50. Carter
FIFTY
CARTER
NINE MONTHS LATER
It’s my fucking wedding day.
I’ve been down this road before, partaking in planning the wedding from hell, but this time, everything is different, and I cannot wait to walk down that aisle today.
Tyson, Jasper and I have planned every single detail together, all the way down to the officiant we chose – who was not kidnapped – to perform the ceremony even though it’s a bit unorthodox, considering there’s an additional groom.
The one thing they don’t know about is my dress, and as hard as it was to keep something from them, I’m thrilled to debut the outfit of a lifetime for them, and see their reactions in real time.
Of course, my dress is black, allowing me the fairytale that I never dreamed about, until I met them, come to fruition, and as I shimmy into the silky fabric, smoothing it down and taking a spin for the mirror, I can’t believe how fucking hot I look.
Sticking true to my roots, I chose a dress with no straps, the bust line dipping to enhance my breasts, while the train is filled with tiny, intricate lace flowers, and flows down to a deep slit in the thigh.
I’m never one for theatrics, so when the tailor offered to transform the dress by removing the extra long train, instead opting for a sweep as they call it, I knew that I’d found my dream gown, and admittedly, I’ve been in awe of it since my final fitting last week.
As I stare at my reflection in the mirror, the two engagement rings on my hands shimmer under the light, the black diamonds only accentuating the look, and I allow my thoughts to wander, wondering how I got so damn lucky to be getting married my way – let alone at all.
“Carter? Sweetie, can I come in?” Jasper’s mom knocks at the door of my bridal suite, it being empty, as I opted not to have bridesmaids, or a maid of honor.
Friendship, family, and the ideas of a village are all still new to me, but I do have one true friend, and Ellie is one of our select few guests.
It took a lot for us to come back from what happened at Emory, but I’m honored that she gave me another chance, and we’ve been out to dinner a few times since we all returned to the States.
“It’s open!” I call out, the Mother of the Groom immediately slinking through the doors, her jaw dropping when she sees how I’ve styled my hair into a timeless bridal bun, added light makeup to enhance my tan skin and baby blue eyes, and altered the dress since she last saw it.
“You look absolutely beautiful, sweetheart. Oh, those boys are going to cry all over themselves, I just know it!” She slips behind me in the mirror, dabbing at her eyes with a cloth, but I don’t dare move, knowing that this is a big day for her, too, considering her only son is getting married.
We’ve grown closer to Jasper’s family since returning to New Jersey a few short months ago, the beach bum life getting really old, really quick, and when Jasper’s mother told us how badly the Masseria Family was struggling to secure a leader, we knew that we were being called back home.
After spending the day lunching in Manhattan, Jasper’s mother and sisters accompanied me to the dress shop, and for the first time in my life, I felt what girlhood is all about.
I’d called ahead to request pieces that were to my liking, and to my surprise, Jasper’s family was all for the black, helping me select the gown that I’d get married in.
Now, we’re rebuilding Emory, leading our Family out from under the complete devastation my father left in his wake, and placing roots right where we belong.
For a while after my father died, I had no idea what purpose my life had.
I’ve heard the tale from Jasper and Tyson, the way I behaved in the moments after his death, and although I don’t remember everything that happened, I know that I almost died, and that’s a place I never want to be again.
When his body turned cold, I felt completely empty, something I’d never experienced before, and I was willing to hand myself over to his men just to save Jasper and Tyson from dying, afraid that if I lost anything else, I’d crumble to dust.
Unbeknownst to me, Jasper launched two grenades at the men who were loyal to my father, blowing them to bits, and if I weren’t trapped in a post-murder trance, I would’ve become one with the sand, too.
Somehow, my body acted on autopilot and I wandered into the middle of the road, a mere ten feet away from the blast zone, the strike missing me by only a hair, and after the explosion, Tyson found me unconscious, but those memories, along with the first few hours after waking up, are still hazy.
Of course, I endured the lecture of a lifetime from Jasper and Tyson, and even though we’re piecing a crime Family back together, I’m no longer allowed to negotiate, if it ever comes down to that, because according to them: I’m too reckless, have a massive savior complex, and am too fucking stubborn for my own good.
Personally, I think I’m just a product of the way I was raised, unable to back down from a fight, or surrender, but no matter what you call it, I’m just thankful to be alive.
It took a lot for me to get to a mindset where I truly wanted to live, and now, there’s nothing I wouldn’t do to see another sunrise, to go through the motions of an average day, and wind down alongside the sun as it sets.
“That’s your cue, sis!” Alivia pops her head into the suite, ripping me from my thoughts as the song I chose to accompany me down the aisle begins to play, and I’m rushed into place by Vanessa, the oldest Masseria sister, while Alivia fixes my hair.
I’ve never had sisters before, the family I had back on the West Coast becoming dead to me the second my father’s body was buried six feet into the dirt, but as I hold this bouquet in my hands and look to my right, there is something missing.
