UNPROTECTED: A Dark Bad Boy Baby Romance (Hanley Family Mafia)
Page 43
It’s perfect, in a word. Hell, this day is already perfect and it’s hardly begun.
I lift my skirt once more to see the golden garter. We’re going to have fun with that tonight. My little $45 surprise for Gabriel. Money well spent. It even has his name on it.
A knock on the door signals the end to my musing.
As I go to open it, I smile at my reflection one last time.
Hello, Mrs. Toni Pierson.
At the door is Maria Fernanda. “It’s time,” she says.
She pauses, lets her gaze wander over the expanse of my dress, my torrents of curls.
“Well?” I ask, and she smiles, tears in her eyes.
“Oh Toni, when you first told me I thought you were crazy but now, these past few months…. I am so very proud of you.”
She embraces me, and as I hold her, she whispers, “Your father would have been proud of you too.”
At these words, I separate, walk briskly out of the room.
“We better get going. Don’t want to be late for my own wedding.”
I can’t get to thinking about Papa, about how he should’ve been here, or I’ll be crying as I walk down the aisle.
In the church entrance, all the wedding party is lined up. Just like last night, with one exception: Carlos is thankfully locked somewhere in Gabriel’s office, where he’ll stay until Gabe and I decide what to do with him. That’s one “kink” I’m glad we stumbled on during the rehearsal.
I exchange a shy smile with Hannah, then inhale and exhale.
Everything is alright. With Gabe, it always is. If anything goes wrong, he can fix it.
The next thing I know music is starting and Pip and Maria Fernanda are walking down the church aisle.
It’s time. It’s started.
A few seconds later, Pulse and Hannah walk out. And then, a few more seconds later, it’s Jane trotting up toward the trainer waiting in the pew, and then they’re sitting down, which Father O’Mally said is my cue to go.
I don’t go.
I pause, gaze out at the crowd, the mass of Italians and bikers.
Can I do this – marry a man I’ve known for less than a year? What am I thinking?
I turn around, then pause again.
The fear is wrong. I know. Gabriel Pierson is the right man for me, and always will be.
I turn around and sail down the aisle.
Once I start walking, it feels like I’m on a conveyer belt, not moving my legs at all, or even a magnet, being drawn to my other half. My other half who’s waiting for me at the altar.
When I get there, the stupefied expression on his face indicates that my dress looks just as good as I thought.
The rest of the service is Gabriel and I sitting and rising, listening to people give readings, Father O’Mally say things, waiting. For the vows, for the moment when we’ll be joined together forever.
When it’s finally time for our vows, I can hardly believe it.
I get through mine fine enough; I’ve practiced in front of my mirror thousands of times after all.
I don’t even cry.
And then it’s time for Gabe’s vows.
He takes out the folded-up piece of paper Father O’Mally said he wasn’t supposed to bring, clasps my hand the way Father O’Mally said he wasn’t supposed to.
And then, his voice wavering, he speaks:
“Toni. You have been nothing short of a miracle. Before I met you, I didn’t know a woman like you existed, could exist. I never really connected with most people, never thought I could. And never anything like this. You’re honest yet compassionate, you know how to talk me up and keep me grounded. You bring out the best in me, so much so that lately I hardly recognize myself in the best way. I love you. I love you and everything that you are, and everything that we are, and I can never thank you enough for making the happiest man in the world by saying yes.”
Now, as tears stream down, as our fingers clasp together, as we stare into each other’s’ loving eyes, Father O’Mally says the words, “You may now kiss the bride” and Gabriel does.
Our lips meet, and everything disappears. There is only Gabriel and me, our love, our ecstatic marvel of a love, so bright it explodes, roars out so, as we separate, all I can hear is his whisper, “I love you Toni. I love you.”
The rest of the service is a happy blur, of words, going through the motions, everyone smiling and my heart laughing, laughing at all this ceremony for me and my husband, whose love knows no bounds, recognizes no need for ceremony. This is the happiest day of my life.
When we finally escape the church, we throw ourselves in the limo, lay back and enjoy the ride.
“Cookies anyone?” Jaws offers.
He’s holding an already-opened box of Oreos, that Maria Fernanda inspects with interest.
“Is that… ah,” she says.
Evidently, she saw that it is indeed birthday cake Oreos.
This revelation made, when Jaws passes her the box, she takes six and passes three to me.
We toast birthday cake Oreos with a smile and dig in.
I munch on my Oreos gladly, sinking into Gabe.
Today has only just begun, and I’m exhausted already. And this isn’t just a bodily exhaustion either. My mind is exhausted, worried.
As we were leaving the church, I caught a glimpse of the last two faces I wanted to see.
