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The earth radiated the warmth of the sun, and everything seemed to be
given a new life. Fresh grass was sprouting, lush and verdant. The
sun's rays enveloped newly bare skin and seemed to smile down at the
world; tulips and roses had begun to bloom.
It was ironic, Rory thought, that the first day that felt warm and welcoming was Tristan's wedding day. As she stood outside the church, head tilted up toward the sun, she thought she may have found peace with the idea. If the world accepted it, who was she to disagree?
That was the thing. It had been over two months since that final talk with Tristan, the one that had put the nails in the coffin of that relationship, taken any remaining air supply, and buried it alive.
And that was the problem, really. For every word spoken aloud, for every eye roll and casual joke, there was a look, a touch, a thought, that said otherwise. Coming to terms with your feelings and promising you wouldn't feel them anymore didn't make them go away.
Today was her three-month anniversary with Noel. She tried to focus on that, tried to rid herself of any negativity toward the marriage, tried to be a better person.
And then a limousine pulled up and Tristan stepped out, an arm slung casually around the shoulders of his best man, a smile tweaking the corner of his lips. His eyes locked onto Rory's and ever across the fifty yards, all the tension and hidden feeling seemed to boil to the surface.
Then the moment was over, and Tristan had looked away, and was heading up the church steps.
Rory turned her face up to the sun again, letting her eyelids close as the heat stung at her skin.
Yes, even sunshine burned sometimes.
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Tristan glanced around the church nervously as they started the bridal march. It was hard to ignore Rory standing so close to him and he cursed the gods that had made Amelie choose Rory to be a bridesmaid.
Rory looked gorgeous, of course. She always did, even that day in March where she'd been sick, laying around in her sweats and a T-shirt.
Tristan winced imperceptibly as he realized where his thoughts were going and turned to the back of the church expectantly. This was the day he'd remember forever, he reminded himself. There was no use in thinking of Rory now.
His breath hitched as Amelie appeared, arm in arm with her father, and he couldn't help but smile when he realized she must've won at least one argument with her designer- the veil was already thrown back.
He gazed at her and realized he'd never been so much in love as he was at this moment. Amelie, with that steady smile and shining eyes already pooling with tears, approaching slowly, a bundle of nerves and excitement.
God, she was beautiful.
Tristan shifted a little as she approached, not completely sure why. He caught Rory's gaze and looked away quickly. It didn't matter, though. She was watching Amelie as well, a small smile playing on her face.
This was it, Tristan realized. This was his last chance to make everything right.
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"You know, I've never been good with speeches," Tristan murmured as the crowd laughed, "So I figured I'd cheat a little. I looked up some quotes, hoping something would stir a muse that as of yet I haven't found inside myself. Unfortunately, that didn't happen. But I did find a quote. 'Love is like growing --it's hard to feel, sometimes, and even harder to see, but when you look back on it, you realize how far you've come.' I thought it kind of summed up our relationship perfectly."
Tristan took Amelie's hands in his and paused. "It's funny, because I've really only known you for a few years. But in that time, our relationship has grown into something incomparable. When I look into your eyes, I see our past. In your heart I see our future. In your gestures, I see our lives. I want to spend the rest of mine with you, Amelie, and I want to share yours. I want to be there for you, whether it's for the good or the bad, the happy or the sad, the entirety. If I were to die tomorrow, Amelie, I'd die happy. I'd die feeling I had missed out, and I'd die wondering what could've been, but I'd die with your love and your touch and your beauty forever engrained in my mind. I'll be there for you, Amelie. I want this more than you can ever imagine."
The priest cleared his throat after a minute and turned to Tristan. "Tristan DuGrey, do you take Amelie Rousseau to be your wife? Do you promise to love, honor, cherish and protect her, forsaking all others and holding only to her forevermore?"
Tristan swallowed, staring into Amelie's eyes. Rory's face flickered in his mind, but he smiled at Amelie. "I do."
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The reception was lavish yet fairly low-key, with the exception of the ABC media box in the corner of the ballroom. Rory sat in her chair at the head table uncomfortably as Tristan and Amelie ate, exchanging whispers and laughter.
Tristan would glance over at her occasionally, feeling horrible for putting her in such a position.
"Lets dance," Amelie whispered, standing and tugging on Tristan's arm.
The music selection had been good, but not ace, and Tristan suspected they'd given the wedding planner a bit too much free reign. The song in question was Andy Grigg's "She's More," and Tristan found it a bit ironic that this would be the first song he danced to with his new wife.
But still, he followed her, his eyes lighting on Rory as they made their way out to the dance floor. He enveloped Amelie in his arms and started to sway. He closed his eyes as if hoping it would block out the lyrics.
"I like blue eyes. Hers are green. Not like the woman of my dreams, and her hair's not quite as long as I had planned."
Blue met blue across the dance floor and Tristan shivered at Rory's intense gaze. He felt Amelie burrow into his chest as the song continued, and even though he knew all eyes were on him and Amelie, he couldn't tear his eyes from the blue-eyed girl across the room.
"I love you," Amelie murmured against him, wrapping her arms tighter around his neck as she pulled his head down for a kiss.
Tristan sighed, dropping a light kiss on Amelie's lips, his eyes still on Rory. "I love you, too, Mrs. DuGrey."
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