text: “...Speak now, or forever hold your peace.” The pastor's words reverberated throughout the small building, louder and more clear than any of the others he had spoken that day. As Tristan looked at the woman holding tightly to his hands, he couldn't remember including that part in the vows. It was antiquated, out of date and something no one did anymore...right? But now, with the question hanging in the air like the scent of freedom and happiness, he was inundated with a thousand reasons why the people at the front of the room shouldn't be joined together for the rest of their lives... He looked out over the church, a droplet of sweat slipping down his temple. Scanning, his eyes at last landed on a slender form with long, honey blond hair. Tessa. His heart lurched at the same time that his mind sped backwards. He was six, Tessa five, and she glared at him with sparking blue eyes, her hands on her hips. “I'm gonna marry you one day, Tristan Rawlings, just you wait. And then you have to ask to kiss me first.” Tristan grinned. “That's not how it works, Tess. When we get married, I get to kiss you whenever I want.” Her hand tightened into a tiny fist, which she held up to him with a threatening glower. “I'd like to see you try.” He put his hand up to her fist and gently worked her fingers open until they were palm to palm. “I'm sorry, Tessa. I promise I'll ask next time.” With narrowed eyes, she squinted back at him, softening. “You better.” Memories filtered through like an old photo album, until Tristan, standing sweating in front of a hundred people, landed on another one in particular. Sweet sixteen, and Tessa Marlowe was the star of the hour, glamorous and glowing. Tristan watched as she blew out her candles and laughed, eyes sparkling, the dimple to the side of her mouth making an appearance just to stab him in the heart. Matty Jenkins put his hand on Tessa's waist, and looked over his shoulder to where Tristan stood in the corner of the room, hands clenched in fists at his sides. Matty's filthy paws shouldn't be allowed anywhere near Tessa, and Tristan knew a deep urge to remove both of them violently. It was later in the evening, when he overheard Matty informing the other guys of what he expected that night, that Tristan felt the urge spill over into a white hot rage that blinded him until someone much larger pulled him off a trembling, bloody lipped Matty sprawled in the dirt. Tristan's heart dropped when he saw Tessa, eyes wide with shock and concern. He was gonna pay for his loss of control, and only he knew how deeply. But then, to his confusion, she stepped towards him, her hand outstretched. He stood motionless, afraid any movement would wake her to the mistake she was making. Her fingers, feather light, touched his cheek, the skin hot where Matty must have got a swing to land before Tristan tackled him to the ground. Tristan swallowed, then spoke hoarsely. “I'm sorry, Tess. He just - he said - ” Her thumb brushed his bottom lip. “I heard what he said.” Her eyes, silver-blue in the moonlight, flicked up to meet his, and his breath hitched. Her lips twitched upwards in a smirk. “My knight in shining armor.” The smirk faded, leaving her expression open and unguarded. Then, with one hand on his arm, she went up on her tiptoes and leaned in, brushing her lips ever so gently over the bruise on his cheekbone. She stepped back, her hand slipping down his arm to join their fingers, and tugged him behind her as she stepped barefoot through the yard, past Matty with her chin lifted high, and away into the house. The party was forgotten while she smiled shyly at him and held ice to his cheek. Looking up into his face, she pursed her lips to the side in contemplation. “I don't know what I was thinking. Going out with Matty, I mean.” “Eh, we all make mistakes sometimes. I knew you'd come back around in time. I mean,” he forced a grin, even though her nearness was wreaking havoc on his pulse, “you did say you were gonna marry me one day.” She swatted his arm and laughed, even as her cheeks went pink. “Tristan Rawlings. I was five years old.” He caught her hand in his. “Five and a half. Plenty old enough to know what's best for you.” Eyes lowered, she giggled, but he could tell it wasn't a real laugh. With one finger, he tipped her chin up so he could see her face. “What's wrong, Tess?” She shook her head quickly, as though shaking off a thought, but he could see a glimmer of a tear in her eye. “It's nothing. Thanks, Tris, for being my friend.” In his teenaged mind, Tristan had felt those words as though she had slapped him. Friend zoned, and just as he thought he was getting somewhere. But now, after years with a dark haired woman who constantly made him feel that he would never measure up, he saw Tess's face through different eyes, and thought that maybe, just maybe, she had defined him as a friend purely to protect herself. He thought back to the night before, at the rehearsal dinner, where he had seen her slip away and followed her without even thinking twice. She moved quickly to the gazebo in the center of the grassy park, and stood with her hands on the railing looking over the water. The sun was setting in front of her, and