Chapter 18
Chapter eighteen
A Couple Hours Later
I should be focused on my duties as best man.
Instead I’m thinking about Sky because I’m a lovesick fool.
The groom’s quarters are in the chapel building on the castle grounds, tall windows frame Prague’s red tile roofs and pale church towers rising from a distance beyond the gardens.
Inside, the space gives half royal dressing chamber, half old-world study.
Dark walnut wardrobes, brocade chairs gathered near the windows, and a long oak table cluttered with cufflinks, watches, and half-empty whiskey glasses.
Polished shoes line the wall beneath the wardrobe while the midnight-blue tux jackets hang in a careful row.
Disney princes.
Marisol committed to the bit down to the very last detail.
Truthfully, our tuxes are classic. Satin lapels in deep ink blue instead of black.
Crisp white shirts with covered buttons.
Silk bow ties. Gold cufflinks shaped like little crowns.
Even the pocket squares are embroidered with a custom crest, which somehow makes the whole thing more ridiculous and perfect.
Julian stands in front of the mirror fastening his tie with fixed concentration.
Fred sits near the window in one armchair, Jose in the other, each holding a low glass of whiskey and looking entirely too relaxed for fathers on wedding day duty.
Irving drapes himself across the back of a velvet settee with all the grace of a man born to be inappropriate in historic buildings.
The last seventy-two hours have wrecked me in the best possible way. The plane. Sky’s room. The look on her face last night when she finally believed I’m all in. The way she said she loved me like the words scared her and steadied her all at once.
Best of all, how she felt in my arms after. Soft, pliant ,and present. Our future has suddenly developed a pulse.
I haven’t had nearly enough sleep. Also: I do not care.
Julian gives up on the bow tie and looks at me in the mirror. “You’re somewhere else.”
“Nah, man. I’m right here.,” I adjust one cuff.
Irving twirls a finger around his head. “Physically yes. Mentally…not so much.”
Julian turns from the mirror, studying me now with the same skeptic sneer he used in law school when he knew I was lying but wanted to watch me do it anyway. “Didn’t sleep well?”
“I slept fine.” I feign nonchalance.
“Well, I didn’t sleep last night.” Irving points his glass at me like he’s about to submit evidence. “My suite shares a wall with Sky’s.”
Fred’s brows go up. Julian stills.
I glare.
Irving takes his time, savoring his moment before he continues. “Care to give us an update, Romeo?”
I stare at him. He stares back.
Julian’s mouth parts. “Wait. More progression?”
“Mm-hmm.” Irving nods at me without looking away.
Julian points at me with one hand and at Irving with the other as if physically connecting the dots in the air. “You dirty dog.”
“Walls are old. Very little mystery survives in this castle.” Irving lifts one shoulder.
I rub a hand over the back of my neck and look to the ceiling for half a second, mostly because not smiling is impossible.
“Zach.” Julian walks closer, his expression somewhere between triumph and disbelief.
No point pretending. “We’re in love.”
All the men go still. As if a long-running theory has just become fact.
Irving tips his head. “So, counselor, you want to tell the class what your intentions are?”
“I’m gonna lock her down.” I look down while fastening my second cufflink, buying myself a second.
Julian gives a disbelieving laugh. “What the fuck?”
“And then.” Irving points at me again.
“And then,” I’m unable to stop my grin now, “we’ll all gather for our wedding someday soon.”
Julian folds his arms and studies me for a long moment. “Hold up, now. This is you. Please don’t fuck around with her feelings.”
The question lands cleanly. I lift my gaze.
Irving watches me closely now, all humor drained from his face.
“I alluded to this yesterday and it’s taken me nearly two decades to admit it, but Sky is and always has been the love of my life.” The truth of it settles so naturally it surprises me. “She feels the same way and we’ve both been stupid idiots who have wasted far too much time.”
Silence.
Julian shakes his head as if he’s been personally inconvenienced by my late arrival to common sense. “Thank Christ. Marisol and I have listened to both of you pine in different ways for years.”
“Took long enough.” Irving lifts his glass.
Julian points straight at my chest. “Put a ring on it.”
“Intend to.” I huff out a laugh.
“Sooner rather than later,” Julian instructs.
I glance down at the crown cufflink glinting at my wrist and think of Sky. From all the years we’ve deepened our friendship to how she looked in bed last night after crying over a fake girlfriend named after a dog.
