Chapter Text
The loft smelled like wood and citrus-scented cleaner.
They'd only been here a week, but it was beginning to feel like home. Though Maya was sure anywhere that had Carina would feel like home.
Sunlight spilled in through the tall industrial windows, catching on dust floating midair and turning it into something almost deliberate. Golden. Suspended. Like glitter.
There were only a few boxes left, the majority had now been neatly flattened, evidence of a life recently uprooted and replanted somewhere softer.
Somewhere theirs.
Maya sat cross-legged on the floor in the middle of it all.
She had meant to unpack the last of the shelves.
That had been the plan.
Instead, she’d found herself pulling a smaller box free from the bottom of a stack. The cardboard was older than the rest, softened at the edges, sealed with tape that had yellowed slightly with time. Across the top, written in thick black marker:
Maya UW
She'd forgotten it existed.
She'd rescued it from her closet. A memory box of sorts that she'd never unpacked in thirteen years.
Now it sat open in front of her, flaps folded back like it had been waiting.
Inside was a life she hadn’t touched in years.
An old race bib.
Medals that had paled in comparison to nationals or worlds. The Olympics.
A faded team hoodie she was fairly certain still carried the ghost of stadium grass in its fibres.
A pen.
The lid to something she no longer had.
Pictures.
A stack of them.
Pinpricked from the notice board they used to hang on and curled at the edges. Colours slightly blown out in that way early digital cameras had never quite mastered.
She picked one up.
It was them.
Frozen in time.
The two of them at the track the night Carina had been bored enough to join her for training, arms slung around each other’s shoulders, sweat-slicked and grinning, the stadium lights washing everything silver. Carina’s curls tied back in a chaotic puff. Maya mid-laugh, head thrown back.
God they were young.
A few photos later, she found the one Carina’s mom had taken the day they moved into the studio. Maya laughed, they looked so young. Carina was holding the lease pulling a funny face, whilst Maya had the keys held out to the camera.
"Was it really that small?" she mumbled to herself realising you could see both of the outside walls in the photo.
She set it down, deciding to save the rest of the photos for when her girlfriend came home.
Girlfriend.
Home.
Maya could hardly believe it. Sometimes she needed to pinch herself.
For so many years those memories had lived in a quiet part of her mind. Untouched. Carefully folded away like the things in this box.
Carina had been a chapter she never quite closed, but never expected to reopen either.
And now-
Now, her shoes were by the door. Her coffee mug sat beside Maya’s in the sink. Her laugh filled the loft in the mornings. Italian drifting through the kitchen while she cooked.
Maya smiled to herself, shaking her head slightly, still not entirely convinced this was real.
Then she leaned forward again and reached back into the box.
More photos. A takeout receipt folded into quarters. A program from a meet. A cheap plastic trophy someone must have stolen as a joke.
And then-
Her fingers brushed paper.
Her hand stilled.
For a moment she didn’t pull it out. Just let her fingertips rest there, as recognition crept up her spine.
Slow.
Certain.
She knew exactly what it was before she unfolded it.
The paper was creased from being handled too much that first night and not at all since. She unfurled it just enough to confirm it was what she thought.
Maya let out a quiet, disbelieving laugh.
Fifteen years.
"Ciao, bambina. Puoi aiutarmi con la spesa? Il mio braccio sta per cadere."
Maya blinked, pulled gently out of the moment.
She glanced toward the door, hearing the familiar rustle of grocery bags and Carina’s voice floating through the loft.
For a second she considered calling out immediately. Shouting across the room about what she had found.
But the paper felt strangely fragile in her hands. Like something that deserved more than a doorway conversation.
Instead, she slid it beneath the photographs.
It could wait a little longer.
"Hi, babe, what did you say?"
"Can you help me with the shopping? My arm is about to fall off. Did I speak Italian again?"
"You did," Maya chuckled, coming to meet her at the front door. "How was the farmers' market?" She asked, leaning in for a kiss as she slid the bags off Carina’s shoulders.
"It's amazing! There's a whole pasta stand made by people from Roma! And I got so many herbs and there was a cheese stand!" She beamed. Then leaned in for another kiss. "Hi."
"Hi."
Carina toed off her shoes by the door and disappeared into the kitchen, already narrating her purchases in a stream of excited Italian and English.
