Chapter 38 Luc
Cody and I are standing in a beautiful green field with blossoming sunflowers behind us, the sun shining brightly, and the photographer standing in front of us. After our talk, we went into separate rooms to change into our suits and prepare for the photoshoot.
We managed to stay on schedule. Not having to spend a lot of time on hair and makeup helped us, although I must admit, I’m wearing some of my mother’s concealer.
It’s unusual for me, but it’s for a good cause.
Cody and I look our best. He’s wearing a black wedding jacket as part of his wedding suit; I’m wearing a white one.
There’s no particular reason for it other than that we wanted to wear different things and feel that these colors look best on us.
I feel a lot better than I did this morning.
Cody helped calm most of my nerves. It also helps that we both look great, and I’m happy with the photographer we chose.
Before today, I did extensive research and took my time before deciding on one, and it’s paying off.
Based on her instructions and ideas, she clearly knows what she’s doing.
She’s punctual but clear in her communications and expectations, and what I like most is, she takes no bullshit.
When Cody couldn’t answer her questions about when she could take pictures of the wedding cake, she became annoyed, which made him nervous.
I don’t like not knowing what’s going on with the cake, but it’s a consolation that Cody seems to be stressing about it just as much as I am.
The next pictures taken will be of him and me in the sunflower fields.
Family pictures will follow later, which is convenient because it’s one o’clock and I haven’t seen my father yet.
I don’t like that I haven’t heard anything from him.
I don’t know if he’ll show, but I try not to worry by reminding myself there’s still time; the guests aren’t supposed to arrive until two thirty p.m.
We’re making good progress in taking pictures and pretending that everything is entirely under control for the camera.
But then, as the photographer clicks away on her device, I hear a faint buzz beside me, indicating that either Cody or I have an incoming message on our phone.
I don’t care about it initially and plan to ignore it as I hold my pose, but then Cody breaks position and reaches into his pocket.
He avoids my gaze as he unlocks his phone and looks at the screen for what feels like too long.
He even starts typing something, and I can’t help that it annoys me.
Very little is required to put us behind schedule.
Okay, so that’s partially my fault because I had to talk to Cody, but still. There’s no reason for us to run behind.
“Oh,” Cody says beside me. He runs his hand over his head, and a strange twinkle forms in his eyes that I can’t place. “We should uh . . . take a break.”
“Une pause? Sérieux? But we’ll run behind schedule!”
Despite my grumpy response, the corner of his lips turns up. I have no idea what’s going on. “You’ll want to see this, Luc, trust me. It’s my surprise for you.”
Honestly, I’m not sure I like surprises today. “Quelle surprise?”
Cody’s smile widens. He looks beyond excited. “You’ll see, but only if we go to the parking lot right now.”
I glance at the photographer. On the one hand, I don’t want to lose even more time, but then .
. . this surprise from Cody is something I can’t ignore.
Because either it’s something great that I’ll want to see or something bad that I’ll have to stop.
Frankly, I’m not sure how I feel about it, other than that my stress levels are rising again.
“D’accord,” I say, sighing. Let’s take a break,” I tell the photographer in French. She silently accepts it, nodding but not looking happy about it. I can imagine; we’re not making this easy for her. Not that it should matter, though. She gets paid either way and has to adjust to our desires.
I look at Cody. “Show me the surprise,” I tell him in French.
Despite my obvious annoyance, Cody can’t seem to wipe the smile off his face. I wonder why that is.
“Suis-moi,” he says—follow me. He grabs my hand, and I can’t deny that the gesture and the fact that he’s speaking French have a calming effect on me.
What also helps is that he seems so excited, making it almost impossible to stay annoyed.
It’s my wedding day, I remind myself. So why not try to be happy?
Well, if it weren’t for knowing the photographer is waiting for us, and being uncertain about so many things, I think I could be.
We’d wandered off with the photographer to the flower fields, so the walk to the parking lot takes about five minutes.
“You’re going to love this. At least, I hope you are.”
I squeeze his hand. He seems so proud of this, which could mean the surprise is something big or difficult to arrange. “I hope so too.”
When we reach the parking lot, I don’t immediately see anything unusual, just a bunch of cars on gravel. But then, suddenly, a van that says Populie Gateau catches my eye—my dad’s van!