How did Roger and Anthony even get in?
I frown, glancing up at Gabe’s exultant face. His smile is so big that it leaves two indents on his face even when it falls.
No, I can’t tell him, can’t worry him. Not today. I want today to be perfect for him, for us. No use worrying needlessly.
“Penny for your thoughts?” Gabriel is saying, stroking my face.
“I love you,” I say simply, which is partly a lie and partly not.
Because, as he kisses me, it’s all I can think of. How very much I love him, how lucky I am to have met him, how very wonderful this all is.
Two Oreos later, we finally reach Casa Loma, our photography destination.
Once there, we meet Jane and the dog trainer who transported her, Lila, as well as Rhonda, our photographer. While Lila is dressed in a regular blue t-shirt and jeans, Rhonda is a veritable explosion of prints: an orange and green paisley blazer with a pair of yellow, pink and purple striped pants.
I’m surprised I didn’t notice her at the church service, but her orders were to “Be discreet” during it, after all.
“Are you ready!” she exclaims.
Without waiting for an answer, she torpedoes off, in one door of the castle and, as we follow her, out the other.
Now in the garden, she beelines to the flowers, and immediately starts gesturing.
“Big bald man you can go in the back, spike-haired man in the back too, your spikes are tall.”
Pip and Jaws shuffle over obediently with annoyed faces, while the rest of us follow.
And so, Rhonda orders us into our respective places, and the shoot begins.
It starts out fun, the “nice” picture, the “funny” picture. Even Jane seems to be enjoying the plethora of treats she’s getting for sitting still, while Maria Fernanda hands out Oreos during lulls.
Soon, however, it becomes clear that Rhonda is overly ambitious to the point of having us race all over the castle grounds, posing with trees, shrubs, and cute squirrels alike.
When, after I nearly trip on a tree root, I let out a sigh, Gabriel shoots me a knowing look.
“You’re tired, eh?”
I nod.
To which he sweeps me up.
“Gabe!” I pretend to protest, though I’m secretly pleased.
“Trust me,” he says, carrying me toward the fountain.
As we near it, however, I can see it’s not the same as when we passed it last time.
Namely, it’s overflowing with bubbles.
“Ah, so it worked, did it?” Jaws asked.
“Looks like it,” Gabe says, with a smirk.
Gabriel is taking off his shoes.
When he grabs mine, I squirm.
“Gabe, what are you doing?”
To which he kisses my cheek, says, “Trust me.”
So I do. I let him take off my shoes, carry me toward the fountain, step over the shrub border onto its edge, then into the bubbly fountain.
He lifts me so we’re eye to eye, then puts me down onto my feet in the water.
I squeal; the bubbles are cool and squishy.
Now music is playing: Uptown Funk – Bruno Mars.
I turn to Gabriel with a delighted smile.
“You remembered.”
“I’m the one whose phone is playing it,” Jaws points out, stepping into the water with us, his arms already engaged in some crazy moves.
At the sight of our motionless forms, he stops.
“C’mon, you’re in a fountain of bubbles, listening to the grooving tune you met during,” he says, “Don’t tell me you’re not going to dance?”
Gabriel’s response is to throw his arm out and up in a disco gesture; I do the same, and soon we’re grooving around, shaking hips, throwing out arms, splashing bubbles, grinning at each other, gesturing for the others to join us, which they do.
And so, we groove: Pip, Maria Fernanda, Jaws, Pulse, Gabriel and me.
At first, Rhonda bleats protest, then soon gives in to the beat, snaps a few pictures before she hops in herself, all of us rocking out in this fountain of bubbles, this contained puddle of beats, even the bubbles spilling out of the fountain in time.
By the time the song’s on its third repeat, we’re drenched and laughing.
I’m the first to stumble out of the fountain and collapse on a bench, though the others are soon to follow.
“Um, when was the reception again?” Hannah asks, flopping on the bench beside me.
“In 30 minutes!” Maria Fernanda declares, looking at her watch with a gasp.
We throw our shoes back on and race back to the limo, while Rhonda clatters behind in her wedges, straining to take pictures at the same time as running without tripping.
Then we pile into the limo, Rhonda and Lila head for their own cars, and we’re off.
A few minutes out of Casa Loma, my belly starts growling, and I get an idea.
“How many minutes 'til the reception now?” I ask.
“25,” says Maria Fernanda, “And I think we’ll be there in another 5.”
“So… we’d have time for a quick stop then,” I say, smiling at Gabe.
“What are you thinking?” he asks, patting my head.
“McDonald’s,” I say.
He smiles.
Leaning over and sliding open the partition, he asks the driver, “Could we make a quick stop at McDonald’s?”
