“With no wedding?”
“With a ceremony.”
“For what?”
He smiled.
“For the woman who stayed alive long enough to attend it.”
I stared at him.
Then I turned to the guests.
My voice was shaky, but loud enough.
“Everyone, thank you for coming to the strangest wedding in New Jersey.”
A ripple of laughter.
“I was supposed to marry someone else today. He left. Then I thought I was dying. Then I found out I might have more time than I was told. Then a man I hired to pretend became the first person who refused to lie to me.”
Owen looked down.
I continued.
“So no, I am not getting married today.”
My mother covered her mouth, smiling through tears.
“But I am still walking this aisle. I am still wearing this dress. My father still paid for the food, and I am absolutely eating the cake.”
A louder laugh.
“And if illness has taught me anything, it is this: love is not the person who promises forever when forever looks pretty. Love is the person who stays when forever becomes uncertain.”
I looked at my parents.
Then Owen.
“So today, I choose to stay.”
The officiant lifted her chin.
“In that case,” she said, voice trembling, “by the authority of absolutely no legal institution whatsoever, I now pronounce this day reclaimed.”
Everyone stood.
Applause broke over the garden.
Not polite applause.
Not wedding applause.
Survival applause.
My father hugged me so tightly I almost lost my breath.
My mother sobbed into my veil.
Owen stepped back, giving us the moment.
But my father reached for him too.
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