She doesn't call me nearly as often as I would like to hear her voice. When her picture showed on the caller ID, I excused myself from my meeting, and walked down the hallway.

"Kari, babe is everything OK? You haven't called me in weeks."

"I know baby, I'm sorry. But, we text almost everyday. And yes, I'm OK. I'm great," she didn't sound convincing. Not as jubilant and enthusiastic as usual.

"I'm glad you're OK. I worry about you, I don't like you being alone."

"You don't have to worry babe, I can take care of myself."

"I know that Kari, I just wish you would let me care for you."

"Baby, you know I love you, right? I'm just... um, I just needed my independence."

"Kari, I know I love you. I know, I want you to love me. I think you really do. You just won't let yourself be in love with me."

"Baby, you're making this really hard for me. I called to ask you something. I want you to do something for me. And it's really, really important to me."

"Kari, you know there is probably nothing, this side of homicide, that I wouldn't do for you."

"I know baby. That's one of the things I absolutely love you for. But, this is going to be really hard for you. I'll understand if you say no."

"I feel like I'm going to regret this, but it's 'yes'. Its always 'yes', I can't say 'no' to you."

"You're the absolute best. Ever. I really do love you, babe."

"Kari, I will never not love you. What did I agree to?"

"Baaabe, I'm getting married."

I couldn't respond. My mind went numb, swirling fog, a dull buzzing. Was she still talking? I felt like an apparition, I could see and hear the hallway and activity around me, but I wasn't part of it, like I was trapped in a window pane, watching. In all these years, I had never asked her. She had made clear that her previous, public marital debacles, contaminated her idea of marriage. We were together, but not pledged. The window pane shattered...

"Scott, baby, please say something. Please, just... I never... I'm so sorry," she tried to sound repentant, I think, but my hearing was still muffled by the static in my brain.

"Kari, what do you want from me?" I could hear the knife of anger in my voice. I can't ever recall being truly upset with her, before today.

"Babe, I'm sorry. Really, I am. It was a bad idea. Never mind. I don't want anything to come between us."

"It already has, Kari." The knife of anger was no longer directed at her, but at me. I could feel the point of the dagger of despair piercing my heart, slowly, agonizingly slowly. My fingers tingled, as my heartbeat slowed, thumping erratically. I fought to steady my self. I have dealt with the pain of physical damage to my body, but only known this overwhelming sensation once before. "What do you want from me, Kari?"

"Babe, I want you to give me away at my wedding. I under..."

"For fuck's sake! Fuck! Kari, I love you, but fuck! Why? Why would you do this to me? I fucking love you. Never mind why. I'll do it," I surrendered.

"What? Really? You will?"

"I said 'yes'. It's always 'yes', Kari."

"Thank you so much, babe! You don't know how much this means to me! I love you. I do. I really do."

"Yeah."

"You're not happy for me, babe?"

"No, Kari. I'm not happy for me."

"Baby, if things were different... if it was different before. And then, you were so sad after she..."

"Don't, Kari!" the red threat of anger in my voice again. "I carried you in my heart for 20 years. And now I have to give you up. Give you away."

"I know baby. I'm sorry. But..."

"Forget it. I doesn't matter now."

"But you'll do it? You're OK with it?"

"I said 'yes'. No, I'm not OK with it. I'm doing it because I will probably never see you smile at me again, if I don't. And, I want your smile to be my last living memory."

"Thank you, Thank you. Thank you. I really do love you, babe."

"Yeah. I gotta go," bitterness in every syllable. "Text me with the details."

Two weeks later, I was sitting on a hotel bed in Hollywood, not getting dressed for the pre nuptial dinner.

"Babe, everybody is here at the restaurant. Dinner is at 7. Will you be here soon? I can't wait for you to meet him. You're really going to like him! You have a lot in common." I listened to the voice mail as I stared at my boots across the carpeted floor.

A couple minutes later, I saw her name reappear on the caller ID. I was going to let it go to voicemail, again, but I reluctantly answered.

"Kari, I can't make dinner."

"What? Why? I wanted everyone to meet and get to know each other. My two favorite men together."

"I can't, Kari. I don't want to know him. I'm sorry, I just can't."

