Chapter 13 - THE WEDDING I DIDN’T HAVE TO EARN
Noah proposed after we had been together for two years.
He did not surprise me in public.
He did not involve my employees.
He did not place a ring in champagne or ask a restaurant to film my answer.
We were making breakfast.
My hair was a disaster.
He burned toast.
Then he said:
“I would like to marry you.”
I looked at him.
“That sounded like a board proposal.”
“I had slides.”
“Absolutely not.”
He smiled.
Then became serious.
“I don’t need an answer today.”
That was when I knew my answer.
Not because I was swept away.
Because there was room.
“Yes.”
He blinked.
“Today?”
“Yes.”
“Okay.”
“Please show slightly more emotion.”
He laughed and pulled me into his arms.
We planned a small wedding.
Seventy guests.
No business press.
No clients seated according to revenue.
No partnership theater.
When the coordinator asked whether I wanted a sweetheart table or traditional head table, Noah looked at me.
“What do you want?”
I laughed.
The coordinator looked confused.
“Sorry.”
I explained nothing.
We chose one long table.
The night before the wedding, my phone buzzed.
Luke.
First direct message in almost two years.
I considered not opening it.
Then did.
I heard you’re getting married tomorrow.
I hope he asks before giving away your seat.
I stared.
Then laughed so loudly Noah came from the kitchen.
“What?”
I showed him.
He read it.
“Do you want me to respond?”
“No.”
“Good.”
He handed the phone back.
“What do you want to do?”
I deleted the message.
Not angrily.
Not ceremonially.
It simply had nowhere else to go.
The next morning, I wore a simple ivory dress.
Maya stood beside me.
Priya cried before the ceremony began and denied it aggressively.
Anna Reyes attended.
Camellia sent flowers but did not come.
Appropriate.
Before walking down the aisle, the coordinator whispered:
“Ready?”
I looked through the doors.
Noah was waiting.
Not owning the destination.
Waiting.
“Yes.”
At the reception, there was one empty chair beside me for several minutes because Noah was talking to my uncle.
A junior consultant jokingly asked:
“Can I steal Noah’s seat?”
I said:
“Ask him.”
She laughed.
So did I.
That tiny moment meant more than it should have.
Because nobody in the room assumed something became available simply because its owner was temporarily elsewhere.
Later, Noah and I danced.
“I have a wedding present,” he said.
“Please don’t tell me it’s transportation.”
“No.”
He handed me an envelope.
Inside were two first-class train tickets to Boston for our mini-honeymoon.
I raised one eyebrow.
He grinned.
“Check the seats.”
I did.
9A.
9B.
“Which one is mine?”
“You booked them.”
“Yes.”
“So?”
He shrugged.
“You like windows.”
I looked at him.
“9A is yours.”
No grand lesson.
No speech.
He simply remembered.
May you like
Sometimes being loved properly feels almost anticlimactic after chaos.
That is one of its greatest qualities.
