31. Charlie #2
Across the tent, Stratton gestures emphatically, spilling champagne onto Ariel's sleeve in the process.
Her mock outrage is betrayed by the smile tugging at her lips as she dabs at the fabric with a cocktail napkin.
Stratton wraps an arm around her waist, whispers something in her ear that turns her cheeks pink.
They've been married for a while now, and still look at each other like newlyweds.
I catch Stratton's eye and lift my glass in a silent toast. He nods back, his expression softening to something like pride.
My gaze drifts to Stuart, leaning against one of the tent poles, his attention entirely captured by his date, Gabriella, a violinist from the Seattle Symphony, who he met through Tess. Stuart hangs on her every word, his usual swagger replaced by genuine interest.
My parents hold court near the bar, my father surprisingly relaxed in his formal best man tuxedo.
My mother's hand rests on his arm, her fingers tapping lightly to the music.
When she catches me watching, she raises her glass slightly, her eyes twinkling.
Whatever tensions once existed between me and my parents feel distant now, worn smooth by my relationship with Tess and the twins arrival.
Across from them, Tess's mother chats with some of Tess’s old friends.
Her silver-streaked hair gleams under the lights, her laugh carrying across the space.
The relationship between Tess and her mother has always been complicated—too many years of being caught between warring parents—but the twins have created a bridge that has brought them back together.
I spot Jane and Trey, her head resting briefly on his shoulder before she straightens to greet another guest. She’s four months pregnant now and her first trimester was rough. She’s feeling much better but the fatigue still hits her hard some days.
Jane catches my eye now and makes a goofy face, breaking my moment of reflection. She points emphatically toward the far corner of the tent, where Angela sits with the twins. I head in that direction.
I thread my way through the crowd, accepting congratulations and claps on the back as I pass.
Angela has positioned herself in a relatively quiet spot, a diaper bag at her feet. Cole and Leah are sitting on a blanket, quietly playing with a few of their favorite toys.
Angela is my ex-assistant. She came to me a few months ago and said she wanted to retire from Emerald City Coffee.
My stomach dropped with disappointment but then she explained she would like to apply for the open nanny position.
I couldn’t think of a better person to watch our babies and so far it’s been perfect.
"How are they doing?" I ask, crouching down to eye level with them. Leah’s gaze locks on mine, and she abandons her toy to reach for me with chubby fingers. My heart performs its usual acrobatics. Almost a year in and I'm still blindsided by how completely I love these tiny humans.
"Perfect angels," Angela assures me. “And, I have to say, you look very handsome in your tux, Charlie.”
I smile at her and then scoop up Leah, breathing in her baby-sweet scent. She immediately grabs for my boutonnière.
"Careful there, princess," I murmur, gently redirecting her hand. "Daddy needs to look presentable for a little while longer."
Cole stops playing with the truck he’s obsessed with and looks up at us. He raises his arms up and I manage to pull him up in my arms as well.
After putting them both down on the blanket again, I glance at Leah's ivory dress with its tiny pearl buttons, matching her brother's vest and miniature bowtie. Jane found the outfits online and had them shipped from a boutique in France.
The string quartet begins to play and that’s my cue. I move to the center of the aisle between rows of white chairs, aware of every eye turning toward me. Our officiant—Trey's brother Anson, who became ordained recently—gives me an encouraging nod.
My dad appears beside me, adjusting my boutonnière with surprising care. "Ready for this?" he asks, his voice low enough that only I can hear.
I nod, not trusting my voice. My pulse thuds in my ears as I wait for the moment I see Tess.
A nod from the wedding planner, and the quartet begins to play Bach's "Air on the G String,” rather than the traditional wedding march. Tess wanted something a little different.
The music flows across the yard, silencing conversations, drawing all eyes toward the white gate we've decorated with more flowers and ribbons.
Jane appears first in a very tasteful light pink formal gown. She smiles at everyone before slowly beginning to walk up the aisle toward me and Dad.
Tess is next. She stands with her father, her hand resting lightly on his arm.
Her dress isn't the poufy princess gown my mother probably imagined, but a sleek column of ivory silk that skims her curves, showing off the figure she's worked hard to reclaim after the twins.
Her hair falls in loose waves around her shoulders, adorned with a simple headpiece of baby's breath and tiny pearls.
She's so beautiful it almost hurts to look at her. I feel the sting of tears and reach for my handkerchief, not caring who sees.
Tess's eyes find mine across the distance, and the smile that spreads across her face is everything—every late night with colicky babies, every argument about whose turn it is to change a diaper, every perfect morning waking up beside her.
Everything that brought us here, everything that waits ahead.
She begins walking toward me, the silk of her dress catching the breeze, floating around her legs like she's moving through water.
Her father guides her down the aisle with pride. He's flown in from Arizona for this, putting aside old tensions with Tess's mother for the sake of their daughter. Another small miracle in a long chain of them.
As they near, I can see the slight tremble in Tess's hand, the only sign that she's as overwhelmed as I am. She's never been one for public displays, for being the center of attention.
They reach the end of the aisle. Her father kisses her cheek, then places her hand in mine. His eyes, so like Tess's, meet mine with a clear message: Take care of her. I nod slightly, accepting both his blessing and the responsibility it carries.
I take her hands in mine as we stand before our assembled guests.
"You look stunning," I whisper, winking at her.
Tess's eyes widen slightly, her fingers tightening around mine. "And you look incredibly handsome."
The officiant clears his throat gently, reminding us that there's a ceremony to perform, vows to exchange.
Cole chooses this moment to let out a happy squeal from Angela's lap, breaking the tension, making everyone laugh. Tess squeezes my hands, her smile widening as she glances at our son, then back to me.
"Shall we begin?" Anson asks.
I think of all the ways we came to this moment—the fake relationship that became real, the unexpected pregnancy, the house we're making into a home, the twins who've turned our world upside down in the best possible way. None of it planned, all of it perfect.
"We’re ready," I answer looking at Tess for confirmation, and I've never meant anything more in my life.
Anson begins to speak, his voice carrying across the yard. "Friends and family, we are gathered here today to celebrate the union of Charles William Astor and Tess Marie Whitlock..."
But I'm barely listening. I'm looking at Tess—at the way the evening light catches in her hair, at the tiny scar above her right eyebrow from a riding fall, at the subtle strength in her shoulders that's carried her through childbirth and sleepless nights and building a career while being a mother.
This woman who I’ve known for so many years. This woman who has seen me at my worst and somehow loves me anyway. This woman who is about to become my wife.
The crowd around us fades away, leaving just this—her hands in mine, her eyes on my face, the promise of all our tomorrows stretching before us.