It really is true to its name. That was the only thing I could think as our van pulled up to the white building. “A Little White Chapel,” heart emblazoned heart sign read, and that was exactly what it was. And what we needed.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Jake asked.

“Are you?” I shot back.

He sighed, giving me something between a smile and a scowl.

“You know I am. But hell, Alice, I told you, I want it to be a proper ceremony, where I can proclaim to the world just how much you mean to me. I want it in some big hall packed with our family and friends—not in some seedy Las Vegas, 24-hour joint with people who don’t give a damn about us.”

I clasped his hand.

“And I told you. We can do all that, have the big ceremony. Just for now, this is our best shot to get on my father’s good side. Trust me.”

Pulling over into the parking lot, Jake nodded.

“All right. I just hope you’re right, Alice.”

I didn’t say anything, but as we walked up to the white, heart-carved doors, all I was thinking was that I hoped so, too. We didn’t have anything wedding-appropriate to wear, but we’d opted to wear the nicest clothes we’d picked up on our travels. Jake looked as handsome as ever in dark jeans and a black V-neck T-shirt, while I donned my only white article of clothing—a lacey blouse—paired with a sky-blue skirt that brought out my eyes.

Inside at the gold-gilded front desk was an older woman talking on the phone.

“Naw. We don’t do movies. Sorry.”

She pressed a button and then continued talking on the phone. “Well hi. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. No. No dogs. Because they piss. No. No. Have a good one.”

She pressed a button. Then, seeing us, pressed another and, her platinum blond head raising slightly, asked, “Wedding?”

Unsure if she had been addressing us, we stared at her blankly.

“A wed-ding?” she repeated slowly, as if we were four-year-olds.

Jake jerked to life.

“Yes, actually. We’d like to get married. Now.”

Her over-tanned head nodded as her hands moved, unseen, behind the front desk.

“You’ll have to sign here.” She handed us a light pink form. “And that’ll be 75 dollars—cash, debit, or credit.”

A crinkled palm extended, presumably for the just-mentioned payment.

I fished around in my bag, but Jake put his hand on my lower arm.

“Don’t you dare. If we’re doing this your way, then we’re doing this my way.”

I sighed and began filling out the paperwork while Jake made the payment and chatted with the oh-so-friendly front desk woman.

“So, how does this work exactly?”

Cherry red, talon-like hands shoved back Jake’s change while bubble-gum pink lips said, “You go in, Charlene does the ceremony, you say vows if you’ve got ‘em, then—poof—it’s done. Marriage. The whole kit and caboodle.”

I could almost see Jake’s brow lowering in combative irritation. Luckily, I was done with the forms.

“Here you go,” I said. The woman accepted them without a word.

“Why, hello there,” a calm, friendly voice said.

We turned to see a kindly faced woman in a minister’s robe.

“Well, aren’t you two a picture,” she said in a reassuring voice with a southern twang. She shook both our hands warmly. Then, leaning in, she asked, “Are you ready?”

At the uncertain silence that met her question, she laughed. Leaning in further, she said, “Now, don’t you worry. No one ever really is.”

Taking both our hands, she led us down a hallway toward a white-arched doorway.

“You’ll be getting married in the original chapel today. Beatrice should have told you what to expect, but first things first—if you have vows, you should get them out now.”

Stopped at the edge of the beautiful chapel, we were momentarily speechless at the sight before us. Set against the deep purple floor, the white wooden seats and walls and the pink and lavender stained glass windows were stunning. Just when I was about to speak, I caught sight of the garlands of red, pink, and blue flowers on the ceiling and the white-flower-bearing statues.

Jake squeezed my hand.

“We don’t have them, but I do have something to say.”

Charlene nodded.

“Let’s go to the front, and you can say away.”

Time slowed down as we processed up the aisle of the most beautiful room I’d ever been in. Every detail of the room stood out to me: the mirrored back wall, the glass celebration of a chandelier, the kissing doves on the stained-glass window, even the fire extinguisher tucked in the back. Then, finally, we were at the front, facing ourselves in the mirror, and Jake was speaking.

“I don’t know where to begin, Alice. I don’t know how to explain this to you—hell, how to explain it to myself. How years of loneliness, despair, and hopelessness were extinguished in a single night, by a single person. How I could have been so very wrong about so many things. Before I met you, Alice, there was a glass wall between me and the world. I saw what went on behind the wall but didn’t experience it; I judged it but never lived it.

“I thought I had mastered the game—that in not caring, in not risking enough to get hurt, I had beat the system, that I’d won. I’ve never cared much about anyone in my life, and no one has much cared about me either. And the worst part is, I thought I knew better; I thought disappointment was what relationships were all about, that all love was doomed to pass, that the joy it produced was never worth the pain.

“I thought people always left, always would leave. I thought I would never find someone I could be myself with, someone who would bring out the best in me. And then, Alice…well, I met you.”

As he had been speaking, tears had formed in Jake’s eyes. Now that he looked at me, one rolled down.

“I tried to deny it at first, tried to keep you at a distance. I tried to pretend that this feeling raging in my heart was a blip, a mistake—tried to convince myself that you were just like all the other girls I’d been with. Just another joining of bodies, not of souls. But, Alice, I couldn’t. Not with you. Not with the genuine caring in your eyes as I shared my story with you. Not with the way you throw your head back when you laugh, or when your eyes flash when you’re angry.

“And really, Alice, not one minute that I was actually in your presence could I convince myself that there wasn’t something different about you, something special, something electric. Something that makes me want to get out of bed every day and give it a real go—not just a half-ass try to prove my assumptions. And that’s all because of you, Alice.

