21. Emmett
Emmett
I’ve had moments when the thing in my chest has stopped working for longer than is acceptable, so much so that technically , I was dead.
And each time it happened, Angel was not far from the cause.
When I was fifteen, after a brutally extreme football game we played in frigid snow, the blotched thing seized up in my chest for an entire minute and forty-eight seconds.
In that moment, I tasted death acutely.
I could make her elusive, flimsy silhouette out more accurately than the other hundred times before.
I could see her swinging her scythe to harvest my life as I lay on a snowy field, my vision tunneling, my body going numb, my lungs torturously squeezing to try and keep me breathing.
It’s just that when one’s heart is fucked up, does anything else have a hope of functioning? Yes.
I discovered this when I laid eyes on her…
Even though my heart had checked out, the rest of me kept going, working overtime just to see her walk toward me like she’s doing now.
Now, it wasn’t the weather that caused the death. It was what happened as soon as the game ended.
Angel had marched over to me wearing her pink oversized sweater, a windbreaker that might’ve been her brother’s, an entirely too long scarf, and Mickey Mouse earmuffs—and she was pissed.
Her eyes were narrowed, her tiny fists clenched at her sides, rage blazing behind her glasses… I knew I was in trouble.
All throughout the game, I could feel her eyes on me, but I couldn’t tell exactly where she was up until the moment she stormed the field at the end of the game.
Before I could conjure up a flimsy excuse for why I was playing football in such horrible weather, she barreled right into my arms and pressed her ear up against the left side of my chest.
I remember how time stopped in that moment.
All eyes were on us.
She didn’t care, and I stopped breathing.
Angel had been the only one who knew about my heart condition at the time. Not only that, but she also didn’t even go to our school. The ripple of shock her sudden act caused was huge, but in that moment, I didn’t give a damn what the rest of the Blue Boys thought, let alone the world.
She was in my arms.
She had this ability of stopping time whenever she was in my arms, and I greedily ate it up.
Then, in a move that has since been seared into my brain, she pulled back, slapped me hard across the face, then, with tears streaming down her face, she planted a kiss over my heart and then stomped off.
Eight and a half seconds later, I was dead.
And now, a million strenuous heartbeats later, a few close calls, and some major regrets, I’m about to die for real just by taking in the pure Heaven-like vision in front of me.
At my word, the entire greenhouse garden was reset for this.
Every unsightly thing, including that bastard Theodore Hughes, was taken down and hosed, all the blood cleaned up before tossing his unconscious body in the chair beside his fearful father. There’ll be time for them later.
Standing at the altar in a fresh white shirt and jacket for formalities’ sake, but I shift impatiently on the balls of my feet.
I can feel myself still bleeding from the wounds I sustained on my way back here, but that’s a small sacrifice to pay for this moment.
I’d do anything to get back to Angel. My poor physical state isn’t worth considering in the face of that.
And it’s all worth it as I watch her walk down the white carpet I had them roll out for my bride and the fresh rose and daphne flower petals there for each step she takes toward me.
She’s so stunning, I can’t handle it.
God only knows how many times I’ve had this illusive dream, only to wake up livid with the myself and the world because I knew it was impossible.
But now, that dream is about to come true! Angel is becoming mine.
When she reaches the altar, I hold out my hand for her, but she hesitates, staring at my hand.
I frown. “There’s no going back now, Angel,” I warn in a low voice.
She suddenly looks up at me. Through the veil, I can feel her blazing eyes piercing me, but I only smirk at her.
I grab her hand and walk her the rest of the way and then I gently lift up her veil, desperate to see the look on her face.
Holy God, thank you!
I take her in, in all her gorgeous, unparalleled beauty. I can hear the blood in my veins rushing hot, as an inexplicable feeling takes hold of my chest.
Ripley suddenly appears and offers Angel a bouquet of white daphnes—my mother’s favorite flowers.
I stare at them, then I glance at the old cripple who looks thoroughly amused.
Now’s not the time…
But of course, some dying flames will do their best to act out in their final moments.
“Grandfather, this isn’t right.” Vaughn struggles to get up from his seat. “Since the girl is not Senator Hughes’s daughter, then there’s no logical way that?—”
“What I said is what will happen,” Grandfather answers in a heavy tone, cutting him off.
