Page 52 of Cross + Catherine: The Companion

The Day

Cross POV

The reflection in the tall, stand-up mirror was a familiar sight, and yet, somehow new, too. It certainly wasn’t the first time that Cross had seen himself in a tux. He’d worn a bowtie before.

And yet, none of this was the same at all.

It was his wedding day, after all. His one and only wedding day. There would never be another day like this one in his lifetime.

Not when he was marrying his childhood love. Catherine had always been the girl of his fucking dreams.

Cross intended to soak in every moment of this day that he possibly could. He couldn’t wait to marry Catherine, but he also didn’t want to rush the day, either. Not if that meant he might miss something.

He had been waiting for this day for far longer than he could even remember. It was finally time to enjoy what this day actually meant.

Always.

It meant always.

Cross tugged up the sleeve of his jacket, and checked his watch. A new gold Rolex with diamonds on the tips of the minute and second hands. A gift—for his wedding—from his sister and her husband.

They knew his tastes well.

The time said he only had a short while left before he needed to go downstairs, and take his spot. The knock on the door of the private room drew Cross’s attention away from the time and his reflection in the mirror.

“Yeah, it’s open,” Cross said.

His mother and father slipped into the room, and quickly closed the door behind them. He still heard the murmurings of those who were gathered outside waiting for him to finally come out. Their family and friends, and probably some of Catherine’s people, too.

His mother gave him a brilliant smile, while his father whistled low.

“Look at you,” Calisto said.

Cross chuckled. “You say that like I don’t look good every day, or something.”

His father grinned. “You and that arrogance, son.”

“Wouldn’t be me without it.”

Emma’s laughter colored up the room. “No, it definitely would not be you, my boy.”

Calisto stepped aside to let his wife come closer to their son. Emma’s outstretched—warm and familiar—hands cupped Cross’s cheeks. Her hands that had never hurt him, and only showered him with love throughout his life.

He adored his mother.

“How did the dress reveal go at the Astoria?” she asked.

“Amazing.”

Emma beamed. “Yes?”

“Yeah, Ma.” Cross shrugged. “She’s so beautiful. Blew my damn mind.”

“Really?”

Cross laughed. “I might have cried a little.”

Emma stroked his smiling cheeks with her thumbs, and her gaze glistened with unshed tears. “I hope you know that we’re all so happy for you. We are all so proud of you, Cross.”