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Story: The Temporary Wife

She laughed, stepping back to admire her handiwork. “I think we’re going to be very happy here.”
“I know we are.” I moved closer, close enough to catch the familiar scent of her shampoo. “Actually, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about.”
“Our decorating compatibility?”
“Our happiness. Our future. Us.”
Something in my tone made her turn to face me fully, and I saw awareness dawn in her hazel eyes. “Colby . . .”
“Marry me.”
The words came out simply, without elaborate buildup. Just the truth, spoken clearly in the afternoon light of our new home.
She stared at me for a long moment. “We’re already married.”
“Legally, yes. But I want to marry you by choice this time. Not because of custody cases or legal strategies or any of the complicated reasons that brought us together.” I pulled out the ring I’d been carrying for two days, my grandmother’s simple solitaire that had been waiting in my dresser drawer for the right moment. “I want to marry you because I choose you. Because every morning I wake up and choose you again. Because you’re not just my legal wife, you’re my partner in building something lasting.”
Tears gathered in her eyes as she looked down at the ring, then back up at my face. “We don’t need another ceremony to prove anything.”
“This isn’t about proving anything to anyone else,” I said quietly. “This is about us choosing each other freely, without pressure or necessity or fear. This is about celebrating what we’ve built instead of defending it.”
“And if I say no?”
I caught the slight smile playing at the corners of her mouth. “Then I’ll ask again tomorrow. And the day after that. I’ll keep building reasons for you to say yes.”
“Building reasons?”
“I’m good with my hands, remember? I can build us anything, shelves for your books, a garden for your flowers, a life that’s exactly what we want it to be.”
She reached out and touched my face, her thumb brushing across my cheekbone. “Yes, Colby Marshall. Yes, I’ll marry you again. By choice this time.”
I slipped the ring onto her finger, above the simple gold band from our courthouse ceremony. It caught the winter light streaming through the window, sparkling like the tears in her eyes.
“I love you,” I said, pulling her into my arms.
“I love you too.” She looked down at the rings on her finger, then back up at me. “When were you thinking?”
“Spring. April, maybe. Give us time to plan something meaningful, invite everyone who matters.”
“I’d like that.” She paused, considering. “I have one request.”
“Anything.”
“I want Luca to walk me down the aisle. He’s the one who brought us together, who made us a family. I want him to officially give me away to you.”
My throat tightened. “He’d love that.”
“Good. Because I want him to know that this is about all of us choosing each other, not just you and me.”
I kissed her then, soft and sure in the winter light of our new home. When we broke apart, she was smiling through her tears.
“There’s something else,” I said, reaching into my back pocket. “I know you value your independence, your ability to stand on your own. I never want you to feel like you gave that up for us.”
I handed her an envelope, watching as she opened it and read the contents. Her eyes widened.
“It’s the deed to Blossom & Vine,” she whispered.
“The building, the business, everything. It’s yours now, completely.” I watched her face, hoping I’d understood her correctly. “Your shop was the first place you were truly yourself, where you built something entirely your own. I want you to own that, not just rent space for your dreams.”