Maya leaned against the counter, watching her unpack basil like it was treasure.
So deeply in love.
"You were a sleepyhead this morning," Carina chuckled, ruffling Maya’s hair.
"No I wasn't."
"Yes, you were. You were fast asleep when I left. Drooling."
“I do not drool.”
Carina hummed in disagreement and began rinsing strawberries under the tap.
"You drool. But it's cute."
"Carina-" Maya said, her tone warning as she reached for a strawberry.
"Yes, my love," Carina grinned, pressing a kiss to her cheek.
Maya shook her head and reached for another strawberry.
"Don't eat the whole thing,” Carina warned, nudging the punnet slightly out of reach with the back of her hand.
"Why?" Maya asked, already reaching around her for her fourth one.
"Why?" Carina repeated in disbelief, "you literally threw up after eating a whole box."
"That was like fifteen years ago,” Maya said, popping the strawberry into her mouth.
"Well excuse me for not being able to forget you groaning on your bed with a bloated belly and our trash can as your sick bowl."
"That is not how it went."
Carina fixed her with a look over the rim of the colander.
"I wasn’t groaning," Maya added, leaning back against the counter.
"You absolutely were. You were not well."
"You've remembered wrong."
"I have not." Carina turned back to the cutting board, slicing the tops off a handful of strawberries with unnecessary precision. "You bought some strawberries. Ate the entire box. Would not admit you felt sick."
“I was fine.”
“You were curled in a ball,” Carina said, glancing over her shoulder, “groaning.”
"I was-"
"And then you got up and ran to the bathroom."
Maya huffed out a quiet laugh, folding her arms across her chest.
"You followed," she said, with a smile.
"Of course I did," Carina replied, as if the idea of doing anything else was ridiculous. She rinsed the strawberries and set the bowl down between them. "Then we realised throwing up hadn't helped your belly at all. It was like, out here, do you remember?"
She gestured with both hands, miming an exaggerated round stomach.
"Kind of."
"I do," Carina said firmly. "Your six pack had disappeared into this super bloated belly.”
Maya laughed under her breath. “You rubbed my stomach… with lavender oil.”
Carina’s mouth curved. “You wouldn’t sleep unless I stayed.”
Maya’s cheeks warmed. “It hurt less when you were there.”
So simple. So unguarded.
Carina rinsed her hands and stepped closer, instinctive as breathing. “You fell asleep like this,” she murmured, sliding an arm around Maya’s waist, settling a hand on her stomach under her top, resting her chin lightly against her shoulder. “Clinging to me like I was your personal heating pad. You wouldn't let me take my hand off your belly.”
Maya didn’t move away.
"You skipped class the next morning," she murmured into Carina’s collarbone. "Said you weren't feeling well either."
"I had to make sure you were okay."
“You never skipped class.”
“I did that day.”
"Guess you always loved me."
Carina’s laugh softened against her neck.
Neither of them pointed out that it had been the start of a string of nights where they slept tangled in Maya’s single bed.
Neither of them said that it had never felt strange.
"What were you doing when I got home?" Carina asked, lips pressed to Maya’s forehead.
“I was just going through some old stuff.”
“Oh?” Carina’s interest sparked instantly. “Like what?”
"I found a box from when I packed up the studio."
"Oh?"
"Full of memories, come on," she untangled herself from Carina’s arms, and joined their hands, pulling them over to the pile of things.
"You found pictures!"
"I did," Maya said, sitting on the floor, pulling Carina into her lap.
"Did you look through them already?"
"The first few," Maya said, passing her the pile, leaving the folded piece of paper until later.
"Madonna, Mai, look at us, babies."
"I know, sunshine," Maya chuckled, kissing her cheek, as Carina looked through the photos.
"Oh my god! Look at this one!"
She held up a photo which had clearly been taken by someone else. It showed Maya asleep on the couch, a textbook open on her chest. Next to her, Carina was tucked into her side, half-asleep too, cheek pressed against Maya’s collarbone.
"Just friends feels unapplicable to that."
Carina chuckled, "how blind were we?”
"I wasn’t blind. I liked you. I just knew you didn't like me."
"Okay," Carina surrendered, "how blind was I? You were always right there in front of me."
"Sometimes you have to make the mistakes to get to where you should be," Maya said, pressing a gentle kiss to her cheek. "Plus, there's also photos like this," she flipped through the pile and pulled out a photo of them in their dorm room, each sat on their bed. "See, just friends."
