More Than Us (8 page)

With anticipation in my lungs, I ask, “Will you marry me—right now?”

Evelyn

No thinking is needed. Last night’s horrid events don’t matter in the overall scheme of things. What does matter is my bond with Foster, the simple connection that we have outside of all other elements.

“Yes,” I blurt out. “Forever can’t come fast enough.”

Foster tightens his grip with mine. “Close your eyes, and count to one hundred.”

“And then what?”

“Forever is just a moment away.”

THIRTEEN

Evelyn

Sixty-six.

Sixty-seven.

Sixty-eight.

“Are you ready?” Wolfgang asks.

Slowly, I lower my palms from my face, blinking at my friend above me.

He assists me up from the ground and dusts the debris from my white sundress while humming the “Wedding March.”

“Where’s Foster?” I question, scanning the area.

“Somebody has to walk you down the aisle.”

Wolfgang offers me his arm, and I loop mine through it. He leads me along a small path toward the seaside cliff. When we reach the edge of the trail that opens up to a span of grass overlooking the ocean, my eyes wander from left to right, landing on Foster, a tall and handsome silhouette against the pale backdrop created by the morning sun.

“Here,” says Wolfgang, retrieving a bouquet of white flowers from the ground.

Taking it, I ask, “Where did you…”

“It was all Foster.” He shoulders me. “C’mon. Let’s get you hitched before you two get into any more trouble.”

“Thank you, Wolfie.” I kiss his cheek.

Without another word, he leads me down those final steps until I’m face-to-face with my soon-to-be husband. A sense of wholeness, relief, and pure bliss taps through every cell in my body, and every bit of anxiety over the past twelve hours fades away.

Foster’s a man who loves me for everything I am, like no one else ever could. He’s a man who was somehow designed for me in a package I wouldn’t have known how to wrap because love isn’t a defined formula or recipe found in a book. Love is something different for each and every person, and when two people come together, it’s found within their unique chemistry.

“Hello,” Foster says.

His simple word is the catalyst for all the wonderment to come.

Foster

My Evelyn.

She’s mine—all her beauty and all her flaws, her erratic mind and her crazy-ass mouth.

In this world, there is so much more than us, a place filled with complications and distractions, but in this moment, there is only us.

The officiant slated to perform our ceremony at sunset greets my soon-to-be wife.

When I called down to the front desk, the staff was able to track him down and convince him to conduct an earlier ceremony for us—in private and in secret. It never hurts to ask.

Addressing both of us, the officiant says, “It is my understanding that there will be no rings at this ceremony; therefore, I will be conducting a blessing of the hands. I ask you to turn to one another and join your hands as a symbol of the union you will be making here today.”

Evelyn gives her bouquet to Wolfgang and places her talented and loving hands into mine. I gaze into her clear blue eyes, no longer a mystery of creativity. It’s the place I call home and the place our souls connect. One look from her, and my life makes sense. There are no questions, worries, or doubts. Only her.

“Think about the hands you are holding,” the officiant instructs.

We focus on the place where our palms are joined.

“These are the hands of your best friend, holding your hands on your wedding day, promising to love and work together for a future you will build as one. These are the hands that will give you strength when you need it, tenderness when you crave it, and love at all times. These are the hands that will wipe your tears, the ones of sorrow and those of joy. These are the hands that will hold all that you love. Years from now, these hands will be searching for yours, seeking love, encouragement, and friendship. The same as you do today.”

Evelyn sniffs, and I wipe away a tear from her face, as I will do for many years from now. She leans into my hand, and I extend my love to her, as I will do far into our future. The woman I love presses her fingertips to my mouth, her hand expressing to me that she is close, just as she will be decades beyond this day.

We then say our vows to one another, promising to be no one other than ourselves, to love what we know of each other, and to trust what we are still discovering about the other person, to respect one another, and to have faith in our love for all of our years and in all that life might have in store for us. We agree to accept each other’s strengths and weaknesses, and we openly choose to spend the rest of our lives together.

“Evelyn and Foster,” the officiant announces, “you have expressed your love to each other through the commitment and promises you have just made. It is with these in mind that I pronounce you husband and wife.”

I step closer to Evelyn, savoring the magical words that indicate we are now bonded in matrimony.

“No longer simply partners and best friends,” he continues, “you are husband and wife.”

Looking to the officiant, I wait for those final words.

“You may kiss the bride,” he finally adds.

I wrap my arm around the waist of my wife and pull her into me. “This is my promise of forever.”

Sealing my mouth to hers, I vow to love her—all of her and only her—forever and ever, plus infinity.

I’ll do the math later.

All that matters is that she’s my wife, my life, and my forever in every single way.

FOURTEEN

Evelyn

The bridal party is buzzing with anticipation. My mother feverishly checks everyone’s hair one last time before she’s shown to her seat. The wedding planner fluffs my dress to make sure it’s laying just right for my trip down the aisle.

My father pats the perspiration off his forehead. “Is it hotter than it was earlier?”

“No, Dad. You must be nervous.”

Tucking the handkerchief back into his pocket, he says, “Not likely any more than you.”

“Of course not.”

It’s a lie. I have no sense of nervousness at all.

In only a few minutes, I will be joining my husband. We will play the part for our families and guests, but our bond has already been sealed by a ceremony that had nothing to do with flowers or a band or dresses. It was wholly us.

The music plays, signaling a change in the procession.

Wolfgang nudges me and hands me my bouquet. “See you down there, single lady.” He winks and then exits the tent.

Gazing at the gorgeous arrangement of white flowers in my hand, I smile at the last-minute addition—a single paper crane with the word
Granted
scrawled across the wings. Yes, that is certainly the case with my wish.

