Hard to Hold (True Romance) (29 page)
Anne held tight to her parents while Mike departed with his mother and father on each arm. He shot her one last look over his shoulder. Against his pale white suit and bright blue tie, his eyes seemed even more turquoise, even more intense—even more hypnotic and filled with unadulterated love.
In a matter of moments, they’d be man and wife.
His expression made no secret of his anticipation. She blew him a kiss to seal hers.
The ceremony was an eddy of emotion, tradition and laughter. By the time Michael turned to her to recite his vows, her entire body suffused with warmth. He took her hands and she couldn’t help but notice that despite the crazy stress of the wedding, the weather, and the crowd, his touch was entirely steady in hers.
By custom, she recited her vows first. Thanks to a faulty computer, the words she’d slaved over for weeks were trapped in the circuitry, so she had to go entirely off the cuff. With anyone else staring at her, she might have been nervous. But with Mike standing across from her, unconditional love radiating off his body, she had no trouble putting together what she wanted to say.
“You might not believe this, but the first thing that comes into my mind when I look at you tonight is that time we went to Target together and you started playing basketball in the aisle.”
The knowing laugh from the audience confirmed what she knew to be true: they’d gotten to this day because of how they complemented each other. His neat to her messy. His playful to her pragmatism. His crack organization skills with her boundless creativity. With these contrasting combinations, she knew they could face whatever curveballs life threw at them, from rainy weather to neurological disorders to deciding whether or not Sirus slept on her side of the bed or his.
“So on that note,” she said, taking his hands in hers. “I want to promise that I will always try to find you entertaining and I promise that I will always try to keep my sense of play because that’s what you bring out in me and is one of the greatest reasons that I love you.”
Despite the catch in her throat, she reached into the depths of her heart, remembering the moments when she’d leaned on him the most. “We’ve been through so much together. I had a profession that I loved that ended up not being a good fit anymore and I quit and went to grad school. You were there for me in ways I never imagined anyone ever could, so I promise that I will always do the same for you.”
She swallowed thickly, fighting to contain her emotion. She needed to lighten things up, so she decided to make a promise that Mike might not entirely believe, even if it was coming straight from her heart. “One of our biggest challenges we’ve faced was moving in together. Our styles are,” she said, aware of the increasing chuckling in the crowd, “different. So with everyone here as my witness, I want you to know that I will do my best to make our home as neat and as clean as I can, even beyond my abilities.”
As the crowd laughed, probably in disbelief—especially from her side of the aisle—she thought of the poem she’d selected to recite, but for the life of her, she couldn’t even remember the title. She focused on Michael, on his comfortable, casual smile, and said the most important part of her vows. “I just want to say thank-you for loving me the way you do and I promise to always, always love you.”
She was on the verge of tears, but luckily, Mike launched into his vows so that she didn’t have time to cry.
“Anne, in addition to the traditional promises that I have made today, I have three promises to make to you. First, if you promise to make the pancakes, I promise to always make the coffee.”
Anne laughed, but couldn’t cover her mouth because Mike was holding so tight to her fingers.
“Second, I promise to always put you ahead of everyone and everything in this world.”
Her eyes watered and at that moment, she knew that if she would have insisted, he would have skipped the concert in Colorado. But she was incredibly glad that she had not taken away his joy out of nerves or fear or selfishness. Instead, she’d earned another sliver of his love. She couldn’t ask for more, yet he went on, “Not even the forlorn eyes of a four-foot-tall Weimaraner can steer me wrong, with God as my witness.”
Anne’s eyes misted. All because he’d told her she was more important than a dog.
Weddings really were a torturous business. Beautiful, but torturous.
“And finally,” he said, giving her hands a tentative squeeze, “when you and I first moved in together, I knew that this was a huge decision. I also knew right then and there that I was not going to want to ever go back to being alone. So to paraphrase the great philosopher Homer J. Simpson, I’m gonna hug you, and kiss you, and then I’ll never be able to let you go. But I was afraid that you would not let me do so, but not only did you, but you have returned that feeling each and every day. So if you will let me, I will hold you, hug you, kiss you, and never let you go for the rest of our lives. You are my soul mate.”
The rest of the ceremony was a blur. The circling. The breaking glass. The shouts of
mazel tov
. Before she knew it, the DJ had turned on the Wilco song that she and Mike had chosen for their exit entitled, “I’m the Man Who Loves You.”
And now the world knew that he was—and that she loved him just as deeply in return.
They were married. Husband and wife. With each step they took toward the
yichud
room where they would, by Jewish tradition, spend the first few moments of their married life in seclusion, Anne realized that her entire life had changed—for the better.