Carina smiled and kept sifting through. Laughing at a few photos from a road trip they took. "Your hand is on my knee."
"I clearly got confident." Maya smiled.
"Can we put some of these pictures up?" Carina asked, looking around the loft at the brick walls.
"Absolutely,” Maya smiled, kissing her cheek. “Oh! You know what else we should put up?" She said, reaching for the folded piece of paper.
"Is that?" Carina gasped.
"It is."
"You kept it?" she said, an air of disbelief ringing through her voice.
"Apparently so."
"Maya! You’ve known about this since I got home and you just let me talk about Fragole instead of showing me it! Maya!” "
“I didn’t properly open it. I wanted to wait for you.”
“Forza! Forza! Fallo! Fallo!”
Maya chuckled and carefully unfolded the time-warn piece of paper.
It had softened with age, edges feathered slightly, the ink bled just enough to prove it had once been handled with reckless enthusiasm.
Ink in two different colours.
Dramatic signatures.
Carina made a small sound in the back of her throat.
“Oh my God.”
Her hands reached for the paper.
Nostalgia rushed over her.
The tiny studio. The terrible date. The wine. Her tipsy suggestion. Maya wide-eyed and young. The look she now understood was love.
“I remember.”
“Huh?” Maya mumbled, tracing her finger over the words.
“I remember writing this. I- I remember it all. I remember the smell of your body spray and your stripey jumper and- and getting the pens out. And you agreeing. And the look on your face as you did. Like- like I was-”
“The only person I’d ever love,” Maya offered.
“Oh, Maya. I-”
“It’s okay.” Maya shook her head a little, gentle but quick, like she was easing them both away from the edge of something too big. “You don’t need to apologise.”
“But-”
“No,” Maya shook her head, taking her hand. “You don’t need to apologise for my feelings. For not noticing. I kept it to myself.”
“I hate that you kept a lot of things to yourself, bambina,” Carina said softly, playing with Maya’s hand.
“I shared more with you than anyone else,” Maya half-shrugged. “Like my clothes! In fact I remember you stealing my-” she pulled back, staring at Carina. “Wait-”
“What?” Carina frowned at her
“That’s mine.”
Carina blinked. “What?”
“That sweater. It’s mine.”
Carina looked down at herself like she’d never seen it before. The oversized blue knit, sleeves slightly too long, cuffs pushed up. Worn thin at the elbows. Soft with age.
“…No it’s not.”
“Yes it is,” Maya said, a slow smile curling at her mouth. “You stole it the night we wrote this.”
Carina stared at her.
Then at the paper.
Then back at her.
“I-” she shook her head, “you’re confused. I’ve had this for-” she trailed off.
“Fifteen years” Maya finished for her, “give or take. It went missing from my closet.”
“But- but I’ve- I had this in Italia. I-”
Maya’s voice softened. “You kept it.”
“I moved countries with it. It’s my favourite- is it really yours?”
“Yes,” Maya laughed, sifting through the pictures until she pulled up a picture of them in the library taken by Vic. It was clear as day, Maya was wearing the jumper that Carina was wearing right this second. “Look.”
“Madonna- I-”
“You kept it.”
Silence stretched between them- not heavy. Just full.
Full of years.
Full of the quiet ways they had carried each other without knowing.
Carina looked down at the pact again.
Her laugh this time was breathier. Younger.
“Listen to us,” she shook her head laughing, “no leaving the other person at the altar, no cheating, at least one date a month, never go to bed angry.”
“Read the next line,” Maya chuckled.
Carina frowned and moved her gaze down.
“Carina Lucia DeLuca isn’t allowed to stop Maya Kathleen Bishop from going for a run,” she read out, “oh, come on. Not even for cuddles?”
“It’s legally binding babe,” Maya said, tapping the words that were in block capitals and underlined.
“Oh it is, is it?”
“Yeah what’s that supposed to-” she trailed off.
Carina cleared her throat theatrically. “Maya Kathleen Bishop is not allowed to call Carina Lucia DeLuca dramatic when she starts ranting in Italian.”
“Dang it,” Maya chuckled.
“It’s funny,” Carina smiled, leaning her head back on Maya’s shoulder, “what was important to us.”
