I don’t think I could ever tire of hearing those words. Of feeling this way.

“You’re not so bad yourself,” I answer, making him smirk.

“Everyone, please be seated,” the officiant says. With the sounds of seats cracking, I assume people listen to his instruction, but I couldn’t know for sure. My gaze is stuck to my lover’s.

The officiant starts talking about the importance of marriage. About love and duty and a life shared between two people. It’s all beautiful, but my attention is split. I’m still halfway stuck on wrapping my head around the fact that I’m actually here, marrying the love of my life.

“And now, our bride and groom will share their vows.”

Aaron squeezes my hands and winks. We decided I’d go first, considering I was nervous about sharing my feelings in front of everyone, and I’d rather not go after him when he’ll obviously have the best vows ever written. I still agreed to write and read our own vows because this is not exactly a typical marriage, and I wanted our ceremony to reflect that.

I didn’t write anything down. It’s all there, in my head. Exhaling through pursed lips, I keep my eyes on Aaron and Aaron alone.

“When we met, I honestly didn’t know what to think.”

He lifts an eyebrow, lips quirked up.

“You were there, so ready to talk freely to anyone who would listen. So open to all things. Life had given you a lot of struggles—I could see it, even then—yet you had never lost that part of you that makes you so wonderful. And I found that both extremely strange and so, so impressive. I couldn’t imagine being brave enough to never lose faith in life and love. The time we’ve spent together since then has only proved what I already knew that first night in the bar, and it inspires me so much. The way you live your life has quite literally changed everything I thought I knew about the world.”

My throat closes up, but Aaron’s thumb caressing my hand keeps me grounded enough to continue.

“You told me once that I didn’t believe I could make you happy, and you were right.” Everyone here now knows about my genetic susceptibility for Alzheimer’s, so there’s no need to hide anything. “I didn’t think you or anyone here with us today could benefit from having me in their life. But by loving you and being loved by you, I learned to love myself too.”

Aaron isn’t simply holding my hands now. His fingers are intertwined with mine and squeezing hard, as if holding on for dear life. His eyes are shiny. Mine probably are too.