I grab Cody’s hand tighter, relief surging through me. “My dad’s here?”
“Oui, but not just that,” Cody replies, smiling from ear to ear. “Let’s take a closer look.”
He pulls me to the van, holding my hand and walking fast. Standing at the back of it, I see my dad and Claire unpacking a box, revealing a giant cake. It’s white and smooth, four layers high, and has detailed little sunflowers on the edges. It’s beautiful and literally takes my breath away.
I gasp and let go of Cody’s hand to place mine in front of my face. “Mon Dieu, c’est magnifique! C’est pour nous?”
Cody puts his hand on my back, looking both proud and relieved.
“Of course it’s for you,” my dad replies, smiling. “Who else would I be delivering a sunflower-themed wedding cake for at this place?”
I can feel myself tearing up. For months, I’ve been wondering why Cody wouldn’t let me have anything to do with our wedding cake, and as the day approached, I grew more stressed and frustrated, not knowing.
I struggled to leave it to him, but I forced myself to do it and instead tunneled my restlessness into other things.
But I think I see now what Cody has been up to.
“You did this?” I ask him softly, my voice trembling, my eyes blurry with tears. “You asked my dad to come to our wedding and make our cake?”
With my obstructed vision, I can see him nod before my dad says, “I don’t know if I’d call it ‘ask.’ The man’s been harassing me for months about this. I think he would have dragged me here if it came down to that,” my father says, laughing.
I wipe my eyes just in time to see my father take a few steps away from the unwrapped cake and look at it. “But I think I’ve delivered.”
“You definitely have,” Cody says. Then his gaze shifts to me, becoming less confident. “I mean, I think you have. What do you think, Luc?”
I can only nod, lost for words. I stand still and stare at the cake, dumbfounded, tears streaming down my face. After a while, I only manage to reply, “C’est magnifique.” Then I turn and let myself fall into Cody’s embrace, softly crying. Oh, there goes my concealer . . .
Cody caresses my hair and holds me tightly.
Some part of me registers that there’s less tension in his muscles than before, when we were taking pictures.
It tells me he was more anxious about this than he let on.
I should probably thank him and my dad, but I can’t yet.
For the time being, I’m just going to let Cody hold me and let my emotions take over.
He did the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me. And probably ever will do . . .
“Merci,” I mutter into his chest, but it doesn’t feel like enough, so I also thank him in English. “Thank you.”
“Of course,” he replies, kissing my head.
After several minutes, I pull away from him and turn my attention to my father. I walk towards him and hug him tightly as well.
“Merci à toi aussi, Papa.”
He hugs me back and says, in French, “It was my pleasure, Luc. I’m just happy to be here and to do this for you. I’m . . . proud of you, son.”
His words bring new tears to my eyes, reminding me how much this has taken its toll on me over the past few months.
It was difficult not knowing if my father would approve of my relationship, to live with the uncertainty of whether he would come to my wedding.
And now to not only have him here but also have him say he’s proud of me means everything.
I’m also relieved to finally know we have a wedding cake.
If there’s one person—besides me—I would leave it to, it’s my dad, and I’m glad Cody recognized that.
After a long hug, my dad and I break apart, and I suddenly remember there’s something I should warn him about.
“By the way, Mom’s here too, Dad.”
As I expected, he looks unhappy. “What?! Odette is here?! You invited both of us?”
“I did; it’s my wedding, and I want you both here. I told her I had faith you would be here because you’ve always been there before when it mattered, and I was right. Because you’re here now.”
At those words, he relaxes somewhat. “Oh.”
“She didn’t like that I invited you both—same as you—but I told her to behave around you, and I expect you to do the same. Just be civil.”
My father’s jaw clenches and unclenches, and I can understand why; my mother and father haven’t seen each other in a long time, and there’s still a lot of anger and pain. I can only hope they can move beyond it just for one day. For me.
Which is why it’s a relief when my dad nods, sighs, and says, “Fine. I’ll be as nice as possible, as long as she is.”
That’s good enough, I decide, so I thank him again and bring my attention back to the wedding cake and the other person here. As I step toward Claire, Cody takes my place in front of my dad and shakes his hand as they start a conversation in English.