She looks like someone pushed her into the swimming pool. But in her eyes, I see joy, pure and unbridled. She laughs, reaching for me with both hands. I walk us right up to the water’s edge, not caring as the waves crash against my ankles, filling my expensive leather shoes with saltwater. She stands with me, our hands clasped. “So how do we do this?” I call over the storm. “Doesn’t it have to be officiated to be legal?” “It’s already legal,” she calls back, wiggling her hand at me where a pair of diamond rings already rest. Right, we got married mid-season, which meant there was no chance to
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