"What about tomorrow? Are you going to blow me off? I thought I could count on you. I thought you loved me," she didn't need to manipulate me.

"I do love you. I promised to be there tomorrow. I will never let you down, but I can't pretend tonight. I'm sorry."

"But tomorrow? You promise?"

"Promise. Good night, Kari. Go have fun."

We hadn't been alone together in a few months, I sometimes forget just how stunningly beautiful she is. Fifty five years old. She looked like an ageless Greek goddess, wearing a sumptuously, form fitting, ivory silk, Vera Wang gown. A huge diamond was set in the platinum engagement ring circling her delicate finger. A ring I hadn't seen before. The ring I never gave her. A ring worth more than my truck.

Alone in the foyer, I lifted her bridal veil, and gazed into her incendiary blue eyes, for what I presumed would be the last time. I tried to fake a smile for her. I could see the conflict in her glamorously, mascara outlined eyes, looking up at me, the swell of a tear forming.

As I dabbed the tear with my handkerchief, the slightest, saddest smile tried to curl the corner of her mouth. Those perfect lips, twitched. I kissed her. I put all my lost years of loving her into that kiss. I knew I would never kiss her like that again. We held that kiss, passionate but not vulgar, for a long, enduring time. When we parted, I felt like I was being torn in half. I didn't wipe her smudged lipstick, my gift to the groom. She had been mine first.

The music started, I covered her impossibly beautiful face with the fragile veil. She placed her arm in mine, and the usher opened the ornate double doors. I walked her down the aisle, row after row of her many friends, her fractured family, a cast of other celebrities, entertainers, athletes. Some I recognized, many I didn't, a few of her closest friends, she had previously introduced me to. I'm sure many guests were curious about my identity. Who is this guy walking her down the aisle? With each measured step, a memory passed, every one of the too brief moments, of our infrequent times together.

We arrived at the altar, the groom in his tailored Armani tuxedo, flanked by his matching posse, I mean groomsmen. He was a bit taller than me, maybe 6 foot 2, much younger than me, ten years younger than her, probably. I guess I expected my replacement to be a Hollywood Adonis, but he wasn't. In my brief assessment of him, he was not heartthrob handsome and not pro athlete built.

I didn't know anything about him, except that he was the man she chose, not me. I knew she had other boyfriends, she was never exclusive. She was long removed from a committed relationship, and I was too wounded, from mine reaching its natural end. A couple of times, she had tried to discuss him with me, I think, but whether jealously or selfishly, I spurned her hope that we could be friends.

Now, he stood beside her, as I reluctantly drew the veil and revealed her famously symmetrical, seductively feminine, eternally youthful face, to the attendees. I presented my last love to an unknown rival, bitter bile burning in my throat. I smirked, when he noticed her smudged lipstick, and cast a quick glare at me. She will be really mad at me when she finds out that I blemished her artistically applied makeup.

She gave me a last loving smile, not her fabulous red carpet smile, but her scintillating, inviting, heartfelt smile. The same smile that enraptured me all those forgotten years ago. I caught a shade of sadness cross her eyes, as they lowered, and she turned to face her fiancee. I was certain I would never see that smile again. That's the only reason I agreed to participate in this heart breaking ritual.

The service and nuptials were a simple Catholic wedding, but droned tediously in my ears. I haven't been to mass in years, I don't think she had either. I knew we were both raised Catholic, but we never really discussed it.

Just before the vows, the Priest asked "... if any person objects to this union, speak now or forever hold your peace..."

I tried.

I honestly tried to force myself to be still, but it burst out. "Kari...".

She looked at me, subtly shaking her head, "NO!", eyes pleading.

"... you didn't wait 20 years to marry the wrong man. You told me once to come take what was mine." Two quick, long strides of my black pointed boots brought me to her. "I was broken then. I wanted to, but I couldn't. I need my muse. I need you. I love you!"

I stooped and scooped up the bride. My Kari. Her arms wrapped around my neck as I spun away and stepped down, off the dais. I felt the commotion behind us, sensed the buzzing of the audience, and pushed through the outstretched arms. Through all the rustling and shouting and cursing, bombarding us, I heard her, "I love you" softly echo in my ears, as I stole her away down the aisle.

Then we were bursting through the church doors, and into the brilliant future...