I bury my head in the crook of his neck and say the words he loves to hear. “I, Leo Ricci-Hunt”—I feel his pulse quicken against my lips—“take you, Jesse Ricci-Hunt, to be my husband, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and cherish, till death do us part.”
