Logan
ONE MONTH LATER
Today is the day when Arya finally becomes my legally wed wife. I have invited a good number of guests from human society, especially my long-term comrades that I have lived around and worked with. We hired the best events planners company to set up the wedding decor and they did their best.
This is going to be a formal and modern ceremony where my pack members are expected to act as civilized and not create anything suspicious to the humans. I am sure they can do that.
I nod my thanks to the welcoming party at the reception and continue with Jordan toward the barn-like tent.
A string quartet is playing “Halo” by Beyoncé while I wait for Miss Arya Caverly.
Everyone has gone all out; the pavilion looks opulent. Jordan and I are seated at the front of several rows of gold chairs, which are filling up fast. I stare at the scene in front of me, noting all the details, hoping it will distract me from my nerves. A pale pink carpet leads to an impressive, arched flowery bower pitched at the water’s edge. It’s made of white and pink roses, intertwined with ivy and pale pink peonies that remind me of Arya’s blushing cheeks.
We got a reverend to officiate the ceremony. He’s standing in his designated place patiently waiting, like us. It’s a beautiful day to get married. One of the official photographers is stationed near the reverend and her lens is directed at me. I look away and turn to my beta who is also my best man. “You’ve got the rings?” I ask, probably for the tenth time.
“Yes,” he hisses.
I turn and survey our guests as they arrive, nodding and waving to those I know.
Katherine is walking down the central aisle, dressed in a pale pink explosion of tulle. Behind her, Penelope looks sleek and elegant in a pale pink silk gown.
Arya.
My mouth dries.
She’s stunning.
She’s in a fitted white lace dress, her shoulders bare but for a gossamer-thin veil. Her hair is pinned in an updo with a few tendrils framing her beautiful face. Her bridal bouquet is intricate-made of pink and white roses woven together. Eric walks by her side, his hand covering hers as she grips his arm, and it’s obvious he’s holding back his tears.
Oh shit. The knot tightens in my throat.
Arya’s eyes meet mine, and beneath her veil her face lights up like a summer’s day, her smile electrifying.
They walk up beside us and Arya passes her bouquet to Penelope, who stands with Katherine. Eric raises Ana’s veil and kisses her cheek. “I love you, Arya,” I hear him say, his voice hoarse, and, turning to me, he gives me Arya’s hand. Our eyes meet, his glistening, and I have to look away because his expression may be my undoing. Such a responsible brother and father deserves more than thus happiness of seeing his little sister reach this day.
“Hi,” I say to my bride because that’s all I’m capable of right now.
“Hi,” she replies and squeezes my hand.
“You look lovely.”
“So do you.” She grins, and all my nerves melt away, as does the music, and it’s just Arya and me and Reverend Douglas. He clears his throat, commanding everybody’s attention, and the wedding begins.
“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to witness the joining in matrimony of Logan Conley and Arya Lowell.” The good reverend smiles benevolently down at both of us, and I tighten my hold on Arya’s hand.
He asks the congregation if anyone knows of any impediment to our marriage.
I wait nervously for a voice to pop up from the congregation. Fortunately, Arya distracts me by glancing back at the crowd. When no one says anything, a collective sigh of relief flutters through the gathering, followed by muffled chuckles and titters. Arya peeks up at me, her eyes sparkling in amusement.
“Phew,” I mouth.
Arya stifles her smile.
Reverend Douglas asks us each, in turn, to declare that there’s no legal reason why we can’t be joined in marriage.
As he addresses us about the seriousness of our commitment to each other, the burning sensation returns to my throat. Arya watches him, absorbed, and I notice she’s wearing elegant drop pearl earrings I’ve not seen before. I wonder if they are a present from her family or friends.
“And now I invite both of you to offer your vows to each other.” He looks encouragingly at me. “Logan?”
I take a deep breath and gazing at the love of my life, I recite my vows from memory, my words ringing out over the throng: “I, Logan Conley, do take thee, Arya Lowell, to be my lawfully wedded wife. I solemnly vow that I will safeguard, and hold dear and deep in my heart, our union and you. I promise to love you faithfully, forsaking all others, through the good times and the bad, in sickness and in health, regardless of where life takes us. I will protect you, trust you, and respect you.”
