You breathe a slow steady breath through your nostrils, as the rabbi turns his head to Lucas, and asks the most explicable question.

"Lucas Douglas, do Ты take this woman to be your wife, to live together in holy matrimony, to Любовь her, to honor her, to comfort her, and to keep her in sickness and in health, forsaking all others, for as long as Ты both shall live?"

He beams a bright, loving smile at you.

"I do."

Ты lose your focus, falling into the apparent colour difference of his eyes from the mere bright stained glass of the church. And, they remind Ты of why you're questioning this. There was nothing behind them. No fascination, curiousity, excitement, intelligence, или fierce desire.

The rabbi gives a questioning glance at you, then continues.

"Lisa Cuddy, do Ты take this man to be your husband, to live together in holy matrimony, to Любовь him, to honor him, to comfort him, and to keep him in sickness and in health, forsaking all others, for as long as Ты both shall live?"

Your eyes dart from pew to pew, searching for him. Wilson sits there, focused and compelled. He gives Ты a sorrowful smile, watching Ты stare blankly at the empty Космос beside him.

"Ms. Cuddy?"

The rabbi questions, slowly. Lucas gently rubs your bare arm, taking your assiduity from the empty seat.

"I...-"

People begin to scoot up in the pews, making squeaky sounds come from the hard wood. Shiny and mooth pieces of your hair sway down across your forehead, as Ты bend your head for a moment toward the red carpet floor. Teeth begin to bite the inside of your dry mouth, when Ты look back up.

"I can't...-"

His once gleaming smile, begins to turn into a desolate frown.

Ты contine, shakily.

"I can't marry... you, Lucas."

The guests begin to turn their heads to one another, already gossiping; He gives a knowing look, and nods, clenching and unclenching his jaws back and forth.

"Here...."

Ты say; handing him the bouquet of white calla lilies.

Everyone stares at you. Watching Ты walk down the isle with no one on your arm, to the far right corner of the 4th row pew.

"Where is he?"

Ты ask Wilson, lip syncing.

"Apartment."

He Ответы you, barely audible to hear.










You're not exactly sane at the moment, you've come to realise. Speeding down a two lane road, isn't what Ты call insane, but the reason why you're doing it might be. He was going to be there, he wasn't going out of town, или leaving and never coming back. Yet, here Ты were, driving moronically.

The chill of the wind sweeps under your forever long gown. Causing cold гусь bumps to introduce themselves to the nervous гусь bumps Ты had already had. Ты enter the hall outside the loft, the loft Ты had intended on buying. One hard inhale of air and your knuckles met themselves with the hard white two double doors, knocking loudly.

Two минуты went by, and no answer или grunt of any remoteable sort. So, like any other logical person, Ты assume he's not home, или just doesn't care enough to answer.

A click echoes.

And, he stares at you. A speculative spark in his eyes.

"I didn't get married to Lucas...."

Ты let it slowly roll off the tip of your tongue.

His mouth opens slightly, yet no words even muttering out to the surface.

Your bottom lip instinctively pushes out, then draws back in, preparing for what to say.

"I'm in Любовь with you."

He gives a small, joyful smile. A smile that could speak louder and mean еще than any word Ты could ever hear.

"You don't deserve to wear white."

He picks, teasingly.

Slowly and easily, he pulls the Золото long handle all the way back, expanding the door, and opening Ты into his life.