“Yeah,” Maya nodded, pressing a gentle kiss to her cheek. “Lasagne for me apparently,” Maya said, pointing to the next line which read ‘Carina Lucia DeLuca promises to always cook Maya Kathleen Bishop lasagne whenever she asks.’
“I will definitely always make you lasagne if you want,” Carina said, joining their lips.
“And I promise to let you steal my clothes.”
“I can’t believe I wrote that.”
“I can, you stole my clothes all the time, may as well make it… legally binding!”
“I’m not even a little bit sorry about that,” Carina grinned.
“Neither am I.”
They both smiled.
Neither of them let go of the paper.
Carina’s finger traced over her own signature.
Then over Maya’s.
Her voice dropped slightly.
“We were so young.”
“We were.”
Carina’s finger traced over the words ‘marry each other in fifteen years’.
Maya watched the way her expression changed; amusement softening into something more. Something quieter. More… thoughtful.
Carina swallowed.
Her eyes lifted to Maya’s.
There it was.
That flicker.
Not nostalgia.
Not humour.
Something present.
Something full of love.
“Marry me today.”
Maya stared at her for half a second.
A smile grew on her face.
“Sure.”
“Sure?”
“Yes, I’ll marry you today.”
“Yeah?”
“Yes, my love, I pinky promise to marry you today.”
Carina twisted toward her fully, one knee sliding against Maya’s thigh, her hand warm where it cradled her cheek. The pact crinkled softly between her fingers.
Maya didn’t rush to meet her.
She let the moment stretch, just enough to feel it.
The loft was quiet. Sunlight pooling on the wooden floor. The faint scent of strawberries lingering in the air. Their whole life scattered around them in half-unpacked boxes.
Carina’s thumb brushed along Maya’s cheekbone, almost absentmindedly. Almost like she couldn’t quite believe she was allowed to touch her like this.
And then, Maya closed the distance.
The kiss wasn’t urgent.
It was steady.
Soft and unhurried.
Full of gentle love and a lifetime of promises.
Lips warm and familiar, fitting together the way they had learned to over months of shared mornings and quiet nights. Carina’s hand slid from Maya’s cheek to the back of her neck, fingers threading gently into her hair. Maya’s palm came to rest at Carina’s waist, thumb brushing the worn knit of the blue sweater.
The same sweater.
The same girl.
Fifteen years later.
Except she could kiss her now.
Maya’s heart fluttered at the thought.
She exhaled softly against Carina’s mouth, something somewhere between a laugh and a sigh, and leaned closer, deepening it just slightly. Not hungry. Not frantic.
Certain.
Carina felt it again, like she had every time she kissed Maya; not fireworks, not nerves.
Just rightness.
Like stepping into a room she’d been building toward her whole life.
She felt loud.
Maya made her feel loud.
Maya pulled back first, but only far enough that their foreheads rested together. Their noses brushed when they both smiled.
"Come on then, sunshine," she nuzzled their noses together, "let's finish what we started."
The loft burst into a flurry of activity after that.
Maya rummaged through the antique desk Carina had thrifted before they even moved in, her hands picking through semi-organised files to pull out things she guessed they would need to get married.
Across the loft, hangers slid softly along the rail.
Carina stood in front of the closet, considering. Not overthinking. Just choosing. She pulled out the cream linen dress she’d bought from a little boutique in Milan a few months before she left and had never had the chance to wear. Simple. Soft. She laid it carefully on the bed. Reaching back into the closet for a red knit cardigan since they’d be contending with February weather.
For Maya, she chose a navy button-down, the one that made her look quietly devastating without trying.
They moved around each other in easy proximity. A brush of shoulders. A hand at a waist to pass by. The kind of closeness that no longer startled either of them.
Maya stacked the documents into a neat pile.
Carina stepped into the dress.
Neither of them said are we really doing this?
Neither of them needed to.
In no time they were walking up the red brick steps into the courthouse, documents in Maya’s hand, the pact folded into the breast pocket of her jacket.
“Hello,” Maya said, approaching the clerk after a short wait in line. “We would like to get married.”
“When?”
“Uh… today…?”
“Oh,” the clerk straightened in her seat. “I see…”
“Is that… possible?” Maya asked, squeezing Carina’s hand.
“Highly unlikely.”