“But—”
“I know understanding is not your forte, Vaughn, but just in case any of you here think you can outdo me with cheap tricks and pathetic schemes, I’ll repeat myself,” Grandfather states, his words laced with a steely resolve I haven’t heard in years.
He raises his hand, then points at Angel.
“I chose that girl and that girl alone.”
“But she’s not a Hug?—”
“And thank God Almighty for that! Now, she chose Alessio, so they will marry. Vaughn, if you are so set on the Hughes daughter, then there she is. Marry her on your own time,” Grandfather says sardonically, glancing at Melissa.
Vaughn doesn’t even look at Melissa before he flat-out denies, “I’m not marrying her!”
“Then sit your fucking ass down. My grandson is getting married!”
I can’t help but look at Grandfather, noting the things I once ignored, or outrightly dismissed.
Grandfather turns back around, his steely gaze catching mine, then he turns to look at that bastard senator’s father who is still shell shocked.
“Henry, I believe you’re aware of the consequences of playing me for a fool, right?”
“But my son! Look at him!” Henry Hughes cries. “He’s a cripple now!”
“Anyway, you should tune into your American news channels. I believe the breaking news is already airing on every media outlet as we speak.”
“What?”
“Hmm, it’s impossible for your son to still run for president of the United States now that the world knows just how pathetic, corrupt, and disdainful he is. Oh, and whatever deal we had is null and void. You may leave.”
Before Henry can respond, he’s gagged and quickly escorted out by Grandfather’s men.
“Oh, I’d wouldn’t do anything rash if I were you. That is, if you want your son’s remains after we’re done with them,” the old man calls out just before Henry is dragged out. “Now, as you were.”
Seeing the old man in a different light now, I turn to face Angel as the ceremony starts.
The whole thing is succinct and sweet.
In front of Grandfather, Scar, an angry and still bleeding Vaughn, and my uncles who are all seated at the edge of their seats with extreme anxiety and panic, Beverly and Melissa, I marry the only woman who I’ve always craved.
The priest gives a Biblical account of marriage, explains the seriousness of this holy matrimony. When he’s done, he then asks the most crucial question. In Italian first, then in English.
“Do you, Emmett Alessio Damian Easton, take Ivy Marie Irving, to be your loving wedded wife, to have and to hold, to love, cherish, and protect, in sickness and in health, through all the trials and tribulations of life, forsaking all others, till death do you part in the presence of God and all who are witnesses here and now?”
Two weeks ago, this never would’ve happened.
No matter how much I’d dream, fight, or pretend, this was not in the cards simply because I wasn’t physically able to give her this…
To have me in sickness? You don’t dump your perishing body in the hands of the one you love, especially when they have an entire life to look forward to. A future so bright, in no time they’d realize they dodged a bullet.
But this is now… and this time, I want it all.
I want the future I’ve tried and failed to forget… the future where Angel is mine, happy, in love with me, spoiled, protected and at peace.
This time, I’m throwing caution to the wind, and with this new heart only a few days old beating slowly in my chest, I say the words I never thought I’d say.
“I do.”
In front of me, I feel more than hear Angel suck in a deep breath.
Yes, baby, this is real and it’s happening.
“And do you, Ivy Marie Irving, take Emmett Alessio Damian Easton, to be your loving wedded husband, to have and to hold, to love and honor, in sickness and in health, through all the trials and tribulations of life, forsaking all others, till death do you part in the presence of God and all who are witnesses here and now?”
I expect her to answer quickly but she remains silent for forty-eight entire seconds.
Anxiety like a tight glove clutches my chest.
From the corner of my eye, I see Vaughn’s lips press together, like he’s gearing up to say something. When he sees me looking his way, his eyes narrow with mirth.
But this isn’t about Vaughn. He’s not my competition here.
My bride is.
I stare at Angel, not knowing what to say. I loathe pressuring her or bullying her into anything, but she has me by the skin of my teeth with trepidation.
“Miss?” the priest starts.
“W-what?” Angel gasps, as if being dragged out of the depths of cold water. “What did you say?”
The priest eyes me nervously and then he clears his throat and repeats the question.
I’m about to demand she quit playing me like this, when she says the words, “I do.”
I breathe a deep sigh of relief and dismiss the reluctance I heard in her voice.
“Excellent! You many now exchange the rings.”
Kai materializes from the shadows, holding a silver platter with two familiar-looking old-fashioned boxes that I’m sure Angel recognizes because her gaze shoots straight to mine.