He grabs my hand and holds the ring over my ring finger. Then he hesitates as he realizes the thorns are going to cut into my skin as he puts it on.
“Do it,” I say, not able to think of a better way to represent our relationship than with this ring. A ring of both thorns and petals—a ring of pain and beauty.
He slides the ring onto my fingers, producing little droplets of blood as it slides in place. Then he stands, takes me in his arms, and we kiss.
It’s a kiss I never thought I’d experience—a kiss of a man who wants to marry me. A man I want to marry despite knowing the pain this will cause us both.
I feel the tears welling as his tongue pushes between my lips, but I hold them back. I won’t cry in this moment. I won’t allow any sadness to warp this memory.
I wrap my arms around his neck and pretend he just proposed to me in the most romantic way. It may not have been sweet, but it was honest, raw, and true. It made me fall for him even more.
Finally, he sets me down, releasing my lips. We smile at each other, before Langston takes my hand, and we start walking back to town. I make him stop at the same spot we did on the way up and grab more flowers to make him a ring too. Finally, we head back into town to go back to the church to get married.
Before we make it to the church, Langston stops at a small shop in the middle of town. He turns me in the direction, and I smile.
“Give me just a minute,” I say as he hands me some cash and I step into the small dress shop. When I was marrying Maxwell, I didn’t care what I looked like, but now that I’m marrying Langston, I have this urge to get married in a white dress.
Most of the dresses in the small shop are beautiful vibrant patterns of the traditional Andean culture, to the point where I almost give up on finding a white dress. I decide to settle on any dress when I spot white lace fabric at the back of the store. The dress is simple—a low v-neck with thin straps and not much shape. It’s perfect.
I pay for the dress and quickly change at the back of the store. I can’t do much about my wet hair except scrunch it and hope it dries in beautiful waves instead of a frizz ball. Then I step outside, where Langston is waiting for me in a loose-fitting white long-sleeved shirt and dark jeans.
I drool just looking at him.
“Ready to be my wife?”
I blush, still not sure what being his wife means, but I’m excited to find out.
Together we walk back into the church, where surprisingl
y, Maxwell is still sitting.
The woman behind the piano starts playing, and the priest is once again at the far end of the aisle. How did they know?
We make it to the end when I realize that this won’t be legal. “We didn’t file for a marriage license.”
“Shit,” Langston curses, now realizing that we are going to need that.
Maxwell steps up, holding a piece of paper out to us. “Actually, I went back to the registrar when you took off with Langston assuming that you would be needing this and filed for you.”
We both stare at him, completely confused why he’s helping us.
“I didn’t want to have to wait for you two to get your shit together. The sooner you’re married, the sooner we can finish what we came here for,” Maxwell says.
I suspect he’s here to steal the treasure once we have it. But until then, he could be of some use to us.
Langston pockets the piece of paper, and then the priest begins. I get lost in Langston’s eyes as the priest speaks, prompting Langston to lean in and whisper in my ear, “If you want to marry me, you have to say ‘I do.’”
“I do,” I say, biting my lip.
Then Langston holds out his hand, and I place the ring on his finger, drawing a trickle of blood as I push it on.
It all happens so fast that I’m not sure it’s real. That is until Langston kisses me like he owns me. And for the first time, he actually does.
16
Langston
I’m a fucking married man.