Moments later, the tune changes, and the wedding planner tells my father and me that it’s our time to head down the aisle.

“Don’t be nervous,” the blonde lady says, adjusting the tulle of my veil. “It’s your day. Enjoy, and have fun.”

“I will.” I turn to my father. “Are you ready?”

“I’m not so sure.” He tweaks his bow tie. “You grew up too fast.”

“It was bound to happen.”

“Bride and Dad”—the wedding planner signals for us—“I need you now. Are you good?”

“Absolutely,” I respond.

My father chuckles. “You never were indecisive.”

The helpful blonde pulls back the curtain, opening up the tent to a sea of sunshine. My father and I step out onto the white runner lying on top of the silky sand. The guests rise from their seats, and I focus on my future.

Foster. My forever Fozzie.

When we reach the end of our procession, the officiant speaks a few words to the people at my back and then asks for Foster to take my hand from my father. As my dad steps away, the officiant gives me a small nod, acknowledging the secret union from a few hours earlier, and then begins the ceremony for everyone to witness.

While he is speaking, Foster leans over and whispers into my ear, “Hello, wife.”

Foster

“Hello, husband,” Evelyn quietly says to me.

The world fades away, like water flowing over lava, and all that’s left is the woman standing next to me. We are bonded by marriage and love. We are no longer two but one.

SOMEWHERE IN THE MIDST OF INFINITY

Evelyn

Rinsing the clay from my fingers, I ponder over the piece that will be finished in the next week. I’ve been working on it for some time, in preparation for a gallery show next month. It’s my first one-man show and a dream come true.

Toweling off my hands, I note the time. I quickly straighten up the studio and close the door behind me. Down the hall in the master bedroom, I shower off the rest of the grime from my workday and get dressed into more everyday clothing. It’s always good to change out of my studio attire and join the rest of the world.

While slipping on an earring, my phone pings with a text. I grab the cell from the dresser and read the message from Foster.

Foster: Landed at the airport. I should be home in about an hour or so.

Me: Great. Drive safe. We got six inches of snow this morning.

Foster: Does six inches make you anxious?

Me: A little, but eight inches makes me happy.

Foster: Get ready for happiness. See you soon.

Me: Love you.

Foster: Back at you.

I love that man. If there’s such a thing as marital bliss, I have to say that I’m living in it. He keeps me on my toes, keeps me smiling, and loves me in all the right ways and places.

As I’m brushing the blonde strands over my shoulder, there’s a quick knock at the front door. I place the brush on the dresser and hurry down the steps to find Wolfgang, all bundled up for the cold, next to my son, Leo.

“Mama!” my two-year-old son says, meeting me at the bottom of the staircase.

I embrace the second man to ever fully steal my heart, and I nuzzle his cold nose with mine.

“My bum-bum is stinky. I tooted.”

“Did you now?”

“Yes, it smells. Guncle smells, too.” Leo points to Wolfgang. “Yum chili dog make stinky bum-bums.”

“Oh.” I set him down and begin to take off his coat while Wolfgang stands, sheepish and guilty, near the door. “Did Guncle give you chili today?”

“Yum chili! Stinky bum-bum.”

I smile and address my longtime friend, “Thank you so much for teaching him the basics.”

“My pleasure.”

“Mama vagina!” Leo blurts. “Daddy penis!”

“I didn’t teach him that!” Wolfgang insists, raising and showing his palms. “I swear.”

“Don’t worry.” I laugh, taking off my son’s boots and placing them in the nearby mudroom. “His cousins visited last weekend, and they were kind enough to teach him anatomy. You’re off the hook.”

“Phew! I didn’t want you to think I was a bad influence.”

“I’m kind of hoping you are.” I wink. “Thank you again for taking him today. I know it was last minute, but Lisa got sick, and I’m on a deadline.”

“Not a problem. I love hanging out with him.” Wolfgang squats down with his arms wide. “Time for Guncle to go. Can I get one last hug for the road?”

Without any hesitation, Leo bounds into Wolfgang’s arms for a hug.

“See you later, Da Vinci,” Wolfgang says to Leo, affectionately calling him by his nickname. My friend then kisses me on the cheek. “Talk to you soon, EJ.”

“Okay, Wolfie.”

Wolfgang exits through the front door, and I scoop up Leo to take him into the kitchen for a quick snack before giving him a bath and getting him ready for bed. As I’m pulling his shirt over his head, I hear the garage door opening below.

I tickle my son’s belly, look into his beautiful deep blue eyes that match his father’s, and tell him with enthusiasm, “Daddy’s home.”

Foster

Cutting off the ignition, I close my eyes and breathe. It’s always good, coming home. I don’t travel often, but it’s necessary now and then for work with my family’s company, and every time I’m gone, all I think about are the people who matter most to me—my wife and my son.

Letting myself out of the car, I fetch the bag from the trunk, make my way through the garage, and open the door to the kitchen where Evelyn and Leo are waiting for me.

“Daddy!” Leo runs to me, hugging my legs, before I have a chance to put down my bag. “Penis.”

I chuckle and gather him into my arms. “So, he still remembers that tidbit from last weekend?” I ask my wife.

“It appears so,” she responds with that sassy grin of hers. “He has quite the memory. It’s all your fault.”

“I refuse to apologize for him being gifted with an amazing brain.” I bounce my boy on my hip. “Right? Big brain is good.”

“Stinky bum-bum chili,” Leo retorts. “Toot bum.”

Evelyn laughs. “I’ll gladly take credit for his impeccable comedic timing.”

“Touché.” I kiss her sweet mouth that tastes of love and home. “He got the best of both worlds.”

“He’s the product of amazing chemistry.”

“And design,” I add.

Just like us.