Chapter 122

“Christian,” I groan, looking again over my shoulder at the second car following us, which is packed with four people to our two. “Why are we going to church!?”

“For the tenth time, Iris!” Christian laughs, glancing at me cheerfully. Honestly, if he weren’t so excited about this, I’d be completely freaking out. “It will be fun. You’ll like it, I promise.”

“I hate church,” I sigh, slumping down in my seat. Memories come back to me, then, of hours being bored as hell as a very young child, sitting in a pew and staring up at a crucifix, wishing I were at home or out playing.

“This church you will like,” he murmurs, slowing the car and pulling into the parking lot of what is, admittedly, a very cute little stone chapel.

“I will not,” I sigh, deciding to be stubborn. “I will refuse all joy, at least until you tell me why we’re here. What, do you have to make a last-minute confession or something?”

Christian laughs as he parks the car and a priest dressed all in black comes solemnly out of the chapel, standing with a bible in his hands. I groan when I see him, making Christian laugh harder.

“No, Iris,” he says, turning to me and reaching out to take my hand. He opens his mouth to say something but then hesitates, looking around the car like he doesn’t want to do it here. “Come on,” he says, giving me a big smile. “I’ll tell you inside.”

I laugh at him a little, unable to help it, unable to not get caught up in his eagerness. Because I rarely ever see Christian this excited about something – he’s almost boyish in his glee right now. And so, trusting him, I shrug and push open my door, climbing out as he does the same.

Christian comes around the car and takes my hand, tugging me eagerly to the church. I glance behind me, seeing the other four in our party climbing out of their car, Lucy laughing eagerly but the boys all looking more solemn than I thought they’d be. But I dismiss that – because maybe they just dislike church as much as I do.

Still – what the hell are we doing here?

“Welcome,” the priest says, giving us a little nod. “And are you prepared for…the sacrament?” He says the final two words with a great deal of doubt in his voice, especially as he lets his eyes drift over me.

I frown, and look down at myself, wondering if there’s something about a sundress and a sweatshirts and pink jelly sandals that isn’t allowed in church. I raise my eyes and give him an apologetic grimace. “Sorry,” I say, shrugging. “I didn’t have a lot of time.”

He raises his eyebrow at me and then looks sharply at Christian, a confused frown on his face.

Christian bursts out laughing, gesturing inside. “If you’d please, Father,” he says, confident and charming. “I promise, we’re ready.”

The priest nods solemnly and then steps inside the church. Christian and I follow and my mood instantly changes when we’re inside – because it is very nice in here. The chapel is old but well cared for, and the way that the sunlight streams in through the stained glass windows makes everything look very pretty – all shaded in a very lovely blue hue.

“I’ll give you a moment to prepare,” the priest murmurs, heading up towards the altar.

I glance anxiously after him, and then back towards the door, before I look up at Christian. “Chris,” I whisper, taking a step closer, shaking my head. “Please – what is this sacrament? What’s going on?”

“You haven’t figured it out yet, Iris?” he asks, taking my face in his hands and beaming down at me, like the answer is a wonderful mystery that he wants me to stumble onto myself.

“No, Chris!” I say, anxiety rolling in me now. I pout a little, looking up at him. “Please, will you just tell me? I don’t get it – and I want to know.”

The door opens behind us, afternoon light streaming in as the rest of our party starts to come into the church.

“I brought you here today, Iris,” Christian whispers, gentle, loving. “To marry you.”

My mouth falls open a little bit.

And then my jaw inches lower and lower as the moments pass, as I stare up into Christian’s beautiful face, as my brain just goes completely blank.

Because what…what did he just say?

“Utoh,” Nico says, coming close and smirking at me. “Who short-circuited the bride?”

Bride. Bride!

It’s Nico’s final word that snaps me out of it.

“Wha –“ I gasp, still staring at Chris, and then I snap my head to the side to look at Nico. “What!?”

“Christian,” Lucy groans, her shoulders slumping. “Did you seriously not tell her!?”

“B-bride!?” I stutter, whipping my gaze back to Christian’s.

“What!” he protests, laughing, looking around at our apparent witnesses. “It’s romantic!” But when he looks back at me, his face falls. “Wait, Iris, I thought you’d be…”

“Christian!” I cry out, still staring at him, completely appalled. “You brought me here to get married!? And you didn’t even ask me!?”

“Um,” Christian says, grimacing a little and glancing over at the other four. “Give us…a minute.”

Christian wraps a warm arm around my shoulder and pulls me quickly over to a line of pews, where he sits us down, bringing his face close to mine and again cupping my cheeks in his hands. “Iris, I honestly thought you’d be happy about this –“

“Christian,” I groan, tilting my head back on my neck, trying to figure out how I feel about all of this while also working very hard to not make him feel bad. “I just – I should have known, Chris!”

“You…like surprises…” he murmurs. “I thought this was…just such a good one.”

I lift my head back up and sigh, looking at him. But the way he’s looking at me now – so earnest, with his whole heart in his eyes, I can see that…

God, he really did just miscalculate.

And he really, really wants me to marry him today.

My heart swells at the thought of that. Of…of Christian, wanting to marry me.

“I guess all those times we pretended to do it as kids…” I say, giving him a little smirk and slipping a hand into his.

“Just practice,” he murmurs, squeezing my hand, staring into my eyes like I’m his whole world. “For the big day.”

“Which I should have known was today, Christian,” I whisper, shaking my head at him. I drop my chin a bit, taking a deep breath and then I gasp again when I see what I’m wearing.

“What!?” he asks, frantic, trying to figure out what’s wrong.

“Christian!” I hiss, leaning forward towards him. “I can’t get married in pink jelly sandals!”

Christian bursts out laughing, his shoulders heaving with it, his head falling back. And I groan, but I can’t help it – I get caught up in it too, laughing and leaning forward until my forehead rests against his chest. He wraps his arms around me, pulling me close.

“I love that you’re wearing those,” he murmurs, kissing my head. “Honestly, Iris, I’d marry you if you were wearing much worse.”

“It doesn’t get any worse,” I huff.

“No,” he murmurs, tilting my head up and placing a kiss on my lips. “You look beautiful. You always look beautiful, but especially today. In your sweatshirt. And your pink jellies.”

I take a moment and study his face, seriously considering it for the first time.

Honestly, is this really happening? Is this my life?

“Do you really want to marry me today, Chris? This isn’t a prank?”

He shakes his head no. “I want to marry you, Iris. I’ve wanted to marry you every day of my entire life.”

My whole heart swells with joy at those words, and my eyes drift shut.

“Please,” he whispers, cupping my cheek in his palm. “I recognize that I’ve done all of this backwards and wrong, Iris. That I shouldn’t have surprised you, should have told you –“

“Should have asked me,” I correct, a little growl in my voice.

His face bursts into a smile. “Yes, you’re right,” he says, nodding solidly. “I should have asked.”

And then my mouth falls open again in shock as he shifts his weight off the pew, going to one knee in front of me.