Winter Wonderland

twenty-five: big day

Three months later

When my parents got engaged, when Matt was two, my mom spent a year planning the wedding of her dreams. She and my dad scrimped and saved, back before they had the money to spend on their big day, and they made it work. My parents were young but they were determined. Mom was only twenty when she walked down the aisle with a homemade bouquet, in a dress she had gotten from a thrift store and altered herself when she ended up getting married two months after giving birth to me.

Storie and I don't take a year to plan. We don't need it. We don't want a big day with loads of people. Just us and our families. We discussed city hall, but I didn't want that. Storie didn't either, not really. She wanted something simple. So did I.

That's how we end up in her parents' backyard on a surprisingly bright day at the end of October, the sun warm and the sky clear. It's perfect. There's space for all of us, and this way her dad gets to be a part of it too. It's sentimental, I know, and obviously Lev Sovany doesn't live on in the tree that was planted with his ashes, but it's Storie's wedding day. Her dad can't walk her down the aisle, but just like the day I proposed, at least he's here.

He's over ten feet tall now, big enough for us to stand under the leaves when we exchange our vows. I'm standing in the upstairs hallway, looking through the small window that overlooks the backyard, with a perfect view of the oak tree as its leaves turn from green to yellow.

I can't believe today's the day. Today's the day I marry my soulmate. If Gray lets me. I'm slightly nervous about the fact that, true to his word, he got ordained just for this: he's officiating the wedding, and a small part of me is scared that he'll purposely do it wrong, or he'll get to the exchanging of the rings and he'll stop. Which, actually, would be alright seeing as we're not exchanging rings. Neither of us wear jewelry or want to start, so it seems an odd way to start married life.

"How're you feeling?"

I turn around to see Mom behind me, her eyes already wet and the ceremony hasn't even started yet.

"I'm feeling good," I say with a steady smile. Gray-related nerves aside, it's the truth. I am feeling good. I get to marry Storie Sovany today. How fucking lucky am I?

"I'm so happy for you," Mom says, her voice barely more than a whisper because I'm pretty sure she's about to burst into tears. I pull her into a hug and hold onto her tightly.

"Thanks, Mom. For everything. You're literally the best mom anyone could ask for."

She holds me even tighter and says, "Stop it, I just did my make-up. I can't ruin it already."

I laugh and let her go. There's no way she's making it through the morning without ruining her make-up, let alone the day. "Really, though, Mom, I mean it," I say. "I genuinely don't think I could've gotten through the last five years without you."

"Stop it, William, now you're just trying to make me cry."

I'm not, but I do anyway.

Nothing about Storie's and my relationship has been that traditional so far, and that extends to today. We didn't spend the night before our wedding apart: we shared a bed in her old room, and I've seen her dress several times since she bought it a couple weeks ago, when she got it back from the alterations place. I've seen her in it once, too, when she tried it on to make sure it fit. To say it's perfect is an understatement. She didn't have it on for long, and I can't wait to see it today. I'm glad that, unlike my mom, I'm not wearing make-up, because I know I'm going to cry.

This is a day I have dreamed about for so long. A thought I first entertained five years ago, before we broke up, when I realized how head over heels in love I was with her. It's a thought that cropped up countless times in the years before I saw her again at Winter Wonderland, when I tortured myself wondering what it would've been like if we'd gone the distance, if we'd gotten married.