Dancing by the Sea
Page 17
Zamira stood on tip-toe and wrapped her arms around his neck, sliding her body against his. “It’s passion, Armando. And it belongs to us.”
Epilogue
“I’m so nervous!” Zamira looked out over the familiar and beloved faces in the crowded chapel. Tall windows with white sheers let in the late afternoon sunshine. Indoor palm trees decorated with white ribbons lined the walls, hiding the ugly blue wainscoting. Four rows of chairs were on either side of the white paper aisle. She breathed in. White roses in vases perfumed the air.
“It’s not as if you’ll be surprised in the bedroom,” Aunt Tildy observed. “Already living together.”
Zamira’s mother and father both pretended not to hear that.
“You can take your seats now, the pianist is here!” Sophie popped her head into the small room off the side of the chapel foyer and grinned. “No need to be nervous. You know what they say—hiccups before the performance guarantees a stellar show.”
“This is not a show!” Zamira ran her fingers over the smooth silk of her ivory gown. She and JoJo had created the sleeveless design with the full skirt and fitted bodice. Somehow, real life had managed to outshine her dreams.
“You look gorgeous.” Her mother cried and kissed her cheek, following Aunt Tildy out of the room. “I’m just so happy. Do I look too young to be a grandma? Never mind, Tildy, don’t answer that.”
Her father, tears in his dark brown eyes, sniffed and adjusted the ivory rosebud pinned to his gray lapel. “This is a beautiful day, and you are a radiant bride. If your aunt knew the wedding march she might have played it herself.”
“No need for that now.” Zamira smiled and peeked out of the door down the aisle. Armand was there, waiting for her, with Alex by his side in a miniature matching gray tuxedo. Her heart couldn’t be any fuller. “I’m so glad you’re here, Papi.”
The pianist, a harried looking woman with mussed hair in a wrinkled dress, sat with her hands poised over the keyboard. Sophie gave the woman a nod, and she started to play. The wrong key.
Zamira’s stomach clenched as she fought nervous giggles.
The pianist tried again, this time striking the right notes.
Arm in arm with her father, Zamira left the compact room and walked down the aisle, passing Chantal, who had welcomed Zamira into their lives with wine, Cheerios and kindness, showing her how to be with Alex so the transition to motherhood wasn’t so awkward. Chantal’s boyfriend, Scott, sat next to her. The dance troupe was all there, except for Christine, who’d left for Vegas to be a stripper rather than stay and face the music in South Florida. And Tiff, her friend from that day at the beach when she’d cut her foot. Debbie, sitting next to one of her daughters, waved.
Diego had sent his regrets.
Life wasn’t perfect, she mused as she walked toward her guys, but it sure was interesting once you were brave enough to live it. She had committed to Armand that day of the South Beach regional, and he had committed to her—this ceremony was a formality for their families and friends. She’d moved in with Armand that next day, going with him to meet Alex at Chantal’s condo. The toddler with Armand’s brown hair had captured her heart and Zamira grew to love sloppy kisses and smeared carrot stains.
The minister, a short-haired woman with silver curls and black glasses, stood on the dais with her notes. Zamira and Armand had decided to keep things quick and to the point, so that they could get to the beach and celebrate with champagne under shaded canopies set up on the sand. Late September was hot, and the small chapel’s air conditioning unit couldn’t keep up with the fifty people packed inside.
“And who gives the bride away?” The minister’s voice resounded around the room as soon as the pianist completed the march.
“Her mother and I do,” her father said in clear tones. He kissed her hand and then moved to sit next to her mama in the front row of chairs. She and Armand had put framed photos of his parents and grandparents on the dais, between the vases of roses.
Zamira knew she was the luckiest woman alive as Alex slipped his small, trusting hand into hers on the right side, and Armand took her other hand on the left. Family.
“Do you take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife?”
Armand’s jaw clenched as he gathered his emotions, then he cleared his throat. “I do.” He searched her eyes and she let them blaze with the love she had for him.
“And do you take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband?”
“I do.” Forever.
“And do you promise to love and cherish one another as a family? Through hard times as well as the good?”
Alex’s little voice joined in with hers and Armand’s. “I do, too.”
Tears welled, but Zamira didn’t notice as she knelt down to kiss Alex on the nose, then she straightened and took the handkerchief Armand pulled from his pocket to dab at her eyes. I do, I do, I do.
“And now may I present Mr. and Mrs. Vargas—because love deserves a second chance.”
The End
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With an impressive bibliography in an array of genres, USA Today bestselling author Traci Hall has garnered a notable fan base. She pens stories guaranteed to touch the heart while transporting the reader to another time and place. Her belief in happily ever after shines through, whether it's a romantic glimpse into history or a love affair for today.
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