Page 16 of The Temporary Wife

Gianna

T he April sun streamed through the windows of our bedroom as I sat at my vanity, watching Summer work magic with my hair.

Six months had passed since that terrifying day in the courthouse when our marriage had been challenged, six months of happiness I’d never dared to dream possible.

Today, we would marry again. Not out of necessity or fear, but because we chose each other completely.

“Stop fidgeting,” Summer said, securing another bobby pin in the intricate updo she’d spent an hour creating. “You’re going to mess up my masterpiece.”

“I can’t help it. I’m nervous.”

“About marrying the same man you’ve been living with for almost a year?”

“About doing it right this time. About standing up in front of everyone and promising forever when I finally understand what that means.”

Summer’s hands stilled in my hair, and she met my eyes in the mirror. “You’ve known what it means for months, Gianna. You’ve been living it every day.”

She was right. The past six months had been a masterclass in what real marriage looked like.

Not the careful distance we’d maintained in the beginning, or even the passionate rush of new love, but something deeper.

The quiet intimacy of morning coffee shared over the newspaper.

The way Colby brought me tea when I worked late at the shop.

How we moved around each other in the kitchen, a choreography born of paying attention to someone else’s needs.

“There,” Summer said, stepping back to admire her work. “You look beautiful.”

I studied my reflection in the mirror. The dress was simple but elegant, ivory silk that skimmed my curves and fell to just below my knees. Not a traditional wedding gown, but perfect for what this day represented. A new beginning built on the foundation of everything we’d already shared.

“Mom, are you ready?” Luca’s voice carried through the bedroom door, followed by a soft knock.

“Come in, sweetheart.”

The door opened and my breath caught. Luca stood there in his navy suit, looking so grown up and handsome that tears pricked at my eyes. But it was the expression on his face that nearly undid me, pure joy mixed with something deeper, something that looked like relief.

“You look perfect,” he said solemnly. “Dad’s going to be really happy when he sees you.”

“Is he nervous too?”

“A little. But the good kind of nervous. The kind that means something really important is happening.” He moved closer, suddenly shy. “Can I tell you something?”

“Always.”

“I used to worry that you might change your mind and move back to your old apartment. Even after you and Dad got married the first time.” He looked down at his shoes. “But then I realized something. You didn’t just marry Dad. You chose us. You chose to be my mom even when it was hard.”

My heart broke a little. “Oh, Luca . . .”

“And I’m really glad you did. Being your son is the best thing ever, and I’m happy Dad asked you to marry him again so everyone knows it’s real.”

I knelt down to his level, not caring if I wrinkled my dress. “I will always choose you, Luca. Always. Being your mom is the greatest privilege of my life.”

He hugged me then, careful not to mess up my hair but holding on tight. “I’m glad we’re a real family now.”

“We were always a real family, sweetheart. Today just makes it official.”

A few minutes later, Summer declared me ready. We made our way downstairs, where Kay was waiting with a corsage and tears in her eyes.

“Oh, honey,” she said, her voice thick with emotion. “You look radiant.”

“Thank you for everything, Kay. For watching Luca, for being there when we needed you, for believing in us even when we weren’t sure ourselves.”

“That’s what family does.” She pinned the corsage to my dress with gentle hands. “And make no mistake, you’ve been family for a long time.”

The ceremony took place in our backyard, under the oak tree where Luca and Colby had hung a tire swing just last week.

Folding chairs filled neat rows with everyone who mattered to us.

My mother sat in the front row, dabbing at her eyes with a tissue.

David Voight and his wife were there, along with half the parents from Luca’s soccer team.

But it was the man standing under the oak tree who took my breath away.

Colby wore a charcoal gray suit that brought out his eyes, and his dark hair was freshly cut but still showed signs of his nervous habit of running his hands through it.

When he saw me walking toward him with Luca at my side, his face transformed with a smile so bright it could have powered the whole town.

“Ready?” Luca asked quietly as we reached the aisle between the chairs.

“Ready,” I said.

He offered me his arm with the solemnity of someone taking his job very seriously. Together, we walked toward Colby and the minister who would make our choice official. Every step felt like a promise, every breath like a prayer of gratitude for the unlikely path that had brought us here.

When we reached the altar, Luca placed my hand in Colby’s with ceremonial gravity. “Take care of her, Dad,” he said loudly enough for everyone to hear. “She’s pretty special.”

Laughter rippled through our guests, but Colby’s response was completely serious. “I promise, buddy. For the rest of my life.”

Luca beamed and took his place in the front row next to my mother, who immediately put her arm around him like he’d always been her grandson.