The driver’s grey head turns, grins.
“Sure. Drive-through?”
Gabe looks to me, and I shake my head.
“I’ve always wanted to go inside in a wedding dress. Just once.”
Jaws and Pulse laugh, the driver says, “Ok,” and Gabe slides the partition closed again.
“You crazy kids really are meant to be together,” Jaws says with a chuckle.
“But we’re all coming,” Hannah says.
“I want the yogurt parfait, yeah,” Pulse says, licking his lips.
The car goes silent, then we burst into excited laughter. This is going to be one crazy McDonald’s trip.
When the limo pulls up to the familiar golden arches, Gabe grabs my hand, and we’re off. The others let us walk first, so we get to see the restaurant-goers gaping first-hand.
There’s strangely no line-up, so Gabe and I stride right up to the counter. There, I gape at the menu dully. This whole idea had been a whim, done for the hell of it; I hadn’t thought about the actual practical what to order part.
“Would you be able to do us a favor?” Gabe asks the passive-faced boy behind the counter.
He responds with a noncommittal shrug.
“Could you throw three large fries onto a plate and write just married on it?” Gabe asks.
The boy responds with another noncommittal shrug, then jams some keys on his machine.
“That’ll be $6.17,” his monotone voice drawls.
Gabe hands over the money and the boy shoves back Receipt 267. Gabe and I head over to the side to wait for our order and let the others give theirs.
Hannah and Maria Fernanda are soon to join us, with matching Oreo McFlurries in hand. Pip is next with a hilariously tiny packet of apples, then Jaws with a receipt of his own.
When “267” is called by a cheery-looking girl who looks to be all of twelve, we pick up our plate of large fries to find, in large lettering, it marked, “JUST MARRED”.
Such a horrible mistake we can only laugh at and toast fries over.
“To the love of my life,” he says.
“To the man I just married,” I say.
Then Pulse joins us, his strangely topping-less yogurt in hand, and we return to the limo.
Once there, we have five minutes to inhale our food, which is a lot easier than it sounds, considering everyone helps out with the fries, notably Pulse, who basically drank his yogurt in three gross gulps.
By the time the limo pulls up to the National Event Venue for the reception, we’re ready.
Gabe and I clamber out with two minutes to spare, have just thrown off our coats and bags in the Bridal Party room, when Oma and Opa come bursting through the doors, right at 6 pm.
“Toni, you’re beautiful,” Oma declares, “The service was beautiful, Gabe is beautiful, this venue is beautiful.”
She pauses to take a look around the room to confirm that it is indeed beautiful. Her gaze settling on a beautiful vase of flowers in the corner, she declares again, this time more forcefully, “This venue is beautiful!”
“Thank you, Oma,” I say, trapped in her bony hug, while Opa pats me supportively.
“You picked a good one in that Gabe boy,” he says.
The other guests are thankfully not as quick to arrive as Oma and Opa, so Gabe and I have time to enjoy some of the mini lobster tacos, bite-sized empanadas, and the avocado mousse barquettes on the hors d’oeuvre platters of circling servers.
It’s only half an hour, however, until the room is packed, so full of people who want to talk Gabe’s and my ears off, hug us until we’re sore and congratulate us about everything under the sun that finally, I’m forced to escape to the bathroom.
After I’ve stared at my reflection for a minute and taken several deep breaths, I sneak back to the bathroom and peer out.
It’s quite a sight to see.
There they are, Gabe’s boys, the tough motorcycle crew, all dressed up in tuxes and slicked back locks, toting equally sleek women, laughing uproariously and toasting drinks already. And then, there’s my people, the Piccolos, all dark flowing hair, chic outfits, well-timed comments and polite sips of wine. You couldn’t find two groups of people more different if you tried. And yet, there they are: laughing together, chatting amiably.
If you told me this was possible a few months ago, I would’ve laughed in your face. And yet, here we are, there they are: the Piccolos and nearly every member of the Rebel Saints, getting along. All because of Gabe and me.
I take one last fond look at the happy crowd before I return to the mirror, to my reflection.
It even looks different, happier somehow. Maybe that’s because these last few months so much has happened. Gabe has gotten involved in the stock market, has been making a killing. We bought a huge palace of a house, outfitted every room to Gabe’s and my hearts’ desires. We’ve taken weekend getaways to New York City, Cancun, Los Angeles. We’re really lucky.
I stare into the mirror, at the happy woman who is me, and I whisper, “Thank you.”
She whispers it back, and I smile, not sure who it’s directed to - me or Gabe or both of us or t
he universe itself. Either way, it’s my cue to go. It is my wedding, after all.
As I stride out, I notice Antonio and Roger coming in.
I stop in front of them.