Wedding Crasher

My hands were sweaty and shaking as I clutched my bouquet of roses tightly, trying not to drop them on the alter. My fiancé was staring at me, a slight sheen of sweat covering his face, almost as if he felt just as sick as me. What were we getting ourselves into? Is this really what we wanted?

As if it were planned, the doors at the back of the church burst open, smacking into the walls with a bang. I finally dropped my bouquet as I whirled around. The intruder was tall, dark haired, and tanned from the late summer sun that was streaming through the stained glass windows. I gasped and tried not to fall over; I knew him.

My vision tunneled and I was starting to see black spots in front of me. My breath was shallow and uneven. My hand went to my sweetheart neckline as I tried to keep my racing heart from beating out of my chest. Was I dreaming? Or was this really the man that I always thought would be up here with me coming toward me?

My mother squeaked like a mouse and raced up to the alter. She put herself in between him and I and held up her hand. “You are not welcome here.” She said. “This is her big day and I will not have you ruin it like you’ve tried to ruin her entire life before!”

“Mom.” I breathed out quietly. She stayed where she was, chest heaving with rage as she tried to protect me. “Mom.” I said again, this time with more meaning.

She whirled around to face me, eyebrows in her hairline. “Let him through.” I said.

She searched my face for a long time. Sighing deeply and shaking her head, she made her way back to her seat in the front pew.

“Um, honey?” My fiancé said as he grabbed hold of my elbow. “What is going on here?”

“I’m sorry, I just need a moment. Please.”

I started at the tips of his tennis shoes, slowly traveling up his slim dark jeans, taking in the view of his light gray shirt where it met his waist. I drank in the way the t-shirt clung to his torso in all the right places and how his shoulders looked just as broad as I remembered. A small gold chain hung around his neck. There was a day’s stubble around his mouth. His mouth was the same, full and strong, begging you to take a bite. His gray eyes were dark and stormy with emotions that I recognized all too easily. His dark hair was longer than I remembered. It had been almost ten years.

I finally met his eyes full on with my own. I held my chin up high, my mouth parting on its own as I tried to find something to say. And then I knew at once what the right thing was. I smiled bigger than I had in several years and a giggle burst out of my chest.

“Yes.” I said.