I shake my head. “It wasn’t about me. My experience doesn’t matter—”
“Of course it does. It matters to me. You don’t get to be the only one who worries about the person you love. I get to do that, too,” she says, breaking away to better look me in the eye. “You spend so much time thinking about what’s best for me. You’re always worried about my safety and my happiness and the things I might need. Why don’t I get to do that for you? Why don’t I get to think about your happiness?”
“I am happy, love,” I say quietly. “You make me happy.”
She looks away at that, but when she meets my eyes again, she’s fighting tears. “But if you could marry me however you wanted, you’d choose to do it differently, wouldn’t you?”
“Ella,” I whisper, tugging her back into my arms. “Sweetheart, why are you crying? I don’t care about having a wedding. It doesn’t matter to me. I’ll marry you as you are right now, in the clothes we’re wearing, right where we’re standing.”
“But if you could do it however you wanted, you’d do it differently,” she says, looking up at me. “You’d do it better than that, wouldn’t you?”
“Well— Yes—” I falter. “I mean, if it were a different world, maybe. If things were different for us, if we had more time, or more resources. And maybe one day we’ll have a chance to do it over again, but right now all I—”
“No.” She shakes her head. “I don’t want to do it over again. I don’t want you to look back on our wedding day as a placeholder for something else, or for what might’ve been. I want us to do it right the first time. I want to walk down an aisle to reach you. I want you to see me in a pretty dress. I want someone to take our picture. I want you to have that. You deserve to have that.”
“But—how—”
I look up, distracted by the sounds of movement, voices. A crowd of people is swarming, moving toward us. Nazeera and Brendan lead the charge; Lily and Ian and Alia and Adam and James and Castle and Nouria and Sam and dozens of others—
They’re all holding things: bouquets of flowers and covered trays of food and colorful boxes and folded linens and—
My blood pressure seems to plummet at the sight, leaving me dangerously light-headed. I take a sharp breath, try to clear my head. When I speak, I hardly recognize my voice.
“Ella, what did you do?”
She only smiles at me, eyes shining with feeling.
“How did you find so many flowers? Where—”
“All right,” Winston says, holding up his hands. He sniffs, twice, and I see then that his eyes are red. “No more divulging secrets. We’re done here.”
Kenji, I notice, is looking determinedly away from all of us.
He clears his throat then, still staring at the sky when he says, “For what it’s worth, bro, I tried to get her to tell you. I don’t approve of this whole surprise-wedding nonsense. I told her—I said, if it were me, I’d want to know.” Finally, Kenji meets my eyes. “But she wouldn’t listen. She said it had to be a surprise. I said, You’re going to go back to your room tonight smelling like paint, and he’s going to know! The man is not an idiot! And she was like blah blah blah he’s not going to know, blah blah blah, I’m the queen of the world, blah blah—”
“KENJI.”
“What?”
Ella’s fists are clenched. She looks like she might punch him in the face. “Please. Stop speaking.”
“Why?” Kenji looks around. “What’d I say?”
“Paint,” I say, frowning as I remember. “Of course. I thought you smelled like something faintly chemical last night. I wasn’t sure what it was, though.”
“What?” Ella says, crestfallen. “How? I thought you were asleep.”
I shake my head, smiling now, though mostly for her benefit. Ella’s guilt is palpable, and multiplying quickly.
“What was the paint for?” I ask.
“Nope!” Winston claps his hands together. “We’re not doing that right now! You guys ready to get started? Good. Kenji and I will lead the way.”
TEN
Ella is holding my hand like a lifeline, grinning as we forge an unfamiliar path through the Sanctuary. Her happiness is so electric it’s contagious. I feel heavy with it, overwhelmed by it. I don’t even think my body knows what to do with this much of it.