“Can you have a look for us-” she read the woman’s name badge, “Louanne? It’s just, I kind of pinky promised I would marry her today.”
Louanne looked between the pair of them and smiled, turning to her computer. “Let me see what I can do.”
Maya glanced at Carina, giving her a soft smile. Carina returned it, squeezing her hand three times.
“Huh,” Louanne chuckled.
“Is that a good… huh?” Carina asked.
“Yes, I have a cancellation in 40 minutes.”
“We’ll take it!”
Louanne laughed, “Y’all are lucky we never have same day appointments. And not least on Valentine’s day.”
Maya’s eyes widened, “I- did- I forgot it was Valentine’s day.”
Carina smiled, her eyes twinkling, “me too.”
“Well happy Valentine’s, my love.” Maya beamed, pressing a kiss to Carina’s cheek.
“Happy Valentine’s, Amore Mio.”
“The appointment is yours,” Louanne said. “Now, take this paperwork and fill it in and then take it down to the office at the end, Florence will sort you out,” she finished, sliding a stack of pages under the glass and pointing to a desk at the end with a slightly shorter queue.
They moved to the small writing ledge by the window, the stack of forms suddenly very real in Maya’s hands.
Maya filled them out in neat, precise block letters. Carina’s handwriting looped and slanted, a little rushed, a little impatient.
Every so often their shoulders bumped.
Every so often they caught each other smiling.
Forty minutes.
Forty minutes between pinky promise and wife.
Florence barely looked up as they passed the papers back. She scanned through them, checked their ID, checked Maya’s social security number and Carina’s Visa, and then pulled out a big red stamp.
“Have a seat. We’ll call you.”
They sat side by side in molded plastic chairs that had probably witnessed hundreds of weddings. Some grand. Some reluctant. Some rushed.
Carina reached for Maya’s hand again.
“Are you nervous?” she whispered.
Maya considered it.
“No,” she said honestly. “Are you?”
Carina smiled slowly. “No.”
Time passed with them holding hands.
There was no burst of panic.
No 'we didn't think this through'.
Instead it felt right.
It felt like coming home.
Maya watched the second hand on the courthouse clock drag its way forward. She’d spent her entire life counting seconds; for starting guns, for split times, for medals decided by fractions. This felt different. There was no race here. No finish line to break through.
Just a quiet unfolding.
She glanced at Carina beside her.
This wasn’t impulse.
It wasn’t nostalgia.
It wasn’t a late-night pact echoing into adulthood.
It was choice.
Maya thought about the girl with the accent greeting her as she entered the dorm room. The one who brought joy into her life. The one who was desperate to fall in love. The one who rubbed her belly after too many strawberries. The one who had to bury parts of herself in order to survive.
Then she looked at the woman sitting beside her now.
Authentic. Loud. Hers.
She squeezed Carina’s hand three times.
Carina glanced down at their joined hands.
She hadn’t expected calm.
She had expected adrenaline. Chaos. At least a flicker of doubt. That was how she'd felt on her last wedding day.
Instead, she felt steady.
Calm.
For so long her life had been movement, Sicily, Seattle, Rome, Milano, Seattle again. Men who almost fit. Rings that almost stayed. Versions of herself that almost felt complete.
But this... this felt settled.
Secure.
Right.
She studied Maya from the corner of her eye.
The same focused set of her jaw. The same softness when she wasn’t aware of being watched. The same blue eyes that had once felt like safety in a tiny studio apartment.
She realised now that Maya was the only place that truly made her feel safe. The only place she felt truly herself.
A door opened.
“Maya Bishop and Carina DeLuca?”
They stood together.
And walked forward.
The room was grand.
Marble flooring stretched out ahead of them, pale and veined, echoing softly beneath Carina’s heels and the steady tread of Maya’s boots. The sound felt too loud at first, like the room was announcing them.
The walls were lined with wooden panels that climbed all the way to a vaulted ceiling, warm against the cool stone. Above, a circular skylight poured daylight into the center of the space, sunlight spilling down in a soft column that made the dust swirling look like confetti.
It didn’t feel like any old Saturday.
It felt important.
Theirs.
Tall windows framed the city outside; traffic moving, people hurrying, life continuing. But here everything felt suspended. Still. Sacred in a quiet, civic sort of way.
