more formal. The front of the church was blooming with white flowers. They stood under an impressive arch covered in vines and lights.

It felt like a real wedding.

And I couldn’t help but wonder what the woman by my side had conceded by doing what we’d done.

If she’d dreamed of a wedding like this someday.

When they said their vows, Greer tangled her hands together in her lap, tightening her fingers until the skin on her knuckles went white.

The simple gold band around her ring finger seemed so loud. So bright.

Most days, I didn’t even really notice it. But with the warmth of her pressed against my side, and the red of her dress pulling my attention back again and again, it was those details that I couldn’t seem to ignore.

After thirty-something days of coexisting with Greer, today was the first time she truly felt like my wife. Today was the first time I felt like I had the right to touch her. Like I was justified in how proud I was to have her by my side.

And I couldn’t even put to words what had changed in my head. I still knew the risk incurred every time I had my hands on her. Every time I allowed myself the luxury to feel the things I wanted, keeping the right and wrong and ever-growing list of consequences firmly planted outside the realm of what this day was.

When the minister pronounced them husband and wife and Micah leaned in to give Josie a lingering kiss, I moved my arm from the back of the bench to clap along with the rest of the crowd. The side of my arm felt cold without her body pressed against it. Greer inhaled slowly, holding it for a few beats before releasing it in a rush.

The reception made it easier to clear my head, and maybe hers too.

We were at a table with one of Josie’s cousins, his wife, and some college friends of Micah’s. The conversation was pleasant, even if Josie’s cousin Connor kept me occupied a bit more than I would’ve liked, given his love of football.

“I think Portland will win their division this year,” Connor said after a fifteen-minute dissection of our offensive line changes over the past two years. “You came within two games last year, so it’s doable.”

I offered a vague smile. “I certainly hope you’re right.”

Greer leaned in closer. “As long as the veteran tight end doesn’t lose any speed this year.” She patted my arm. “Heisthe senior member on the roster.”

The couple laughed, and I turned to give her an incredulous look.

She laughed, setting her hand on top of my leg under the table. My whole body tensed at the casual touch. But with the way her arm was angled to the side, it was obvious she was touching me, and I reminded myself for the hundredth time that this wedding was the biggest show we’d put on for the entirety of our marriage.

Connor’s wife smiled at Greer. “It must be hard to be married to a football player, though,” she said. “Doesn’t everything come second when the season starts? And all the attention. I can’t even imagine what that must be like.”

My eyes cut over to hers, and I waited patiently to see how she’d answer.

Greer’s fingers tightened slightly on my thigh, and I fought the urge to slide my fingers over hers. Instead, I draped my arm over the back of her chair, sitting like we had been inside the church.

“Beckett works a strange job,” she conceded. “But their families don’t come second, just because they’re gone a lot. It may seem like a strange thing to say, but it’s true. For most of them, at least. But because my brothers played, not much about this life is a hard transition for me.”

“Who are your brothers?” Connor asked, eyes bright with interest.

“Erik and Parker Wilder.”

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