Chapter 27
When we hit our thirtieth wedding anniversary, the kids threw us a big party.
Everyone was there—our kids, our grandkids, our friends, the staff who’d been with us for decades, James and Daniel and Marcus and their families, Uncle Martin and his wife and their kids. It was just like our wedding, but bigger, louder, happier.
They made a video for us, with photos from every year of our marriage—our wedding, the kids’ births, birthdays, holidays, trips, all the happy moments. There were even a few photos from before the accident, of Clara working in the house, of me in my office, both of us young and unaware of what was coming.
We watched it, holding hands, crying and laughing through the whole thing.
When it was over, I stood up to give a speech.
“Thirty years,” I said, looking at Clara. “Thirty years of love, of laughter, of pain, of joy. Thirty years ago, I was a broken man, surrounded by people who only cared about my money. I thought I had everything, but I had nothing. And then, on the worst night of my life, a woman knelt down beside me and reminded me that I was still a human being. That I still deserved to be treated kindly.”
I paused, my voice shaking a little.
“That woman became my wife. My best friend. The mother of my children. The grandmother of my grandson. She saved my life, more times than I can count. She taught me how to love, how to be kind, how to be a good man. I wouldn’t be standing here today without her. I wouldn’t have any of this without her.”
I turned to her, holding out my hand. She took it, standing up beside me, her eyes full of tears.
“Clara Hale,” I said. “I love you more today than I did the day I married you. And I’ll love you even more tomorrow. Thank you for thirty amazing years. Here’s to thirty more.”
Everyone cheered, raising their glasses. I kissed her, long and slow, just like I had on our wedding day, under the roses, in front of everyone we loved.
Later that night, after everyone left, we walked through the garden, hand in hand, just like we had so many times before. The roses were in bloom, their scent sweet in the warm summer air. The stars were bright, just like they’d been the night we’d gotten engaged.
“Thirty years,” Clara said, leaning her head on my shoulder. “Can you believe it?”
“Not really,” I said. “It feels like yesterday. And it feels like a lifetime.”
We stopped by the bench where we’d sat so many times, through good times and bad, through fear and joy, through everything. We sat down, looking at the house, full of light and laughter, full of the people we loved.
“Remember when Vanessa said I’d be forgotten, rotting in a home somewhere?” I said.
Clara laughed. “She was so wrong. Look at you. You’re loved by so many people. You built an amazing legacy. You’re the happiest man I know.”
“I am,” I said. “Because of you. Everything I have, everything I am, is because of you.”
She kissed me, soft and slow, under the stars.
May you like
“I love you, Ethan,” she said.
“I love you too, Clara,” I said. “Forever and always.”