Tears glimmer in Arya’s eyes and the tip of her nose turns a fetching pink.
“I will share your joys and sorrows and comfort you in times of need. I promise to cherish you and uphold your hopes and dreams and keep you safe at my side. All that is mine is now yours. I give you my hand, my heart, and my love, from this moment on, for as long as we both shall live.”
Arya wipes a tear from her eye, and I take a deep breath, relieved that I’ve remembered the words.
“Arya?” the good reverend prompts her. From beneath her sleeve, she takes a small slip of pink paper and reads:
“I, Arya Lowell, do take thee, Logan Conley, to be my lawfully wedded husband. I give you my solemn vow to be your faithful partner, in sickness and in health, to stand by your side in good times and in bad, to share your joy as well as your sorrow.” She gazes up at me and continues her vows without reading, and I stop breathing. “I promise to love you unconditionally, to support you in your goals and dreams, to honour and respect you, to laugh with you and cry with you, to share my hopes and dreams with you, and bring you solace in times of need. And to cherish you for as long as we both shall live.” She blinks back her tears, and I fight mine. You two will now exchange rings as a symbol of your abiding love for each other. A ring is a constant circle. It is unbroken and everlasting, a symbol of perpetual unity. So, too, will be your commitment to each other and this marriage, from this day forth, until death do you part.
“Logan, place the ring on Arya’s finger.” Jordan hands me Arya’s ring and I position it at the tip of Arya’s left ring finger.
“Repeat after me,” Reverend Douglas says. “Arya, I give you this ring as a sign of our enduring faith in each other, our unity and our everlasting love.”
I repeat the words, loud and clear, and slip the ring fully onto Arya’s finger.
“Arya, place the ring on Logan’s finger,” Reverend Douglas says. Jordan flashes a grin at Aryaa and passes her my ring.
“Repeat after me,” the reverend continues. “Logan, I give you this ring as a sign of our enduring faith in each other, our unity and our everlasting love.”
Arya’s words sound out sweetly for the rest of the congregation to hear, and she slips the ring onto my finger.
Reverend Douglas clasps both of our hands in his and says in a booming voice to our audience, “Love is the reason we are here. Marriage is founded on love. These two young people have pledged their everlasting love to each other. We honour them and wish them strength, courage, and trust to grow together, learn from each other and remain true to each other on the path that life takes them.
“Logan and Arya, you two have agreed to be married and to live together in matrimony. You have declared your love for each other and promised to uphold that love with your vows. With the power vested in me by the state, I now declare you husband and wife.” He releases our hands and Arya beams up at me.
Wife.
Mine.
My heart soars.
“You may now kiss the bride,” Reverend Douglas says with a huge grin.
“Finally,” I whisper, and pull her into my arms, flush against me, and plant a soft kiss on her lips.
There are tiny buttons at the back of her dress and I fantasize about slowly undoing them. I ignore the cheers and applause from our guests, as my body comes alive. “You look beautiful, Arya.” I caress her face. “Don’t let anyone take that dress off but me, understand?” I gaze down at her, trying to convey a sensual promise. She nods, her eyes darkening with desire.
Oh, Arya.
A mass of guests come to us to congratulate us. I shake hands with the reverend to thank him. The whole atmosphere is warm from all the love of our guests surrounding us. I feel so complete with my wife beside me. Nothing can separate us now.
“I am pregnant,” she whispers.
Everything in the world burs, and I freeze for a moment. Arya gives me a nervous smile.
“What? Are you sure?” I ask, trying to keep my voice a whisper. She nods reverently.
“I did a test and also went to a doctor. I am sure,” she responds.
I just don’t know what to say. I just stare at her wide-eyed. I know we were not using any kind of birth control the entire time we were together, and I should have expected it, but damn! This is a shock to me.
“This baby is my wedding gift to you, ” she says, holding my hand in hers.
Shit! I am going to be a father!
A wave of excitement surges through me and I lift my wife off the ground and swing her around.
I am going to be a dad!
An heir!
Arya giggles down at me. All our guests watch us in clear amazement.
“I am going to be a father! ” I say out loud, finding it so hard not to say it. The whole crowd bursts into applause of congratulations. Arya holds onto me tight, smiling at them.
“Today, I get to receive double blessings. I feel like the luckiest man alive! “