I tighten my fingers around Zane's hand even though every nerve in my body is screaming to pull away.
The officiant's voice rises, calm and steady. "Do you, Elaine Hartwell, take Zane Whitmore to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold, in sickness and in health, for richer or poorer, for better or worse, forsaking all others, keeping yourself only unto him, so long as you both shall live?"
I say the words, carefully, deliberately, forcing the syllables out even though my stomach twists into knots. "…I do." My voice is steady, but my knees tremble. I glance at Lucas for reassurance. He squeezes my arm once, a subtle anchor, then steps back to give me space.