Julian notices the shift in me. “What’s going on, Zach?”
I drag a breath through my chest and answer without planning to. “I can’t believe I’m selling my company.”
Four heads turn.
Irving straightens first. “What’s next?”
I look at my friends, at the fathers, at the ridiculous prince tux hanging off my shoulders, and think about how little I care about titles compared to the woman in the chapel waiting downstairs.
“Sky,” I answer. “Whatever happens, Sky is the focus.”
A knock sounds at the door before anyone can keep going. The wedding planner slips her head inside, headset on, clipboard in hand. “Gentlemen. Guests are seated.”
Julian’s face changes in an instant. The jokes vanish. The groom face reappears.
Fred rises first and claps him on the shoulder. Jose follows with a quiet, firm hug. Irving straightens his jacket and drains the last of his drink. I pick up my own glass from the mantel and set it aside untouched.
No more delays.
We leave the suite together and move through the corridor. Footsteps echo distinctly on the stone. Somewhere below, music drifts upward through the stairwell, strings only, sweet and bright and delicately unreal.
The chapel doors stand open. Candlelight washes the pale stone walls.
Flowers climb the ends of the pews in white, blush, and the faintest blue, tying the whole princess fantasy together without tipping into absurdity.
Sunlight still lingers through the stained glass high above, painting the aisle with scattered color.
I take my place beside Irving and look up once. The doors at the back of the chapel open and the ceremony begins.
Sixty people rise as one.
Immediately, I locate Sky, who stands near Marisol. Her blush dress falls in soft lines to her ankles and her hair is pinned back so her curls spill over one shoulder. She stepped out of the same fairytale as the rest of this castle.
Her eyes find mine for a second. Then the music changes.
Sera and Soleil go first, their pale-blue dresses float around them as they scatter flower petals. Miranda and Sky follow, radiant in silver-blue. Then Lupe and Véronique, elegant and proud and trying not to cry before the bride even appears.
When Marisol steps into the doorway the entire room draws breath. Her gown glows. There’s no other word for it. Ivory silk fitted close through the bodice, then opening into layers of tulle and hand-stitched flowers trailing behind her in a soft cloud of pale color.
Julian forgets how to stand for a moment. She walks toward him slowly, her face lit with happiness. Julian takes her hands the second she reaches him.
“Most couples stand here to promise a life together.” The officiant smiles as if she’s been waiting for this too, her voice carrying easily through the chapel. “Julian and Marisol are doing this on their own terms.”
Laughter ripples gently throughout the chapel.
The officiant continues. “They have lived through youth, career, parenthood, grief, joy, reinvention, and ordinary Tuesdays. They have chosen each other for seventeen years. Today they are not beginning love. They are honoring it.”
Julian goes first with his vows, gazing at Marisol like he’s still astonished she made it all the way here with him. “We grew up together. Not in a straight line. Not neatly. We did everything backward and somehow still ended up exactly where we belonged.”
Marisol’s eyes glisten.
He squeezes her hands. “I promise to keep choosing you. On good days. On terrible days. When life is easy and when it makes no sense at all. I promise to be your home even when the map changes.”
A few people in the pews openly cry at this point.
“Most princess stories end at the wedding.” Marisol smiles through tears when she begins her own vows.
“Ours started long before it. We built a family before we built a ceremony. We learned patience before we learned timing. We had children before we had matching rings.” She laughs, her eyes fixed on Julian.
“I promise the same thing I’ve promised you in a thousand ordinary ways for seventeen years.
My loyalty. My honesty. My joy. My hand in yours through every version of our life. ”
The vows strike a chord because Sky and I did it in reverse too. Friendship before confession. History before courage. Years before touch.
By the time the rings slide into place and the officiant pronounces them married, the chapel fills with the quiet force of everyone who helped carry them here. Years of friendship, family, and stubborn devotion infuse them with blessings.
Applause breaks out. Sera and Soleil practically vibrate with triumph. Julian kisses Marisol, dipping her low.
While everyone else rises and turns and reaches for tissues, I look across the front of the chapel.
Sky is already looking at me.
Everything around us blurs.
The flowers. The candles. The music.
None of it matters as much as the quiet certainty in her face.
Whatever comes next, we’re doing it together from now on.