If only it could last forever.
CHAPTER 31
I PEEK OUT THE WINDOW WHEN I HEAR THE STRING quartet begin to play what I’ve chosen as my processionaclass="underline" Bach’s Prelude in C.
Mom looks at me, her eyebrows raised.
I grin at her. “This is my surprise for you. I remember you saying it’s what you chose when you married Dad.”
Her eyes fill with tears, but I shake a finger at her. “No crying, remember? Your crying will ruin my makeup.”
Another glance out the window. Trish is walking down the aisle hand in hand with John-John. They take their places in front, John-John at Frey’s side, Trish to the left. I look at Mom. It’s our cue. She takes my hand and we go downstairs to where Dad is waiting at the gate to the garden.
Mom gives my hand one last squeeze before she places it in Dad’s. He leans over and pecks my cheek. “Your hands are cold as ice. Don’t be nervous. You look beautiful.”
Mom winks at me. “Here we go.”
She precedes us down the red carpet that’s been laid from the edge of the garden to a flower-strewn pergola. The officiate is waiting for us on the steps. It’s Pierre. I wonder with a grin if Frey will be disappointed that it’s not Hot Lips performing the ceremony.
This is the first time I’ve seen the garden since the workmen arrived yesterday. Three rows of chairs have been placed in a semicircle facing a raised dais. The chairs are filled with Mom and Dad’s friends and neighbors and at the front, David and Tracey. Lots of flowers. Everywhere. I sense Chael, too, though at the moment I’m too excited, nervous, terrified to look around.
My eyes focus on Frey. He’s waiting for me, John-John at his side. He steps forward to give Mom’s cheek a kiss and when she’s taken her place in the front row, his gaze turns to me.
In that moment, all our history, all our mistakes, all our past evaporates. It’s as if I’m seeing him for the first time. He reaches out a hand and Dad places my palm in his. Then Dad kisses my cheek, too, and joins Mom.
I can’t take my eyes off Frey. His wonderful familiar face suddenly looks different. It’s not a reflection of his clothes. He’s handsome in his tux, but he’s handsome in jeans and an old sweatshirt. It’s something new in his gaze when he looks at me.
It’s devotion. In his eyes. Shining from his face. A promise that he will never let me down. I knew he loved me. I didn’t know until this minute how much. Or realize how much I loved him. It’s magical. Joyous. I’m one of the lucky ones. I’ve found my soul mate.
He bends his head and whispers in my ear, “You are even more beautiful than I imagined you’d be.”
And in that instant, nervousness and fear disappear. I throw my arms around his neck and hold him—so tight I feel his breath catch. And then he’s hugging me back and I’ve never felt so safe.
Suddenly, laughter erupts from the guests seated behind us, and the officiate pulls us gently apart. “That’s at the end,” he quips.
And so I disentangle myself from Frey and we’re both grinning as the ceremony really begins.
The vows are simple, promises to be faithful, to love each other through dark days and light, to protect and defend each other. Uncomplicated concepts to mortals, but to us, vampire and shape-shifter, they take on a special meaning. We repeat them solemnly, together, eyes locked. We exchange rings, gold bands each engraved with one word: forever. Then Pierre proclaims us husband and wife.
“Now you may kiss the bride.”
And so Frey does. A deep, lingering kiss that has my heart pounding until the sound of applause brings us up for air.
The recessional blasts from speakers hidden among the foliage. Frey watches my face as I recognize the song. Since I picked the processional, he insisted on choosing the appropriate recessional. “It’s perfect,” I say. “But who picked it out, you or Dad?”
Then there’s another gale of laughter and applause when the audience, too, recognizes the familiar composition.
What could be more fitting than the “Hallelujah Chorus”?
I’M MARRIED. I HAVE TO KEEP REPEATING IT LIKE A MANTRA TO BELIEVE IT. EVEN WITH ALL THE PEOPLE OFFERING CONGRATULATIONS AND MY FOLKS BEAMING, IT doesn’t seem real.
Chael approaches with his guests. Plural. He not only has a very young, very human, very French model type on his arm, but he’s brought someone else, too.
Vlad’s eyes twinkle as he bends low to kiss my hand. “You make a lovely bride,” he says.
You kept a low profile, I say with a smile. I didn’t know you were here.
I wasn’t sure you’d be pleased at my coming.
Frey and I are in your debt, I reply. You are always welcome.
Chael looks puzzled by the exchange but I don’t give him time to ask about it. I address myself again to Vlad. You’ll have to fill Chael in on our adventure.
Vlad nods and laughs. He looks very handsome in a tailored suit, his hair pulled away from his face and secured at the back of his neck. He, too, has a woman on his arm, but this one doesn’t look happy to have been brought to such a commonplace event. As a human, she no doubt expected more excitement from her vampire date.
Your date looks bored.
He grimaces and shoots her a sideways frown. I made a mistake bringing her. She’s too young and inexperienced to appreciate the beauty of this occasion.
Young, yes. Inexperienced, I doubt it.
That brings a chuckle from both Chael and Vlad and a stern look from the date, who probably guesses that we are having a conversation and she is more than likely the topic.
“Allons, cher, je veux un peu de champagne,” she says through pouty lips, pulling on Vlad’s arm.
He bows an apology and moves toward the buffet and bar set among the trees.
I look around for Frey. He’s chatting with some of my parent’s friends. He had thrown a questioning look Vlad’s way when he spied him among the guests, but he remained with the little knot by the buffet table. I join him now, slipping my arm through his. He nibbles my earlobe, using the diversion to whisper, “Everything all right?”
His eyes are on Vlad and Chael, now chatting it up with Mom and Dad. Vlad’s date still looks like she wants to be anywhere but here, but the sour expression is hidden behind a glass of champagne so I doubt my exuberant parents notice.
“Everything is more than all right.” I tip my face toward his. “I’ve never been happier.”
Trish is suddenly at our side, John-John beside her. She holds a silver cake knife. “Come on, you two. It’s time to cut the cake!”
She takes my hand and John-John takes Frey’s and we’re pulled to the end of the buffet table where the magnificent wedding cake is on proud display. Someone clangs a fork against a glass and in a minute, we’re surrounded.
Trish hands me the knife. Now this is going to be tricky. If I so much as get a mouthful of cake, there will be serious repercussions. I cut two small pieces and offer one to Frey.
Luckily, Frey knows the drill. I go first, stuffing a forkful of cake in his mouth; well, mostly in his mouth. He grins and uses his fingers to scoop up the excess, wiping them on a napkin Trish holds out. Then he holds up his piece of cake, but instead of aiming for my mouth, he swivels suddenly, leans down and pushes it at John-John.
An excited, surprised squeal and John-John grabs his father’s hand, and the two are soon covered mouth to chin in chocolate cake and whipped cream frosting. The guests howl in laughter. It’s a perfect distraction and before anyone notices I haven’t had a bite of cake, I’m wiping my lips and smacking in feigned appreciation.