There were rows of polished wooden benches. A small arrangement of white flowers sat near the front dotted with red roses, simple but thoughtful. Not extravagant. Just enough to acknowledge that something life-altering happened in this room, over and over again.
Even if they weren’t getting married on a whim born from fifteen year old ink and too much wine, Maya would’ve liked to get married here.
It matched them.
Solid. Unpretentious. Filled with light.
“Maya Bishop and Carina DeLuca?” the officiant asked.
“Yes,” Maya nodded, passing him the paperwork, feeling Carina squeeze her hand.
He smiled and flipped through the pages. “Okay, let’s do this.”
Maya blinked. “Right now?”
"Bambina."
He looked up. “Yes. That’s generally how this works.”
“Sorry. I just-” Maya gestured vaguely between them. “You don’t need to re-check anything? Our IDs? Fingerprints? I feel like there should be more… verifying.”
The officiant smiled patiently. “My clerks verified you downstairs.”
“Right. Yes. Of course. Clerks.” Maya nodded, as if this was deeply reassuring. “And there’s no… waiting period? Or quiz? I assumed there might be a quiz.”
“A quiz?” Carina echoed, delighted.
“I don’t know,” Maya defended. “Like, ‘What is her favorite movie?’ ‘What side of the bed does she sleep on?’ I could pass, by the way.”
The officiant chuckled. “Are you having second thoughts?”
“No! No,” Maya said immediately, turning to Carina. “Absolutely not. I’m just- I like to know- I’ve never done this before.”
Carina smiled softly. “I have,” she said gently. “But not in America. And yes, this is quite normal.”
Maya exhaled. “Okay. Good. Great." She looked back at the officiant. "I'm sorry- please continue."
"The good thing is, I have done this before, Miss Bishop, so you are in good hands," he smiled, picking up his book, "now. Do you have witnesses?"
Silence.
Maya blinked.
“Witnesses?” she repeated faintly.
"Oh no-"
"We forgot."
"We forgot," Carina confirmed, squeezing her hand.
"Sometimes," the officiant said kindly, "there are law students who loiter around, or custodial staff who are happy to witness a wedding."
"We'll be two minutes," Maya said, grabbing Carina’s hand and pulling her out into the waiting room.
There was an older couple near the back.
A man scrolling on his phone.
And-
Two young women sitting shoulder to shoulder near the aisle. One in a University of Washington hoodie. The other with a messy bun and a backpack at her feet. They were whispering, hands tangled together, trying very hard not to stare at the brides.
Carina saw it first.
The familiarity.
The softness.
The way their knees touched like it was instinct.
She squeezed Maya’s hand.
"Perfect," she whispered.
Maya followed her gaze.
Her breath caught, just slightly.
They didn’t hesitate long.
Carina stepped toward them first, warmth and mischief in her smile. “Hi,” she said gently. “This might sound strange, but would you two like to witness a marriage?”
The girls stared at them.
“Like. Right now?” the one in the hoodie asked.
“Yes,” Maya said, finding her voice. “Right now. We're... getting married and we need-”
"Yes! Definitely!" The one with brown hair piled into a messy bun said. “Oh my God. Yes.”
Carina glanced back at Maya.
For a split second, it was like looking into a time loop.
Like the universe had decided to be obvious about it.
Maya stepped closer to Carina again, their shoulders brushing.
“Guess we found our witnesses,” she said softly
"Ready to get married?" Carina whispered, joining their lips.
"So ready."
They led the girls back into the grand room and stopped in front of the officiant, presenting their witnesses.
"Your names."
"Millie Bexley and Carmen De Soto," the blonde one with the hoodie answered for them.
"Perfect, take a seat. Okay. Ready?" He asked, mainly looking at Maya.
"Ready."
"Sì, ready."
"Okay," he nodded, picking up his book again.
"Welcome to the marriage of Maya Kathleen Bishop and Carina Lucia DeLuca. On today, this day of love," he added. "Marriage is a partnership, the highest form of love and a commitment to one another that is rooted in tradition. The sanctity of marriage has existed for centuries. And today, Carina and Maya are stepping into that."
Maya felt Carina squeeze her hands. She sneaked a look at her and saw her girlfriend's eyes already filling with tears.
"Okay, now the important stuff. Turn to face one another and I'm going to ask you a question- here's the quiz portion, Maya."