“Dearly beloved,” the minister began, “we are gathered here today to witness something beautiful. The celebration of a love that has grown from friendship into partnership, from necessity into choice, from arrangement into joy.”

I looked into Colby’s eyes and saw everything I needed to see. Love, yes, but also certainty. Peace. The quiet confidence of someone who knew exactly where he belonged.

“Colby and Gianna have already taken the legal steps to bind their lives together,” the minister continued. “Today is about something deeper, the public declaration of their commitment to each other and to the family they’ve built together.”

When it came time for the vows, Colby spoke first, his voice steady and clear.

“Gianna, four years ago you were the friend who showed up when I needed help. A year ago, you became my wife out of necessity. Today, you become my wife by choice, and that makes all the difference.” He reached up to touch my face gently.

“I promise to choose you every day for the rest of our lives. I promise to build a life with you that’s worthy of the love you’ve given me and Luca.

I promise to never take for granted the gift of your heart. ”

My own vows came from someplace deep and honest. “Colby, you taught me that love doesn’t always look like the movies.

Sometimes it looks like showing up every day.

Sometimes it looks like choosing someone again and again, especially when it’s hard.

” I squeezed his hands. “You gave me a family when I thought I was too broken for one. You gave me a son who calls me Mom and means it. You gave me a love that’s built on friendship and trust and the kind of partnership that lasts.

I promise to choose this, choose us, choose our family, every single day. ”

When the minister pronounced us husband and wife, Colby kissed me with such tenderness that I forgot we had an audience. When we broke apart, Luca was cheering so loudly that everyone else started laughing and applauding.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” the minister announced with a grin, “I present to you the Marshall family, together by choice, united by love, and ready for whatever comes next.”

The reception was simple but perfect. Tables dotted the lawn, string lights twinkled overhead, and food prepared by half the town covered every surface.

Luca gave a toast that made everyone cry, talking about how happy he was to have a mom who kept her promises.

My mother danced with Colby and whispered something in his ear that made him nod seriously.

But my favorite moment came later, as the sun was setting and most of our guests had gone home. I found Colby sitting on our back steps, jacket discarded, and tie loosened, watching Luca chase fireflies in the gathering dusk.

“Happy?” he asked as I settled beside him.

“Incredibly.” I leaned against his shoulder, breathing in the familiar scent of his cologne mixed with April evening air. “You?”

“I keep thinking about that first night when you agreed to marry me. How desperate I was, how sure I was that I was asking you to give up everything for us.”

“You were asking me to give up everything. My independence, my careful distance, my fear of being left behind.” I turned to look at him. “But what I got in return was so much better.”

“What did you get?”

“Everything I never knew I wanted. A husband who sees me completely. A son who loves me unconditionally. A life that’s messy and real and chosen every single day.”

Colby was quiet for a moment. “Do you ever wonder what would have happened if we’d been brave enough to admit our feelings from the beginning?”

I’d thought about that question many times over the past months. “I think we needed time to build the foundation first. Trust and friendship and partnership. This feels too right to have been an accident.”

“You think we were meant to be?”

“I think we were meant to choose each other. And we did, over and over, until it became the most natural thing in the world.”

Luca ran over to us, breathless and grinning, his hands cupped around something that glowed softly in the twilight.

“Look,” he said, opening his palms to reveal a firefly blinking lazily against his skin. “I caught one!”

“Make a wish,” I said automatically.

He closed his eyes tight, concentrating fiercely. After a moment, he opened his hands and we watched the firefly float away into the evening air.

“What did you wish for?” Colby asked.

“That we’ll always be happy like this,” Luca said simply. “And that we can have pancakes for breakfast tomorrow.”

I laughed despite the tears in my eyes. “I think both of those wishes can come true.”

As we sat there on our back steps, watching fireflies dance in our yard while our son caught magic in his hands, I knew his wish had already come true. We were happy. We were together. And most importantly, we were here by choice.

Six months ago, I’d been terrified of loving too much, of wanting something I might lose.

Now I understood that the only real tragedy would have been missing this, missing the chance to be part of something bigger than myself, to love and be loved completely, to build a family from choice and commitment and the simple decision to show up for each other every single day.

“I love you,” I said to both of them, and felt the truth of it settle into my bones like a promise I intended to keep forever.

“We love you too,” Luca said, settling between us on the steps.

And as the stars emerged above our house, above our family, above the life we’d built together one careful choice at a time, I finally understood what home really meant.

It meant this.

It meant us.

It meant knowing that no matter what tomorrow brought, we’d face it together.

The temporary wife had become something permanent, something real, something chosen.

And it was the most beautiful thing I’d ever been part of.