Ben struggled with the door knob for a moment, then pushed the door open wide with one foot. He was carrying Melody in his arms, which he’d insisted upon. It may have been a silly tradition, and he may not have understood the point of it, but just because they’d gotten married at one in the morning in Gretna Green didn’t mean they couldn’t have something traditional.

“There,” he said, setting her down inside the room and turning to shut the door. “And once we figure out where we’re going to live, I’ll carry you across that door, too. In fact,” he teased, “If you want, I’ll carry you across every doorway you come across for the next month… Mrs. Ben Crouch,” he added, leaning in to kiss her for probably the millionth time that evening.