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to this," he suggests, interrupting our tte--tte to hand it to Cullen. "It may be useful the next time
you're in trouble."
Putting the note in his suit pocket, Cullen looks at me with a raised eyebrow. "He's probably right," I
agree, playing along with his unspoken, teasing question. Laughing again, I squeeze his arm and lean
my head against his shoulder for a brief moment.
Nodding at us, Reverend Tom instructs, "Please face each other and join hands."
I give my flowers to Mrs. Cope and turn toward Cullen. He goes first, reciting the words that will bind us
together legally& spiritually. As he vows to love, honor and respect, his voice is sure, unwavering. Mine
is the opposite, trembling noticeably when it's my turn to repeat the lines. Cullen's thumbs slide
soothingly across my knuckles, his gaze never leaving mine. I finish without completely breaking down,
but a couple of tears overflow, rolling down my left cheek.
"I love you," he murmurs. He shifts both of my hands to one of his, using the other to wipe away the
wetness. Struggling to rein in my runaway emotions, I grip his fingers tightly in reply, but don't try to
answer out loud.
"May I have the rings please?" Reverend Tom asks. While Cullen gets them from his pocket and hands
them over, I take several deep breaths, determined not to cry my way through the rest of the wedding.
Cupping our bands in his palm, Reverend Tom points out the significance and symbolism of exchanging
rings, and then holds them toward us. "Edward."
Cullen lifts my left hand and slides the ring into place, echoing the reverend's quiet words. "Bella, I give
you this ring as a sign of my love and faithfulness."
Picking up his ring, I put it on his finger, keeping my eyes locked on his. "Edward, I give you this ring as
a sign of my love and faithfulness." Pleased that my voice is stronger this time, I smile. Then I lower my
gaze to his hand, watching as he flexes it and makes a fist a few times. When I look quizzically at him, he
shrugs.
"Just getting comfortable."
"You'll get used to it," I reply, amused. "You won't even know it's there after a few days."
"I'll know it's there, legs."
Moved by his sweet sentiment, I reach up to trace my fingers along his jaw. He grasps my hand,
pressing his lips to my palm before lowering our hands to hang between us. Grinning crookedly, he
swipes his thumb across my ring, and I suddenly realize that it's done; we're married. Elation swells in my
chest and I can hardly stand still. I'm nearly bouncing as I turn to look at Reverend Tom when he
speaks.
"Bella and Edward, you have pledged to be loyal and loving toward each other. You have formalized
your bond with spoken vows and with the giving and receiving of rings," he declares warmly. With a quiet
chuckle, he continues, "It is my pleasure to now pronounce you wife and husband."
Laughing, I immediately look at Cullen, knowing that he orchestrated the reversal of the standard
phrasing. He's laughing, too, and before Reverend Tom finishes giving us permission, his lips are on
mine. Giddy, I kiss him back, wrapping my arms around his neck when his circle my waist. The guitarist is
playing quietly in the background. The photographer is moving around us, her flash lighting up often.
Mrs. Cope is talking. But I ignore all of it, concentrating only on my husband. After a moment, I break
away long enough to whisper that I love him, and he lifts me up, hugging me tightly as he responds in
kind.
"I can't believe you got him to say that," I say, chuckling again.
"Anything for the bride. It's your day."
Rearing back to look at him, I frown. "It's our day. The groom should get what he wants, too."
"I did, Bella." He sets me down gently, and then rests his forehead against mine, closing his eyes. "I got
everything that I wanted."
Sitting in the middle of the backseat, I rest my head against Cullen's upper arm. When I glance at the
highway sign we pass, I'm relieved to see that the airport exit is just a mile ahead. We've been married
for almost two hours now, and we have to catch a plane by the time we hit the three-hour mark.
Relaxed from the wine I drank during dinner, I wind my arm through Cullen's and close my eyes, content
to let my mind replay the last few hours. Again. Every detail of the ceremony is burned into my memory,
from the look in Cullen's eyes to the sound of his voice. In ways I wouldn't have thought of, he made
sure our wedding included moments  both romantic and humorous  that were meaningful to us.
The wine cellar where we ate dinner had a private entrance and was isolated from the dining room of the
restaurant. Wooden shelves lined three walls, holding dark bottles of the finest vintage. After Cullen
chose one for us, we toasted each other and drank with our arms linked, following tradition. We also fed [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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