Mrs. Matched | Complete

Chapter Thirty

I stared at the letter in my lap, waiting for Chris to finish writing. I desperately wished I had something to do to keep me from wringing my hands in my lap, because waiting was increasing my nerves with every passing moment. I tried to focus on something else but it was impossible without my usual distraction of pacing. I would have done that, too, if it weren't for the fact that I had completely busted up my ankle a few short hours before.

Finally, after what felt like forever, Chris slid the drawer open and put his pen inside, picking up his paper to bring to me. Each step he took brought him closer to seeing what I had written and suddenly being honest was seeming like a very bad idea. By the time he arrived, I wanted nothing more than to not let him read the letter, but it was too late. And I had no choice.

He handed me his letter and held out his hand, silently asking if he was allowed to read mine. With a deep breath and a silent prayer, I ripped my note out of the notepad and handed it to him. I should have probably read what he wrote me, but I couldn't look away as he returned to the desk and read my letter.

It was only when he turned to look at me that I realized I was still staring, whipping my head back to the letter in my own hands, acutely aware that he was waiting for my reaction to his letter.

It's now or never. I steady myself and look down at his letter, written in elegant script. He must have re-written his, too, because absolutely nothing is crossed out or corrected.

My Darling Aubrey,

As you already know, much of my life has been leading up to the moment where I got to put that ring on your finger and call you my wife. You asked me what I wanted to be when I was younger and I told you only half a truth. What I really want to be is a good husband and maybe, one day, father.

No matter where life takes us, I will forever treasure you for giving me that chance.

I love your adventurous spirit and how easily you transitioned your whole life into our new home, despite the circumstances. I admit to having put myself first more times than I should have, and I'm going to try not to do that in the future. Loving someone is letting them be their whole self and I want that for you, Aubrey. I want you to have the world.

Please believe me when I tell you I loved you from the moment I stubbed my toe on your fifth box of books and I will love you forever more. As my wife and one of my dearest friends. And I hope only to be able to do right by you.

Thank you for sharing these last weeks with me and humouring me as my friends and family made fun of me in front of my face and behind my back. Thank you for appreciating my cooking, even when it was less than perfect. And thank you, most especially, for challenging me to be a better husband. This letter cannot convey the depth of what I feel for you or how much I wish I could have brought you up here and proposed to you myself, but I firmly believe that in life, everything happens for a reason.

And for some reason I can't fully describe, Aubrey, you came into my life and brought me the greatest joy. I hope one day you can enjoy sleeping in the large four poster bed in the room with the view I chose just for you. I know you're reading this and thinking I couldn't have because I didn't know you. But you're wrong.

I might not have known you, but somehow I know I built that house just for you. I truly hope it fulfills all your expectations and I hope I can do half as much for you as I should.

You are light itself and I hope your joy continues to shine through you as you take on the world. You can do it all and I know you will. You amaze me, Aubrey, and I want you to know you are the love of my whole life. Always and forever.

Your Chris.

A tear dropped onto the page at the end. I could not believe my luck to have him. So much so that I made a mental note to apologize to my parents. They were right when they picked him. Did I just admit my parents were right? Perish the thought.

"What do you think?" I asked Chris once I had pulled myself together. My plan was to blame the tears on my sore ankle until I looked over to see him crying as well. I guess we're just a pair of softies.

"I think it's so good, Aubrey. It's the best love letter I've ever seen."

"Yours is better. Mentioning wanting to propose to me here was so smart, too. They'll have to accept these, I'm sure of it."

"Well, I always wanted my wife to see this place. Didn't get to propose, but half a dream is better than no dream at all, right?"

"Even when your wife trips and falls down a mountain trail and almost dies?"

"You did not almost die," he corrected before adding, barely above a whisper, "And yes, even then."

I looked down at my lap. "I'm sorry you know."

"For what?" He was at my side faster than I could blink back the tears.

"For spending so much of this marriage not really being in it. Mad at my parents. Whatever."

"You don't need to apologize to me. You didn't deserve to be married without your consent. Marriage is supposed to be about two people deciding to love each other. I know the parental matches are allowed but I never imagined you'd not be given a say. Or at least a warning. I mean, I should be apologizing to you."

"Well, aren't we a pair?"

"At least we are good friends now. It's something." He paused and looked out the window at the stars. "Plus, we got to go on some pretty great adventures, too."

"Hey! My restaurant adventure was awesome." I felt the need to defend myself, probably because I knew his adventure was far better. "But this is pretty good too."

"It was," he answered me. "But now I think it's time to get you and your poor ankle to bed. We can figure out what to do with those in the morning."

My phone told me it was barely eleven, but he was right and I was exhausted. Maybe the excitement of breaking my ankle made me tired.

Christopher walked me to my room and stood outside the door while I changed.

"You don't have to go," I said. "I'll just throw on my pyjamas."

"I'll wait here to make sure you don't fall down," he said, closing the door between us and making no move to leave. Is it possible my husband's a little too respectful?

"Chris?" I asked him through the door. "What happens if we stay married and it never gets more than friends?"

Why am I saying this out loud when only hours ago I swore I wouldn't do this to him? What on earth is possessing me?