'Love You to the Moon, Not Back' by Peyton James

At the front of our local church, my heartbeat stumbles over itself, tripping and carrying on inside my chest the way Daddy’s tractor always stuttered before it quit.

Only I ain’t quitting. No, sir. It’s too late for that.

Two missed periods too late.

Besides, I really do love Henry.

Sweet Henry who eats bran for breakfast every morning and only mows the lawn on Thursday nights at seven to avoid the afternoon sun.

He’s a nice man. A good man. A man you can rely on. The kind you marry—forever and ever, amen.

But, God, would anyone object if I hiked up my dress and took off down the aisle without my groom?

Mama certainly wouldn’t.

Head held high, she watches me from the front-row pew, her fingers strangling the embroidered handkerchief I bought for her when I was ten. That was the year she was always crying, until one day, I overheard her shout the D-word, and everything changed. Mama and I moved out and spent the summer camped beneath the stars. We stared into the vast unknown, and she told me how divorce didn’t mean she didn’t love Daddy—because she did. But he also didn’t make her heart leap like it should. She loved him to the moon, not back. There was a difference, she’d explained. Her heart needed more adventure.

Henry recites the vows he’s written, and my heartbeat sputters to a damn-near standstill when it’s my turn to speak.

I look at Mama. Mama looks at me.

My heart needs adventure, too.

Henry’s soft brown eyes bore into mine amid the hum of gasps and whispers. He deserves answers. And he’ll get them. But first, I need to find words to explain how I only love him to the moon.