“I’ve known you for less than a month, and yet I feel like I’ve known you my whole life. You challenge me, you make me laugh, and you make me feel. Alice, I know this is a lot to take in at once, but I love you with my whole heart. I used to think the world was so small and separate; I saw everything with narrowed eyes—believed the world was the size of my squint. But you’ve changed that. You’ve opened my eyes. I used to think the world was out to get me, that I was doomed, that I would never be truly happy. But meeting you, this, us, you’ve made me think that, maybe, I’m not so doomed as I thought. That maybe, just maybe, life has some good things in store for me, too. That maybe, just maybe, this is all going to be all right.”

His hands were clasping mine; his face was filled with tears. Or they seemed to be, since I could barely see through my own screen of tears.

“And, Alice, I don’t know what else to say except thank you. Thank you for saving me, for meeting me. Thank you for everything. I love you more than I can say.”

In the wake of his words, the room was silent. Everything seemed to sparkle; it was all crystal clear and vibrant—the colors, these feelings, our love.

And then the words came to me, too.

“I don’t know what else to say either, not really. I’ve always been good at avoiding saying things outright, at expressing things as they really are. My father always got on my case about being indecisive, but the truth is that I was never indecisive. I always knew, deep down, what was right for me. I just didn’t always have the strength to choose it. And before you, Jake, I lived a lukewarm half-life.

“I did things to please others; I did the bare minimum to get by. I postponed what I wanted indefinitely. It was normal, I figured, saying one thing and doing another, keeping up appearances, avoiding that which frightened me. And I got so used to this half-lived life that I started believing that was how things were supposed to be, how things would always be—not really felt or enjoyed or experienced fully. No, just another day doing what was expected, following the schedule, ticking off the to-dos.

“That was what my life had become, and that was all I expected my life to ever be. And then you came in. You ripped up my schedule, ruined my plans—hell, you kidnapped me on my wedding day, for God’s sake! And, just like that, as all my plans and expectations tumbled into a heap at my feet, I was face to face with what was left, with something like the truth.

“Underneath all the extravagant wedding plans, the blue flowers and the Armani wedding dress and the guest list longer than both my arms, was a man I didn’t want to marry. A man I didn’t know or love, and who didn’t know or love me. And I had been so blind, so asleep in my sad, make-believe life, that I almost didn’t notice.

“You changed that. Suddenly, just how blind I had been was all around me— the university degree I had no interest in actually using, the father I had always tried to please at the expense of myself. With you, things were different—are different. I laugh with my mouth open too wide, the way Paul hated; I say things I shouldn’t and cry too much. And I am really, honestly terrified, because, Jake, this is the first time I’ve cared about something this much in as long as I can remember.

“You inspire me. You make me want to follow my dreams, set up the charity like I always wanted. But, more than that, you make me feel like it’s possible, like being happy, having it all, is really, truly possible.

“Before, I thought there was always a trade-off to be had—that it was either other people’s happiness or mine. That I either did things for those I loved or I did things for myself. Before, I thought this was normal, this half-feeling, half-living. I thought love was a Hollywood fairy tale. I thought settling for ‘good enough’ was just that.

“But you—you’ve ripped apart all my illusions. You’ve thrown my expectations out the window, and you’ve shown me, Jake, you’ve really shown me, that a life half-lived is not a life at all. ‘Good enough’ is never just that when there’s true love, a soulmate to be had. And, most of all, you’ve given me hope, hope and excitement for what’s to come.

“I’m not afraid anymore, Jake. Because I know, whatever’s coming, whatever’s around the bend for us—I know it’s going to be something great.”

At these last words, this sudden coming together of what I’d said, this crashing down of all the realizations I hadn’t even known I’d had, I steadied myself on Jake’s chest. He wrapped his arms around me, enveloping me.

Over his shoulder, Charlene was wiping away tears. I closed my eyes. I let Jake hold me and lost myself in those big strong arms, in this incredible man. I didn’t know when we parted, but when we did, Charlene’s face was serene.

“Are you ready?” she asked.

“Yes,” we chorused, and she smiled.

“Let’s begin. Alice, will you have Jake to be your husband, to live together in the covenant of marriage? Will you love him, comfort him, honor him, keep him in sickness and in health, and be faithful to him? Will you do this?"

I grasped Jake’s hand and squeezed it.

“I will.”

“Jake, will you have Alice to be your wife, to live together in the covenant of marriage? Will you love her, comfort her, honor her, keep her in sickness and in health, and be faithful to her? Will you do this?"

He squeezed my hand.

“I will.”

“Will those witnessing these promises do all in your power to uphold these two persons in their marriage? Will you do this? If so, answer ‘I will.’”

“I will,” said a voice from the back. It was the grumpy platinum-haired lady from out front. Once she stepped out of the shadows, we all signed the marriage certificate. Then the front desk lady smiled at us shyly and left.

“Well,” Charlene said, taking both of our hands. “You’ve already said your vows, so all that’s left is to declare you man and wife. I now declare you married in the eyes of God, the law, and all beings. Jake, you may now kiss the bride."

And just like that, Jake’s lips were on mine. He was my husband. We were married.

The next hour was a blur. Jake tucked the marriage certificate into his wallet like it was just a receipt from another diner. Strolling through the deep blue, cherub-decorated Tunnel of Love and reading its swirling “I can’t live without you” quote was like a dream. We wandered along palm-tree lined streets, smiling at strangers, looking at long strips of buildings that were all the same in that they didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered was the man holding my hand right then. We wandered until we found ourselves in front of yet another building surrounded by palm trees, but this one was a motel.

“Let’s stay here,” I said.

Jake cast a dubious look at the neon pink sign.

“You sure?”

A kiss was all it took for him to agree and get us a room.