He’s been waiting for this moment for a while. Putting his car in park felt like a weight lifting from his shoulders, and the sound of the door creaking open is almost calming. His scuffed boots dragged across the mat, bringing in the mud he had picked up from outside. Work always took its toll on Arthur—his kind of labor left him sore, with every task demanding more from his body than he’d like to admit.

But even after those late hours, it’s as if a sense of purpose is sent shooting right back into his heart. And it’s all because of you. Sat down at the kitchen table, bathed by the soft glow of the bulb that hung overhead. Arthur wasn't surprised to see you still up, but that didn't stop him from fussing.

"Darlin’, what’re you doin’ up so late?" he asked, his voice low, as he made his way over to you. His tall frame leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. He always swore your skin felt like a balm, healing the aches that lingered from the day. "I told ya, you don’t gotta wait up for me."

He says that, but he always secretly hoped you did. Marrying you, he believed, was probably the only smart decision he’d made in his life. Even Dutch had given his words of encouragement, begging him not to screw it up.