Commitment

Tahoe

Camaraderie and Commitment. The two words in my life that mean the most. To me, they can be exchanged as definitions for one another. Today I gained both in the form of a radiant bride. She’s twirling around the wooden dance floor under the starlight with her father leading. Her smile is huge and her laughter could be the only music I hear for the rest of my life and I’d be perfectly content. Her gaze catches mine, and I see more of her teeth. She’s breathtaking in every sense of the word. Her wedding dress is lace and modest, and her face isn’t painted like it was in New York.

This is my Caroline.

Her hair a tangle of waves, is pulled away from her face, but a few strands tugged free and cut across her face as she spins. Slow motion. Pause. Rewind. I want to do all of these during this moment. The camera flashes and I’m thankful the photographer saw what I just did and was wise enough to capture it.

My chest aches. The love I have for her so encompassing, I’m not sure she’ll ever truly know how much she means to me or how far I’ll go to make her happy. Finally. Finally. I have what I desire most in this crazy world. My very own sunshine. Even on those days when I’m thinking about dark things, I know that by walking into the room she’ll steal those thoughts away.

How do I tell Caroline she’s saving me without telling her why?

“Tahoe,” Caroline calls. Her mouth grinning around my name. “Come here.”

Standing from our little table, I approach her and her dad. The blush of her cheeks and the sheen on her neck call out to the beast that lies dormant. I finally get to tap him on the shoulder. Tonight. Our wedding night is here.

“The band is playing our song next. Are you ready?”

I grin, and her gaze darts to my lips. The dimple she loves. “I’m never not ready,” I reply. May shakes my hand and kisses her on the cheek and heads back to Mrs. May who is crying and laughing in the same measure. She knew all along. Or so she told me when I asked them both for permission to marry Caroline. They were both overzealous in their acceptance of my offer, even going as far as telling me I needed to propose as soon as possible. That was when she was recovering, though. I think we all thought her acceptance or refusal was a shot in the dark.

I was the one to get her back in a plane. I think that’s when they knew she’d be back to her old self in no time. I was fucking petrified we would crash. Not because she was piloting, but because that’s what happens anytime you hear about an airplane crash on the news. You wonder if yours is going down next. The fact that I saw her fiery wreckage didn’t help my phobia either.

“Have I told you how ravishing you look tonight?” I take her into my arms and the camera flashes.

“Only about a thousand times,” she replies. “How are we going to do this dance? Malena was probably right. We should have practiced or something, right?”

Malena did an awesome job. But I think most of this wedding came together because of the small town of Bronze Bay. They drop everything to help one of their own, and the fact is we didn’t want anything fancy.

The band came from the next town over and we have the restaurant hook up already. I’m wearing my uniform, and Caroline’s dress is a remake of her mother’s that the town seamstress updated for this decade. For something so impossible, it came together effortlessly, like this was how it was always supposed to happen.

My buddies shout out from the corner bar when the band starts the familiar twang of our song. She wraps her hands around my neck and presses her lips into a thin line. Someone is clinking their glasses, signaling they want us to kiss. I lean down and give her a chaste peck and she narrows her eyes.

I laugh. “We can’t give them too much. That’s ours, remember? After we finish up here?”

The reminder sets her on fire. I know what to say and it thrills me to no end. “Mrs. Holiday.”

“I’m like Mrs. Claus now,” Caroline jokes.

I lean over and lean into her ear. “Ho. Ho. Ho.”

She gasps. “You’re Mr. Holiday, tonight.”

I swallow hard. “You’re my wife. Thank you, Caroline. Thank you.”

The music slows. “Thank you for loving me.”

“I never had a choice in that,” I reply. “First, I took over the beach. The one you took your first steps on. Then I took over your airport. The one your family owns. The next logical step was to love you. For the rest of my life.”

Holding her face with my left hand, I hope she feels the platinum band rest on her cheekbone. “You’re so suave sometimes,” she says. Resting the side of her face on my chest, she stays that way for a few moments.

“Sometimes?” I mock. “I feel like you’re shortchanging me.”

“All the time. Fine. When you’re not being silent and stoic, that is.”

“That’s a defense mechanism,” I argue. “It’s how I try not to fall in love.”

“Remind me of that when you’re being stoic with your friends,” she says, smirking.

I laugh. “You’re feeling frisky tonight.”

“In more ways than one.”

I glance at my watch. “Not long now,” I soothe. Rubbing her exposed back.

The moment crystalizes as my time in Bronze Bay comes together. The utter awful feeling of being sent to a satellite base, to the sheer joy of exploring the small town, to falling in love. With not just Caroline May, but with this this place, my new home. The people surrounding us have played a part in our relationship in some form. My buddies from San Diego flew in for the occasion, and seeing them and their wives gives me more than hope, it gives me proof that real love survives anything.

It has to.

Because I won’t survive without her.

Not without her friendship, and surely not without the commitment we made today.