Chapter 3

Elena’s pov

The photographs took longer than I expected. 

We smiled when we were told to smile, turned when we were told to turn, stood close enough that Alexander’s hand stayed warm at my waist the entire time. 

Every few minutes he leaned down just enough for only me to hear him.

“You’re doing fine,” he said once.

“So are you.”

He almost smiled. “I’m counting the minutes until we can leave the crowd behind for a little while.”

I glanced up at him. “Soon.”

When the photographer finally released us, the coordinator pointed us toward a small side room that had been set aside for a few private minutes before the reception. 

The door closed behind us and the noise of the guests faded to a distant murmur. 

For the first time since I had walked down the aisle, it was just the two of us.

Alexander let out a quiet breath and turned to face me fully. 

For a moment he only looked at me, eyes moving over my face like he was still making sure I was real.

“Come here,” he said.

I stepped into him. His arms came around me carefully, mindful of the dress, and I rested my forehead against his chest. 

He smelled like the cologne he always wore and something warmer underneath it, something that felt like him.

“I meant what I said out there,” he murmured against my hair. “You’re my wife.”

“I know.” I tilted my head back to look at him. “It still feels a little unreal.”

“In a good way?”

“In the best way.”

He brushed his thumb across my cheek, slow and careful. “I’ve been waiting for this day longer than I let on. Every time I looked at you over the past months I kept thinking about getting here. About having you to myself without the rest of the world watching.”

I smiled. “You have me.”

“I do.” His voice dropped a little. “And I plan to take care of you. Not just the big things. 

The ordinary ones too. I want mornings with you. Quiet nights. Arguments about nothing important and then making up afterward. All of it.”

My chest tightened in the best way. “I want that too. I want the ordinary parts just as much as the rest.”

He leaned down and kissed me, slower than the one in front of the guests. 

This one had no audience and no reason to end quickly. When he pulled back he rested his forehead against mine.

“Are you happy?” he asked.

“Yes.” I didn’t have to think about the answer. “I keep waiting for the part where I get scared or start second-guessing, but it hasn’t come. 

I just feel sure. Even more than I did this morning.”

He exhaled, something like relief in the sound. “Good. Because I am too. More than I’ve been about anything in a long time.”

We stayed like that for a minute, not talking. His hands moved slowly up and down my back. 

I could hear the distant sound of music starting in the main room, the low rise of voices as people began to gather for the reception.

“They’re going to come looking for us soon,” I said.

“I know.” He didn’t move away. “Just a little longer. I want this part to last.”

I laughed softly. “You’re going to make us late to our own reception.”

“Worth it.” He pulled back just enough to look at me again. “I want you to remember this. Before the noise and the speeches and everything else. Just this. You and I are in a quiet room with nothing else asking for our attention.”

“I will,” I said. “I already know I will.”

He kissed me once more, briefer this time, then reached up and gently adjusted a piece of my hair that had slipped loose.

“You look beautiful,” he said. “But that’s not new. You’ve looked like this to me for a long time.”

Heat rose in my face. “You’re very good at this.”

“At what?”

“Making me feel like the only person in the room. Even when there are a hundred people on the other side of the door.”

His expression softened. “That’s because you are. You have been for a while now.”

A soft knock sounded at the door. The coordinator’s voice came through, polite but firm. “Mr. and Mrs. Voss? They’re ready for you.”

Alexander closed his eyes for half a second. He didn’t answer right away.

Instead he looked at me again, like he was storing the moment somewhere private.

“One more minute,” he called toward the door, his voice calm but final.

There was a short pause on the other side, then a quiet, “Of course.”

Footsteps moved away. The hallway went still again.

Alexander turned back to me. “I know we have to go out there. I know people are waiting. But I needed one more minute that belonged only to us.”

“I didn’t mind,” I said.

He took both of my hands in his. “When we walk out that door, everything gets louder. Speeches. Toasts. People want pieces of the day. I just want you to know that none of that is the part I’ll remember most. This is. Standing here with you before any of it starts.”

I squeezed his hands. “I’ll remember it too.”

He leaned in and kissed my forehead, soft and lingering, then rested there for a second longer.

“Mrs. Voss,” he said quietly, testing the words again. “I like the sound of that more than I expected to.”

“So do I.”

He offered me his arm. I took it. Together we turned toward the door. 

He opened it himself this time, and the distant noise of the reception spilled back in, music, voices, the low hum of a room full of people waiting for us.

I stepped forward with him, the quiet of the side room falling away behind us.

I didn’t know then that this last private hour would be the one I measured everything against later.