Maya chuckled and turned, facing Carina. She drank her in, wanting to take in every last detail. She was marrying Carina, she wanted to remember this forever.
"Maya, you'll go first."
She nodded, eyes falling on Carina's face, feeling herself melting into her gold-speckled gaze as she stood there.
"Maya Kathleen Bishop, do you take Carina Lucia DeLuca to be your lawfully wedded wife?"
"I do."
"Wonderful, and Carina Lucia DeLuca, do you take Maya Kathleen Bishop to be your lawfully wedded wife?"
"I do."
"Okay! It's going great so far! Do you guys want to say your own vows or repeat after me?" He asked, turning the page in his book.
"Say our own," Maya nodded.
"Perfect," the officiant stepped back, and it felt like it was just them.
"Me first?" Carina asked.
Maya gave her a small nod.
"My love, when we woke up this morning, I didn't think today would be the day that I married you,” Carina said, squeezing Maya’s hand. “I knew it would come, from the moment I saw you in Topsies. And maybe subconsciously before that. But I didn't expect today,” she laughed. “To our guests,” she turned to Millie and Carmen briefly, “it may sound like a whim, but you and I know this is fifteen years in the making.”
She took a deep breath.
“Thank you for helping me be loud. Thank you for being patient with me and my heart. Thank you for showing me what true love feels like. I may have done this before, but it was never like this,” she shook her head in disbelief. “You hold my heart so carefully. You- you make me laugh. You are the person I want to come home to. You are home. And, Maya, I promise to always make you lasagne. I promise to never stop you from running. And I promise to love you loudly."
Maya swallowed, reaching out to wipe Carina’s tears, smiling when her girlfriend reached out and did the same, catching hers.
"Carina. Sunshine. First of all, above anything else, I promise to help you be loud,” she said, looking deep into those addictive brown eyes. “I promise to love you, and support you. And I promise you that you can always be loud with me.”
Carina’s lip gave a wobble, as tears filled her eyes.
“I've loved you since the day we met, or... not long after that. I loved the version of you that existed in our twenties. But I love this version of you even more. The version of you that is loud and unapologetic and authentic and you. The version of you that knows her heart. I am so glad that we did this," she reached into her pocket and retrieved the marriage pact, unfolding it. "That drunken whim changed my life forever. Even if it did take fifteen years. I never stopped loving you. And it has been an honour to be loved by you.”
“Now,” she laughed, bringing the marriage pact in front of her, “in the words of our twenty year old selves. Carina, I promise to not leave you at the altar, not back out, not make an excuse, not go to bed angry. Perhaps more importantly, I promise to never call you dramatic when you're ranting in Italian. And finally, I promise you can steal any and all of my clothes. Carina, I love you. And I want to spend the rest of my life loving you. That, I promise."
From the benches their witnesses applauded.
They both laughed shyly, pulling into one another before realising they couldn’t kiss yet.
"Okay, do you have rings?"
"No, we'll-, we decided we could work that one out later," Maya chuckled.
"Great okay, so. By the power vested in me, by the great state of Washington, I now pronounce you married. You may kiss."
There was no hesitation.
They both leaned in at the same time, a quiet, instinctive meeting in the middle.
Carina’s hand slid up to Maya’s jaw just as Maya’s fingers found the curve of Carina’s waist. Their foreheads brushed first, a small, almost clumsy bump that made Carina breathe out a laugh against Maya’s mouth.
And then they kissed.
Soft.
Not hurried. Not for show. Not to prove anything to the room.
Just lips pressing together in a way that felt deeply familiar. In a way that was theirs.
Carina’s thumb traced slowly along Maya’s cheekbone.
Maya pulled her a fraction closer.
The world did not disappear.
It simply narrowed; to warmth, to breath, to lips pressed together, to the quiet certainty between them.
When they parted, it wasn’t dramatic. Their noses still brushed. Their foreheads rested together.
Married.
Neither of them said it.
They didn’t need to.
Applause filled the small room, warm and generous.
The rest passed in a blur.
Sign here. Initial there. A pen exchanged between them. Carina laughed quietly when she almost signed her old name out of habit. Maya squeezed her knee under the small wooden table.
Their hands stayed joined as they left the courthouse. The afternoon felt softer now, blurred with love
"Now that..." Maya said, as she looked at the paper in their hands, "is legally binding."