Chapter 8 - We Got Married—And Started Our Forever**
Our wedding was perfect.
We didn’t want anything big or fancy, just the people we loved most.
We got married in the garden of our home, surrounded by flowers and greenery, the sun shining down on us.
Clara was there, of course, beaming like a proud mother.
Richard’s friends and business partners came, as did the people I’d met through my charity, the women I’d helped who were now thriving.
My few remaining family members traveled from across the country to be there.
The girls were my bridesmaids.
Olivia wore a pale blue dress and carried a small bouquet of daisies.
Grace wore pink and scattered flower petals down the aisle.
Lily was the ring bearer, carrying the rings on a small pillow, her face serious and proud.
Richard stood at the altar, looking handsome in a dark suit, his eyes never leaving me as I walked down the aisle on the arm of an old friend of my father’s.
When I reached him, he took my hands, his eyes glistening with tears.
“You look beautiful,” he whispered.
The ceremony was short and heartfelt.
We wrote our own vows.
Richard promised to love me, to protect me and the girls, to always be by my side, to make me laugh when I was sad, to hold me when I was scared.
I promised to love him, to stand by him through everything, to give him the family he’d always wanted, to build a life full of joy and kindness with him.
When the officiant said we could kiss, Richard pulled me close and kissed me, soft and sweet, as our friends and family cheered.
Lily clapped so hard her little hands turned red.
The reception was full of laughter and music and good food.
Richard danced with each of the girls first, spinning them around the dance floor until they were dizzy and giggling.
Then he danced with me, holding me tight, his head resting on mine.
“I love you, Mrs. Bennett,” he said, smiling.
I smiled back.
“I love you too, Mr. Bennett.”
Later, as we cut the cake, Lily insisted on helping, and ended up getting frosting all over Richard’s face.
Everyone laughed, even Richard, who pretended to be outraged before kissing her frosting-covered cheek.
That night, after all the guests had left, after the girls had fallen asleep in their rooms, tired and happy, Richard and I stood on the back porch, looking out at our garden, at the home we’d built together.
He held me from behind, his arms wrapped around my waist, my ring glinting in the moonlight.
“Can you believe this is real?” he whispered.
I shook my head.
“Sometimes I still wake up and think I’m back in that storage room, that this is all a dream.”
He turned me around in his arms, cupping my face in his hands.
“It’s real, my love. We’re real. And I’m never letting anyone take this away from us.”
I kissed him, soft and slow, full of love and gratitude and hope for the future.
I knew he meant it.
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I knew we were safe.
I knew our forever was just beginning.