They entered the same room they’d used to sign the
ketubah,
only now it was empty of everything except a table, a small tray of food, two wineglasses, and a bottle of her favorite red. After promising to return for them in ten minutes, the rabbi left.
Anne couldn’t help but think of the line from one of Mike’s favorite films,
The Candidate
.
“So, what do we do now?” she asked, smiling.
Mike’s breath eased out of his lungs like a long-held sigh. “Well, I’m no Robert Redford, but we’ve just made it through the campaign of our lives. Kiss me.”
Without hesitation, she did exactly as he asked.
“
S
IRUS, SIT
!”
M
IKE ORDERED
.
The dog wiggled her way into her best impersonation of obedience, her mouth open and panting. He was holding her absolute favorite treat in the universe, which luckily, was easy to find in their Brooklyn neighborhood.
“Mike, stop torturing the dog and give her the ice cream,” Anne said, swiping a lick of her own confection.
He set down the cup of soft serve and the dog immediately dug in until her muzzle was covered in creamy goodness. He joined Anne on the step outside their nineteenth century brownstone and enjoyed the cool chocolate on his tongue and the feel of his wife sidling up closer to him. The tree-lined street brimmed with activity, not from cars, but with children dashing along the sidewalk ahead of their mothers’ strollers on the way to the park or to the main drag only a few blocks up where he’d purchased their ice cream.
“That’s going to be us someday,” Mike said, eyeing a father across the street who had his son perched on his shoulder.
“I don’t think I could carry you on my shoulders,” Anne teased.
He nudged her ice-cream cone so that a smudge of white cream tipped her nose. She protested, but wiped it off and smeared her hand on his shirt. Only fair, he supposed.
“I meant the kids,” he said.
“I know,” she replied, hooking her arm in his. “I hope they have your eyes.”
“I hope they have my sense of neatness.”
“So do I,” Anne agreed. “Then they can do my share of the cleaning.”
He chuckled, turning so that he could wrap his arms completely around her while they finished up their frozen treats. Sirus had already demolished hers and was nosing around for a taste of his, which he denied. Luckily, the little girl from down the block appeared and Sirus decided that allowing the child to pat her head was more interesting than begging for more ice cream.
Mike waved to the child’s mother and then settled into holding Anne. He remembered the time when he’d thought a moment like this would be impossible—when his Tourette’s would have made him a hard man to hold.
Apparently, all he’d had to do was find the right woman because at this moment, all he wanted to do was hold her for the rest of his life.
To Michael and Anne, for proving that true love
isn’t something you just read about in storybooks.
To Alison, Judith, Olivia,
and Michele, for sharing the ride.
To Anne-Marie Carroll, for so many things,
I can’t even begin to list them all . . .
but in this case, for her eagle eye.
W
ELCOME TO
T
RUE
V
OWS
!
Since I’ve been reading and writing romance for . . . well, longer than I care to admit . . . I know that it’s a rare and wonderful experience when something entirely new breaks into our beloved genre. That’s what TRUE VOWS is—something new! Non-romance readers sometimes scoff at romance novels because they think, “That stuff never happens in real life.” These books prove that it does happen . . . and when it does, it’s wonderful.
To those of you who are seasoned romance readers—thank you for taking a chance on this new concept. I hope the books will appeal to that part of you that embraces the incredible power of love in the face of conflicts both big and small. To those of you who are new to the genre, but who love a good true-life story— welcome! I hope TRUE VOWS will satisfy your expectations and hook you permanently into reading more of this wonderful genre.
Working with Anne Miller and Mike Davoli to bring a romanticized version of their courtship to the page was a joy and an honor. I can only hope that I’ve done justice to this amazing couple. Anne is the kind of heroine I like to write about. She’s strong, independent, and ambitious, but also nurturing and creative. Mike is the quintessential romantic hero—confident, successful, smart, and funny. And he cleans! I mean, really, what more could a woman want?
Like the real people they are, they aren’t perfect. Their romantic road had some speed bumps, which is what made this such a great story to tell. I can report, however, that the happy ending you will experience at the end of the book is entirely real. And Sirus really is as charming in person as she is in the book.
Lastly, I want to give a shout out to Michele Matrisciani, Olivia Rupprecht (aka Mallory Rush), Veronica Blake, Peter Vegso, and the entire team at HCI Books for giving me the opportunity to be a part of this ground-breaking project. It’s been a challenge and a joy.
I encourage you to visit the official TRUE VOWS site,
www.truevowsbooks.com
, to interact with the couples and novelists, learn the latest news on the TRUE VOWS line, read about the next books in the series, and even have the opportunity to tell HCI Books your true love story for a chance to be the subject of a future TRUE VOWS book.
Happy reading,
