A/N: I'm going off-line until after the new year, so I shall leave you with this :)
The title is a song from the musical 'Carousel,' you can listen to it if you want, but it's not really connected. Just my little pun to myself.
Read and review and have a fabulous holiday season!
When I marry Mr. Snow, it will be at Christmastime, under the trees in Regent's Park, the same place I proposed three months ago.
(Hands holding his to stop them shaking, more nervous than I've ever known myself to be. He couldn't speak after, just made noises at me and smiled. I laughed and said, "Use your words, Snow," and he stepped closer and kissed me. "You want to keep me?" he whispered. "I never want to give you up," I whispered back.)
We were worried it would be cold, but Bunce has come up with a complicated and ingenious system involving decorative heat lamps and the words It's getting hot in here.
She will also be the officiant. Snow believes there's nothing she can't do, and I'm inclined to agree with him.
Both our families will be there: Daphne and Father and the kids, and all the Bunces. There will be a small party back at their house after, because of course there has to be food involved, and our friends will come to that. A couple of people from the office, Simon's co-workers at the care center, his mates from cooking class.
Agatha has sent a coffee press and hand-fired mugs, but will be unable to attend.
When I marry Simon, I will put my mother's ring on his hand. (Her hands were large, and strong.) I keep turning it over in my hands, the dark and lovely patina from years of fire changing colors in the winter light. My father called me into his study and gave it to me when we went home to tell them. There was a lot of shoulder patting, and not much talking.
I shall wear a slate blue suit, and he will be in grey.
I fully expect to cry at some point. Snow says I'm getting soft, now I don't have to be evil to him anymore. I growled at him. He laughed.
When I marry the boy I love tomorrow, it will be perfectly imperfect and just the way it should be.
"I choose you, Simon Snow," I will say. "I choose you again, and always."
"I choose you back," he'll say, the way he always does.
And it will be magic.