My father was complex to say the least, his motives surrounding my adult life equally as extreme as they were disgusting, but I’m still just a girl, wishing her Daddy was here to walk her down the aisle.
It’s painful, not having him here, like a hole inside of me that’ll never fully close, but the therapist I speak with on a weekly basis has coached me through this, reminding me that it’s okay to miss him.
I’ll never admit it, though, because the things he did were absolutely unacceptable, so instead, I stuff that emotional baggage down, leaving it at the door as I prepare to become a wife to the two best husbands a girl could wish for.
Right on cue, the doors to the venue swing open, and I catch a glimpse at my grooms, both of them waiting for me at the end of aisle, just as I requested, but looking so much fucking sexier than I could’ve imagined.
Whenever I see my boys in suits, I melt like my bones are made of hot lava, but tonight, they’ve gone all out, their matching black suits accentuating every muscle in their bodies.
Tyson’s jewelry shimmers under the venue’s lighting, and while Jasper has worn a jacket, he left the tie loose, and the top two buttons of his shirt open, proving that some things never change, even when so much else has.
The second I step into view, they both break down, not even bothering to hide their emotions, but I’ve been on the verge of tears all day, the idea of being worthy enough to marry scaring the absolute fuck out of me.
Now that I’ve been out in the real world, and out from under my father’s thumb, I’ve learned how to deal with true feelings, things like fear, anxiety, and a lack of confidence that I’d experienced previously in my life, but was never able to vocalize or work through.
Some of those thoughts are pesky, meant to bring me down, but shoving them aside isn’t a healthy coping mechanism, and although crying is new to me, I’ve opened myself up to the idea of vulnerability, which is exactly what tears on your wedding day is.
Luckily, three of us are doing this together, learning as we go, but as I stroll down the aisle, we’re all crying, the pure beauty in this moment bringing out the sides of ourselves we were taught to never let show.
It’s healing, and with Tyson and Jasper beside me, I’ve been on the most rewarding of personal growth journeys.
“You wore that just to kill me, didn’t you Principessina?” Jasper whispers as I step onto the altar, meeting his gaze for the first time, the tear streaks on his cheeks only reminding me of the monumental step we’re all taking.
“You’ve never looked more beautiful, Carter,” Tyson adds, kissing me on the cheek as he takes my hand in his, turning our attention to the officiant.
As he speaks about love, trust, and the sacred bond of marriage, I reminisce on everything we’ve been through, the tumultuous relationship bringing a smile to my face as the last few years blow through my mind at rapid speed, some memories good, some not the best, but all culminating into one beautiful montage.
“Jasper, do you take Carter to be your wife, until death do you part?” The vows begin, and I hold my breath, waiting for two little words that will turn this from a ceremony, to a commitment.
“I do, in every single lifetime,” he replies, a playful grin on his face as he quotes himself from the very first time he confessed his feelings for me.
“Tyson, do you take Carter to be your wife, until death do you part?” The officiant asks, and he barely breathes, turning toward me with so much emotion in his eyes, I can feel his love for me running from his soul, straight into mine.
“I do, wholeheartedly,” he chokes out, the tears falling down his cheeks once again, but he leaves them be, enhancing this moment beyond my wildest dreams.
Today, I’m nothing but a princess, standing in front of the two princes that saved her life, vowed to care for her in every single realm of the universe, and have pledged to do so until their very last breath.
“Carter, do you take Tyson and Jasper as your husbands, until death do you part?” It’s my turn, and luckily for everyone in this room, it’s the easiest question I’ve ever been asked.
“I absolutely do.”
“I now pronounce you husband, wife, and husband. You both may kiss the bride,” he nods, a beaming smile across his face as the words leave his lips, but the three of us, along with our guests, burst into laughter, the saying a little different than the usual line, but equally as powerful as the regular declaration.
We’re fucking married.
Tyson and Jasper keep their kisses family friendly, each of them offering a simultaneous kiss on my cheek, but we discussed this ahead of time, not wanting to give Jasper’s mother, or anyone else, a heart attack.
Later though, I know I’m in for the wedding night reckoning of a lifetime, and while I can’t wait to dance, drink, and celebrate our love with the people closest to us, the honeymoon is front and center in my mind.
“I can’t wait to strip you out of that dress, my pretty little wife,” Jasper teases, his hand clasped into mine on my left, while Tyson occupies my right side, escorting me back down the aisle as a married woman.
“You have no idea what we’ve got in store for you, baby girl,” Tyson chimes in, a certain devilish grin plastered on his face that I rarely ever see, the look on his face sending shots of electricity from my head, down to my toes.
It’s official, this is how the rest of my life is going to go, showered with love by the two men who would make hell rain down on earth in order to protect me, and after the emotionally draining day we all shared, my body is more than ready to lean into Tyson’s sadistic fantasies as my own personal drug of choice.
Every time his dark side makes an appearance, I take a euphoric trip to the edge of oblivion, and I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of free falling off the tallest cliffs with my husbands.