made a halo of gold and pink around her, reflecting off the water to sparkle and shimmer in a frame that fit her beauty. Where had that thought come from? No sooner had he questioned his thoughts than his shoulders relaxed with the unequivocal knowledge that it was true. His best friend was beautiful. She always had been and he'd always known it. Just because he was set to tie his life to someone who would punish him for even allowing those thoughts to rise to the surface didn't make them untrue. With long, even strides, he made his way through the soft grass and joined her at the railing, hands in the pockets of his slacks as he leaned a shoulder against a post. When she looked up at him, meeting his curious gaze, his heart constricted in his chest. A tear, glinting in the light, trickled down her cheek, and she made no move to erase it. “Tess?” Her name was all he could get out, an uneasy feeling rendering his mind blank except for pain and concern. She smiled, and it was a knife twisting. “It's okay, Tristan. I'm okay. Just promise me something?” “Anything,” he breathed out. A dry chuckle was her first response. “Don't over commit, Rawlings.” “I trust you, Marlowe. More than anyone else.” She shook her head and looked back out over the water, a shuddering sigh causing her shoulders to tremble. Then she looked back over at him, and he was taken aback by the fury in her eyes. “You don't get to say that to me anymore, Tristan Rawlings. Not while that she-beast is in there waiting to swallow you whole.” He stood up straight and took a step back. “Whoa, Tessa, c'mon, that's not fair.” She took an aggressive step towards him and stabbed a finger into his chest. “No. It is more than fair. You know it as well as I do. You're just too blinded by propriety and what your mother wants to recognize it. Listen to what you just said to me. You're about to promise your life to someone you don't even trust. You're about to give your heart away to someone who you know won't value it and treasure it like the gift that it is. She's mean to everyone around you, Tristan. And even sometimes to you, she just covers it with just enough sugar that you're blinded.” She drew in a long, deep breath, closing her eyes briefly before opening them to look directly into his, searing his soul with the depth of sincerity and love he saw there. “So, promise me that you'll think long and hard about this tonight, about her. About love. Promise me you'll choose love, not obligation.” It was his turn to draw in a shaky breath at the enormity of what she was saying. “Tess, I - ” One corner of her mouth lifted and she moved her hand to cup his cheek. “It's okay, Tris. If you choose her, if she is what you truly want...it's okay. Really. I just want you to be happy.” Her hand dropped and she took a step back, the cold air rushing between them like a chasm. “I'm gonna head home now.” Desperation clawed at him, and he didn't even know why. “I'll see you tomorrow?” Her head tilted to the side and she looked up at him, eyes searching his face. “If that's what you want.” “Please, Tess. You have to be there.” He swallowed any more words that wanted to come before he started begging. Another searching look, and then she nodded. “I will. 'Bye, Tristan.” She turned her back to him and her sandaled feet made swishing sounds in the grass as she moved away with a jarring finality. Why did he suddenly hurt all over? And now, his eyes found hers across the heads of the entire congregation, and he was moving towards her, his feet carrying him as though his heart had taken his body captive. There was a rush of shocked whispers, his mother calling his name, his bride swearing and demanding he stop whatever ridiculous notion he had. At the back of the church, she stood by the door as though keeping escape close to hand. It seemed an eternity just to get to her side, not because of the disapproving stares and the recrimination that was bound to follow, but because he found that he had to be near her, he needed to touch her, to feel her heart close to his own. A foot away now, he held out his hand, and her fingers slipped over his palm before threading through his. “I choose love,” he whispered. “I choose you.” One tear trickled down her cheek and she let out a choking laugh as his thumb caught the silvery moisture before it dropped. “I chose you a long time ago.” “I know that now. It just took me a little longer to realize you felt the same as me.” With a glance over his shoulder at the fuming woman in white, he said quietly, “Let's get outta here.” “I thought you'd never ask.” She grinned up at him, and of one accord, hands clasped tight, they ran out the back doors. At the back of the church, after tugging the bow tie loose and flinging it into the dirt, he tugged Tessa closer and let his eyes roam over her face, lingering on her lips. “Tess.” “Yes, Tristan?” “As per my promise twenty years ago, I just wanted to let you know that I'm going to kiss you now.” Her sky blue eyes held his gaze. “Can I say something first?” He swallowed. “As long as you make it quick.” Her breath of laughter was tantalizingly close. “I changed my mind. You don't ever have to ask me first again.” And so he didn't.