The Groom Wanted Seconds: A Novella by Shirley Jump

A man who loves the real me, not the fiction we all put forward in the beginning.”
    “I have always loved the real you, Rebecca, but I didn’t always tell you or show it. I let those goals get in the way of us. I can’t promise to never do that again, but I can promise I will always try to keep this first.” He pulled a photo strip out of his shirt pocket and held it up. She recognized the images in a second, even though the strip was a little crumpled. Three serious poses, and then the last one, Jeremy in a rare moment of being silly.
    “That’s my favorite picture of you,” she said, her voice soft and quiet.
    “I’ve been keeping it over my desk, to remind myself not to take work too seriously. That the most important thing in the world is relationships with the people I love.”
    She grinned. “Maybe I should get you a glittery feather pen.”
    He chuckled. “It’d be a hit at the office.”
    She took his hands in hers and held them tight, looking into Jeremy’s steady blue eyes. She saw depth there, and truth. He was a man with flaws, like any man, but one with true character. She hadn’t valued that, not until now. “I love you, Jeremy Hamilton, and I can’t imagine spending a single day of my life without you. I want to jump off that bridge with you.”
    A grin quirked up one side of his face. “Are you proposing to me?”
    She nodded. “Really badly, too.”
    “Oh, Rebecca.” Then he shook his head, his features somber, his eyes shadowed. “I can’t let you do that.”
    The words hit her hard and swift, a sledgehammer to the gut. “Oh. Okay.” She swallowed and started to step away, but Jeremy tugged her back.
    “I can’t let you do that, because…every woman deserves a proper proposal.” He glanced up, then back at her. “And if we hurry, I can do it right. Come on, Rebecca.”
    They dashed back the way they’d come, down the concrete path of the bridge, passing painted Smoot markers until they’d reached the exact spot between 182 and 183 again. The sun had nearly finished setting, washing Boston’s sky with pink and purple. Jeremy dropped to one knee, then took Rebecca’s left hand in his. He reached in his pocket and fished out a ring box, flipping back the lid with his thumb. A princess cut diamond winked back from the black velvet bed.
    She gasped. “Is that what I think it is?”
    He nodded. “I’ve been carrying it around for months.”
    “You have? Why?”
    “Because if there was even a snowball’s chance in hell that you’d marry me, I was determined to do this right. So here I am, trying again.” He took a deep breath, then looked up at her. “I love you more than I ever imagined loving anyone. I want to share every sunset I can with you, for the rest of our lives. Will you marry me, Rebecca?”
    “Yes,” she said, nodding, tears spilling over her lashes and down her cheeks, “yes, I will.”
    He tugged out the ring, then slid it onto her finger. The diamond caught the last rays of light and flickered gold across her features. He got to his feet and took her hand. In his, her delicate fingers felt oh so right. Everything about her fit like that with him, perfect.
    Across from them, the sun had finished its journey, replaced by the pale light of the moon and the twinkle of early evening stars, as if the sky was celebrating with them. All across Boston, streetlights and apartment lights flickered on, like fireflies dancing across the cityscape.
    A perfect moment, timed to the last second with the heavens aligned just right, just as Jeremy had pictured. He leaned over and kissed Rebecca, her lips sweet and warm and everything he ever needed or wanted. And right there and then, Jeremy Hamilton knew exactly how it felt to land a Kickflip McTwister.
     
     
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