Avery and I held hands on one side of the officiant while Graham stood at the other, beaming in his tailored navy blue dress uniform and occasionally dashing moisture from his light brown lashes. Unsurprisingly, Avery had insisted that Verity serve as flower girl. She toddled toward us holding a basket of petals and Tara’s hand, to string music provided by some of Graham’s band mates. A collection of our most intimate friends followed and flanked us on the platform: Maurice and Iris, Rowan and Lamont, Rae and Hector, Vik and Gavin. Others filled the benches, along with neighbors, colleagues, and community leaders.
We’d agreed to keep our vows simple, with the caveat that Avery and Graham were allowed to make longer, more emotive speeches later, without pressuring me to share my private feelings in public. We spoke our promises, the same ones Avery and I had made four years before, and the cheering was jubilant when Graham finished them off with long, deep kisses for each of us.
Rowan had arranged a reception outside, complete with cake, candied nuts, sparkling wine, and hanging lanterns that showed brighter as the sun went down. Each invited guest congratulated us with hugs and well wishes and thoughtful gifts, the magnitude of which was a little overwhelming. Every one of our wedding party also insisted on giving a toast, combining silly jokes and sweet sentiments that, despite my best efforts, dampened my eyes at several points. Avery and Graham concluded the orations, thanking our friends and sharing with heartfelt sincerity what this day meant to them. I wasn’t nearly the only one moved to tears by the end.
There was dancing after that, which I didn’t participate in except when Avery finally cajoled me into “just one song.” He and Graham possessed much more rhythm and much less inhibition, which they displayed enthusiastically. Many of our friends joined them, while others sat with me on the benches, trading memories and laughter. My two husbands returned often to catch their breath, take a few more sips of wine, and kiss me tenderly.
There was another round of hugs and kisses before the three of us took our leave, holding hands during the short walk to our quarters. To my surprise, someone had snuck in — I suspected Vik and Gavin, since they kept our spare key — and left more gifts: aromatic candles, a few of the sunflower bouquets from the chapel, and a small bottle of spirits.
My suspicion was confirmed when we discovered a small card on the nightstand bearing Vik’s graceful script. “May your love burn brighter than flames and bloom more beautiful than flowers all the days of your lives,” it read, bringing another lump to my throat.
As for rest of our night together, it wasn’t much different from many others we’d passed in this room. Which was exactly the point.
* * * * *
Avery:
“Happy anniversary, babe,” I beamed at Julian when we were seated cross-legged at the edge of the cliff where we always came to celebrate this date. Usually we sat side by side, but tonight I was more interested in staring at him than at the sunset. Exactly five years ago, in a forest-scented dusk very like this one, I’d made my terrifying confession to him outside our old settlement at Sabine Ridge. And when he declared for me in return, his fingers and lips gentle against my heated face, it marked me forever.
“Happy anniversary indeed,” Julian smiled back.
“A second husband is a pretty elaborate gift,” I joked, still floating high after the fairy-tale experience yesterday. “Good luck topping that next year.”
“Maybe next year we’ll be celebrating our anniversary in a private dining room overlooking the Pacific Ocean,” he replied in the same playful manner.
“You think?” We hadn’t officially decided what our plans were when Graham finished his military service contract at the end of November, but there’d been more discussion lately about moving back to his and Julian’s home state of Oregon.
“I’m honestly fine either way. Graham and I have seen both sides, and they each have their disadvantages. But even if we don’t stay away long-term, part of me really wants the chance to give you so many experiences that are impossible here. Like hot running water and cupboards full of food and places to go besides the creek or the main hall. Trips to the mountains and the beach and the Lansing estates. Access to books that were published after 2053. A home where you won’t get shot trying to obtain basic necessities.”
“Does sound kind of nice,” I agreed. “I would miss everyone here. But if we don’t go, I’ll probably never get to meet Graham’s family, and that would make me sad.”
Julian nodded. “That would make me sad too. It wouldn’t be as difficult to get back here as it used to be, if we wanted to. I know how important being in Verity’s life is to you. And her younger sibling-to-be.”
“Yeah.” Tara hadn’t had as much trouble getting pregnant this year, which she and Lamont and I were extremely excited about.
I got distracted by Julian’s focus dropping to my necklace, which brought an adorably radiant smile to his cheeks and renewed the glow in his cerulean-hued eyes.
“What?” I asked, breaking into another grin automatically.
He shook his head, voice laden with laughter and amazed joy. “I can’t believe you’re married to Captain Lansing.”
“I know, right?” I echoed his amusement at the wonderful absurdity of this twist of fate. “I can’t believe you are either. Most people consider themselves very lucky if they find their soulmate once. How the hell did we manage to get a double portion?”
Julian laughed again in awe of our cosmic blessing. “Honestly babe, I have no idea.”
When it got dark, we lay back and studied the constellations, the same ones I’d been looking at since I was too young to know how incredibly vast they were. We debated whether planetary positions at the moment of birth can truly reveal clues about our life’s path, or whether astrology merely offers guideposts for fulfilling choices that could apply to any placement of the stars. We talked about all the things I might get to do on the West Coast: Surfing the endless Pacific waves. Watching frozen flakes of snow fall from the sky. Attending my niece- and nephew-in-law’s concerts and school events. Furthering my formal education, and maybe even going into business with Graham’s uncle after all.
Then there were all the things we’d come back for someday — our friends, our community, and more anniversaries spent here in this small piece of forest that wasn’t special at all, except that love made it so.
If none of it ever happened, even if this turned out to be our last night on earth, it wouldn’t matter.
I’d be coasting on this brilliant happiness until after the end of time.