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Rosalie and Emmett decided to marry again in late December. It would be a small, beautiful affair and everyone wanted to help with the preparations. Jamie, who had never been invited to a wedding before, was excited for the novelty of it and sensing his anticipation, Emmett made a running joke that he'd forgotten to RSVP.
The snow had begun to stick thinly to the ground by the day of the wedding. They could see the spindles on frost on the windows, snowflakes keeping their shape on their skin. Alice had another suit prepared for Jamie, this time a light navy with an embroidered tie that she was snippy about having the right knot.
Upon his fidgeting, she had given him a fierce look. "Don't make me put you into something salmon," she told him and Jamie instantly quelled himself. Jasper had smiled lightly from where he was tying his own tie and he watched Alice as an admirer would, sending Jamie a look that told him she'd follow through with her threat if he wasn't careful.
Jamie did as he was told after that, following orders in a bid to take the attention away from himself. It was when dusk began to seep, sun lowering to warm the snow with its evening oranges, that they settled for the ceremony.
They stayed in Ithaca, not far from their home in a large, woodland clearing. They were close enough to town for cars to reach them, accessible through a skinny, uphill, dirt road that reminded Jamie of the ones in Forks. Rosalie didn't want to run in her dress so Esme drove her, parking just shy of the pebbled path that led to the makeshift, rose-petalled aisle. There were no seats and on one side stood Alice and Jasper, arm in arm as they waited for Rosalie.
Jamie stood on the other side, Esme joining him in a lovely, blue lace dress and touched his wrist fondly. Emmett stood at the end of the aisle, Carlisle behind him as the officiant beneath an archway of wild flora. He told Jamie of his past long ago, open about his Christianity and what it had meant to him both in life and in death. It amazed Jamie that his compassion even reached the ability to unfurl himself, content, unregretful, and for the sake of guiding Jamie to his own acceptance.
His selflessness was something that pressured Jamie's chest. Not a jealously or pride, but something nasty that told him how ungrateful he had been. Carlisle stood before them all then, with nothing but love for his family, trying to fulfil what they had each lost by building them something to cherish and be cherished by.
When he saw Rosalie, Jamie felt that pressure tenfold. She looked beautiful as always, but with her usual elegance, she looked happy. Her dress was of untarnished white, trailing shortly behind her with sleeves embroidered with pale, winding flowers. Her hands were hidden beneath a bouquet of twined violets, the thin veil atop her golden crown of hair brushing the petals with every step.
