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You were the most beautiful thing Robby had ever seen.
That’s what he thought the very first time he saw you sitting at a small table at his favorite coffee shop. He’d actually stopped for a moment just to watch you before he left with his coffee in hand and a deep regret that he hadn’t taken the opportunity to say something to you. Anything at all. A simple “Hi” would have been better than nothing.
He saw you again less than a week later sitting at the same table at almost exactly the same time. He couldn’t help but hope this was a new routine for you and he’d be able to see more of you. Once he’d retrieved his coffee, he took a deep breath and headed in your direction. Rehearsing lines of conversation in his head, he completely missed the teenager intercepting his path and plowed right into him sending his coffee over his scrubs and onto the floor. Fuck.
After assuring the kid he was fine, his gaze snapped up to find you already watching him. Heat flooded his face and he knew he had to be red to the tips of his ears. Damn it. He offered you a weak, pathetic smile before hurrying out the door, anxious to put the embarrassment behind him.
He saw you the next two days as well, but barely glanced in your direction, still stinging from what he now referred to as ‘the incident’ even if only in his head. The third day, someone called his name as he approached the counter. He turned at the sound and found you smiling at him and holding a cup of coffee with his name on it. He glanced from you to the counter and back again before making his way to you.
“Hi,” he said, but it was more question than greeting.
“Hi,” you echoed with a smile. “I hope you don’t mind I took the liberty of ordering your usual.” You gestured to the empty seat across from you.
He slid into it, his brow furrowed in confusion. “I’m sorry, but do I know you.” It seemed unlikely. Surely, he’d remember meeting you, no matter the circumstances.
“No, but I was kind of hoping you were going to introduce yourself the day your coffee suffered death by teenager.” Your smile had turned sheepish.
He studied you for a beat before laughing, the sound brighter than he was used to hearing from himself. “I was. Michael Robinavitch.” He shook your offered hand as you introduced yourself.
And that, as they say, was the beginning of a beautiful relationship.
Which brings him to now, exactly one year later. When he’d first considered your upcoming anniversary a couple of months ago, he’d thought about booking a trip or a nice dinner at Altius. You’d had a different suggestion. And as you stepped into view at the end of the aisle, he was so glad you did.
You were stunning. Exquisite. Breathtaking. Most importantly, his.
His vision went blurry as tears flooded his eyes and he hastily wiped them away, not wanting to miss a moment of your procession. Jack dropped a heavy hand on his shoulder. “You’re one lucky son of a bitch,” his friend said in a tone low enough only Robby could hear.
“I am very much aware,” he assured before stepping forward to meet you as you reached the end of the aisle. He took your hand in his as he smiled at you, trying to convey everything he was feeling in that moment through a simple look.
“Hi,” you said as you returned his smile.
His own widened. “Hi.”
The two of you just stared at one another until the officiant cleared her throat. Neither of you looked at her.
“We should probably get married now,” you said, earning a few laughs from those near enough to hear.
“We probably should, yes,” he agreed as you turned toward the front.
He had started falling for you the very first moment he saw you. The rest of the fall had been hard and fast and he couldn’t regret a moment of it. You were his forever and he’d spend the rest of his life proving it.