K. Bromberg - Crashed

I look over at Colton and the emotions swallow me whole. I love him with all my heart. No questions. No doubts. No fears.

“Hey, Ryles,” he says, pulling me into him. “If they’re gonna stare …” He raises an eyebrow and smiles when he sees the ring on my left hand resting on his bicep.

I throw my head back and laugh before completing the line for him. “Might as well give them something good to stare at.”

He raises an eyebrow at me. “Fuck, I love you, soon-to-be-Mrs. Donavan,” he drawls out, chills dancing on my spine and a smile spreading on my lips, as he leans forward and kisses me.

The cheers rise to a riotous level down below, but all I hear is Colton’s soft groan. All I feel is every place our bodies are touching. All I know is that the warmth spreading inside of me, taking hold, is finding permanence.

Everything else fades away.

The crowd below.

The world beyond.

Because I have, everything I need, is right here in my arms.

The one thing neither of us ever wanted turned out to be the one thing we don’t ever want to live without.

Each other.

1 year later

You’re late. Who do you think you are, the bride or something?

It’s all the text says and I laugh as I try to type a text back but can’t because my hands are shaking. I can’t steady them and yet I need to. If my mom walks in she’s going to think I’m nervous. She’s going to think I have doubts and that my feet are getting cold.

And that’s the farthest thing from the truth.

Because I am so ready to dive in headfirst. So excited to see him, to kiss him, to become officially his, I’m bouncing up and down with excitement. My stomach churns because I can’t wait to see his face—the best part of a wedding I think—when he’ll see me for the first time.

I look down at my phone and reply. I can be late if I want to. It’s my wedding. Rule number one. The bride—the wife—is always right. Non-negotiable.

I look out the window of our bedroom to the deck below and take in the tropical paradise the terrace has been transformed into. Our close family and friends are milling around, the boys are all dressed in matching tuxedos, ushering them to their seats.

I enjoy this quiet moment away from the frenzy that ruled my morning and the chaos I know will ensue shortly. My last few moments as Rylee Thomas . Dressed in white—every ounce of me ruched and inlayed and princessed to perfection—with one simple exception that I refused to budge on.

I look in the mirror at the black and white checkered sash that wraps around my waist and falls down the back of my dress. My little ode to Colton and our private joke.

My phone dings. Already giving rules and we’re not even married yet? A certain wife just might need to be fucked into submission later. My rule number one: You can have any rule you want, baby, but in the bedroom I’m the one making the rules.

I laugh, my body already strung so tight with need that I know his simple touch will set me off. I smirk, thinking of the checkered flag theme that’s carried over to my undergarments and the groan I’ll hear when Colton discovers it later. And I’m so desperate for that part, considering I’ve not let him touch me for the past month, regardless of how much he begged and pleaded. But when I decided to screw my own rules—give in to my own desire of wanting him to make love to him, he rejected me. “ Welcome to the big leagues” his preferred comment of choice.

Ace, you already dominate my mind, heart, and soul … in the bedroom’s just an added bonus. Besides, since when do you follow rules?

I hit send as I breathe in deeply and smile at my reflection. Hair swept up with loose curls falling haphazardly, eyes bright and without doubt, so ready to walk down the aisle to the man I want to spend the rest of my life with. My gaze catches the glimmer of the wedding traditions I’m wearing. And I pick my phone back up.

I love my gift. You didn’t have to. Thank you. Can’t wait to see you.I go to hit send and then stop myself, needing to tell him in our way . So I add to the text, Unconditionally , Katy Perry.

Tears blur my vision as I think of him and run my fingers over the bracelet around my wrist. The gift he left for me on my dresser. When I opened it my mom’s brow furrowed, but I laughed at the alphabet letters linked together with alternating diamonds and sapphires.

My something blue and something new.

My eyes focus on the diamond studs in my ears that my mom wore when she married my dad and I hope we can have a marriage as successful and loving as theirs.

My something old.

My heart aches remembering the look on Had’s face last night when she offered the simple tiara for me to wear. “You’re the only sister I have left now. I’d like for you to wear it.”

My something borrowed.

I close my eyes for a moment, emotions threatening to overwhelm me as I take this all in. As I etch in my brain what this feels like—life changing and yet so full of excitement all at once. And then my mind drifts toward the man I can’t wait to spend my life with. The man who caught me that first day, and despite a few bumps, has never let me fall—except for more in love with him. Every single day.

What is Colton thinking and feeling right now? Is he jittery? Nervous? Does he feel as certain as I do?

My phone alerts me again.

Get used to being spoiled. Not too much longer now. You know how much I love you because I’m handing over my balls momentarily to type the next song title, but fuck if it’s not true – Halo , Beyonce. Whew. Balls back in place now. And hey, there’s a lot of dressed up women down here, how will I know which one is you?

The words to the song hit me the same time as his sarcasm, and I emit a sobbing laugh, my body unsure which emotion it should let rule. And I decide to let them all rule—every single one—because this is a once in a lifetime kind of day.

And because I allow myself to feel everything right now, all I want is him, desperately. I appreciate all of the guests being here, but I couldn’t care less about all of the pomp and circumstance because what matters most is the man that’s going to be waiting for me at the end of the aisle.

I pick up my phone one last time, a soft smile on my face and type, I’ll be the one in white.

The knock on the door pulls me back from my thoughts. “Come in.”

“You ready, sweetheart?”

My mom’s voice tugs at all of the emotions rolling through me, and I have to fight the burn in the back of my throat. I keep telling myself not to cry—that I’ll mess up my makeup—but I know it’s futile. I’ve shed a lifetime of tears over the past three and a half years; I’m entitled to ruin my makeup with tears of joy now.

“Yeah, I am.” I look over at my mom and my lips curve into a soft smile that reflects hers. She holds my gaze, the pride along with a tinge of sadness that she’s letting me go, is evident in her blue eyes. “Don’t start,” I warn her, because I know if she begins crying, so will I.

“I know.” She sniffles and then laughs as places her hands on both sides of my cheeks and stares into my eyes. “He’s the one, Ry. A mother knows these things.” She shakes her head, a soft smile on her face before she answers the question in my eyes. “ He dances in the rain with you. That’s how I know.”

I swallow back the tears again as I recall her advice the day we left the hospital. About how life isn’t how you survive the storm, but how you dance in the rain. And if I had any doubt about what I was about to do, it would have vanished in an instant with her simple comment.