Page 101 of Trade It All

My husband in a few minutes. And speak from the place in me that spent years convinced love was supposed to hurt.

“Dean…” My voice breaks. I start again.

“Dean. Before you, I thought loving someone meant learning how to make yourself smaller.”

His face tightens. I squeeze his hands.

“I thought it meant staying quiet when things felt wrong. I thought it meant accepting half-love because asking for full love felt greedy.”

Tears slide faster now.

“I taught myself how to survive disappointment so many times that eventually I stopped believing there was anything else.”

His thumbs brush over my knuckles. Steady. Grounding.

“Then you loved me.”

His eyes close briefly. I keep going because if I stop I won’t finish.

“You loved me in a way that didn’t ask me to shrink.” My voice trembles. “You loved me in a way that made me feel seen even in the pieces I wanted to hide.”

I smile through tears. “You kicked down doors for me.” A tiny laugh ripples through the room. “You made hotel walls disappear because you couldn’t stand being too far away.”

Dean huffs a wet laugh.

“You made me realize that being cared for doesn’t make me weak. Being protected doesn’t make me a burden. Being loved loudly doesn’t make me hard to hold.”

My chest aches. I look straight into his eyes. “You are proof that the wrong love was never the end of my story.”

Dean’s breath catches. I press on.

“You are proof that there is a man out there who will not ask me to beg for softness.”

The bride fully sobs beside us now.

“You are proof that the things I thought were broken in me were really just waiting for the right hands.”

Dean’s eyes flood. And mine do too.

“But this can’t only be about what you give me,” I whisper, tightening my hold on him. “Because loving you is the easiest thing I have ever done.”

His brows pull together slightly, like that catches him off guard.

“I love every side of you, Dean.” My tears spill harder. “I love the coach who carries an entire team on his shoulders and still somehow thinks he should have carried more.”

His jaw clenches.

“I love the protective man who would tear down buildings just to make sure I’m safe.”

His forehead almost tips toward mine.

“I love the grumpy, overthinking, bossy man who thinks every moment has to be perfect when all I ever wanted was him.”

That earns the smallest shaky laugh from him.

“And I love the quiet version of you,” I whisper. “The one only I get. The one that holds me in the dark like I am something precious.”

A tear slides down his face. I reach up and wipe it away with my thumb.