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Tosca smiles at me when I explain this to them. "How does this weekend look to you?"
Sergio's mom blinks rapidly, then surprises us all with her response. "I can make that happen," she says, perhaps the first acquiescence she's made.
I grin.
"This weekend would be perfect."
* * *
CHAPTERTWENTY-EIGHT
Sergio
When I make a decision,I plow forward. When I want something, I go for it, hard, no apologies, no backtracking, no half-assed excuses.
In other words, we get married a few days later.
Eden doesn't want to wait, and neither do I.
Who can blame her? She's spent her entire adult life under false pretenses, the past however many years married to a man that turned out not to be her husband.
I don't blame her for wanting something real, authentic.
And I know the sooner she takes my name, the safer she is. We don't know when this blowback from the cartels will come. Could be a day, a month, or years. But there will be blowback. There always is.
We put precautions in place, and Mario’s full-time job is monitoring everything we do. We’ll know when they make a return. For now, they have to answer to the federal authorities who have their leaders in custody. That will buy us some time.
I don't actually give a shit about this anymore. Because I'm getting married to the love of my life.
All the wedding details come together like the unfolding petals of a flower.
Tosca is absolutely in her glory, commanding the people that are serving our food, mixing our drinks, frosting our cake, whatever the fuck. It's beautiful, and elegant, and timeless. Like my fiancée.
Eden says she's done with superstitions and following man-made rules. So the morning of the wedding, she comes to me, dressed in her beautiful white dress, and asks me to zip her up.
I kiss her cheek and arrange her veil.
“You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen in my entire life.” I mean it.
“Alright, now. You have to stop because I’m wearing eye makeup and if you make me cry, it’ll get all messed up. I have a job to do and that means taking pictures and taking vows.”
“Fine, then,” I say with a growl. “You look…good. And I love you.”
Mario is my best man, and even Starla’s in the wedding. Both of them definitely look a little the worse for wear, but they're on the mend. There's something about the bright sunlight, Cape Anne and the salty air that does a body good. I'm glad Starla’s here, if anything to get Eden the peace of mind she deserves.
Eden doesn't have much use for preachers these days, and who can blame her. But when Romeo asks their parish priest to come and officiate the wedding, she agrees. “When in Rome,” she says with a wink. Works for me.
We take our vows on the pavilion at The Castle. It's a little overcast, so the twinkling lights the girls have set up all around the perimeter blink against the night sky, little bits of fairy dust to lend magic to this moment. An ivy-laced archway stands at the very front where the priest, who looks as old as dirt, stands waiting, holding a book.
I stand beside him, Mario next to me. I barely even look at the people present, because I only have eyes for one person.
Even though I saw Eden earlier today, she takes my breath away when I see her now. Dressed in a simple but form-fitting satin gown, she’s modest as always, so beautiful I want to frame her as a picture and keep her in my pocket. She holds a bouquet of white roses, and wears glittery red shoes. When I asked her about the shoes, she only shrugs.
“It makes me feel like Dorothy from The Wizard of Oz," she says. Starla says it's her signature piece, whatever that means.
She walks down the aisle to me. Her head held high. And when she reaches me, she grins up at me and takes my hand. "It's a miracle I didn't trip in these heels," she says.
I lean over and kiss her cheek. "You're the miracle." Here she is, the woman I love, in the flesh. Safe and sound, prepared to spend the rest of her life with me.
