Next, Missy glided toward me, looking almost as euphoric as a bride herself. She smiled at me as she crossed, and just before moving out of my view, she winked and stuck out her tongue, exactly the sassy kind of gesture I might have expected from her. I smirked and shook my head at her antics, catching the puzzled look on my parents’ faces in the front row. I grinned at them and winked, which sent my mother back to her purse for a tissue; the poor woman had been a basket case all weekend. She and Grace got along exceptionally; we’d flown out to Vermont over Easter to spend the holiday with my family and give everyone a chance to meet, as well as to tell them about God’s new role in my life. The God stuff was met with shaky acceptance, but they fell in love with Grace immediately. She’d had no trouble fitting in, and there were times when it felt like I was the outsider marrying in.

The violinists ended the prelude and began the song Grace had chosen for her grand entrance. All the guests craned their necks to see past the bridge to the bridal cottage where she appeared, seeming to levitate. The sight of her took my breath away. She glowed, as though she were illuminated from within. She floated over the bridge and to the back row of chairs, and then, as everyone stood for her solitary walk down the aisle, her eyes locked with mine, and I could barely keep from running up to kiss her then and there.

She slid in beside me, handing Missy her cascade bouquet of roses, and as I took her hand, I whispered, “Can I kiss you yet?”

“Hold your horses, cowboy,” Greg admonished.

“How fast can we make this ceremony?” I asked.

“Cut the music, and we can be out of here in ten minutes.”

“Not soon enough; go straight to the vows.” The wedding party laughed along with us, although I don’t think any of them realized how serious I was.

After that everything moved so quickly I felt as though we must have left something out, and then suddenly I had a ring on my finger, and Grace, my wife—my wife—was before me, eyes like blue stars shining up at me, and I heard the words I’d been waiting for all day.

“You may kiss the bride.”

The guests, led by an enthusiastic wedding party, whooped and cheered and applauded as I dipped my beloved and delivered a flawless kiss, my first as a married man. So far matrimony was tops. Greg introduced us to the crowd, who stood and clapped some more as we came down from the small stage to dismiss the rows to the hors d’oeuvres tables on the far balcony. It was a small party, family and close friends only, and thankfully no leaks to the press had brought crashers.