Page 116 of Cross + Catherine: The Companion

The Wedding

Cross POV

“Smile,” his mother murmured as she checked his suit.

Cross had all he could do not to roll his damn eyes when Emma fussed at his tie. A grown man, with adult children of his own, even, and his mother still acted like he was her baby. “The tie is fine, Ma.”

“Says you.” Emma patted his cheek with a warm palm, and drew his gaze to hers. There, he found childhood memories, comfort, and a mother’s love. She had always been a safe place for him, of sorts. A soft spot to fall. “Now, smile.”

“I am.”

Emma lifted a brow. “Not really.”

Cross tilted his head a bit to look at the mirror behind his mother. She was right. There wasn’t exactly a scowl on his face, but his smile wasn’t quite in place, either. “Huh.”

“Big day.”

“It is,” he agreed.

“It’s okay to be a little sad about it, too.”

Cross frowned. “I don’t think I’m sad, Ma.”

“Sad about what?” Calisto barreled into the private suite with two garment bags thrown over his arm. Likely his mother’s dress, and his father’s tux. “What did I miss, now?”

“Cross is sad.”

Emma tossed Calisto a smile over her shoulder, and his father returned it before his gaze cut to Cross.

“Sad, huh?”

“I’m not sad,” Cross denied. “I’m just …”

Calisto tossed the garment bags to a nearby chair, and came to stand beside his wife. “Not ready.”

Cross looked at his father.

Calisto stared back.

For a long while, the two men stayed like that. Suspended in a silence that only the fathers of daughters could truly understand at the end of the day. He wondered if this—this heaviness in his chest, and the waiting of this day—was what his father had felt like when he gave Camilla away on her wedding day.

“That’s a good way to put it,” Cross settled on saying.

Calisto nodded. “I know. You’re never going to be ready, son. No father ever is.”

Cross let out a hard sigh, and glanced down at his hands. He fumbled with the cufflinks on his suit jacket because it was just easier than talking for the moment. He really didn’t have much to say.

“Emma, go grab Catherine,” Calisto murmured.

“Sure, Cal.”

Cross glanced up in time to catch his mother give his father a kiss on his cheek before she quickly headed for the door.

“But be quick, Emmy, we have to get dressed,” Calisto called over his shoulder.

“You always have to rush.”

Calisto rolled his eyes. “That woman, I swear …”