21. Epilogue
Paris in the spring is like a fairy tale. The smell of freshly roasted coffee wafts through the cobbled streets, mingling with the aroma of butter and delicious pastries. I lean over the iron railing and look at the street below. People are so small from this height that they almost look like ants to me.
From this outstanding height of almost one thousand feet, the Champs de Mars below is a green oasis of spring delights. The creamy organza of my wedding dress sways lightly in the Parisian wind, like a cloud among clouds up here. I smooth down the Watteau train and hold the delicate tulle between my fingers so that it doesn’t get tangled.
“Wow, you look like an angel,” Jo says.
She and Larisa emerge from inside the champagne bar, holding tall glasses filled with the bubbly liquid.
“Do you really think so? Is Evan going to like it?”
They both start laughing. “Honey, you could’ve showed up here wearing a pair of pajamas and he would have still begged you to marry him!” Larisa says.
“Guys, come on…” I say, even though I’m secretly pleased by this.
I take a few steps and can feel the large and heavy wedding dress shift around me, almost like water. The corset is laced tightly, making me feel like a princess. Larisa and Jo hold the train for me, and we step inside the champagne bar where our little party is gathered.
“Hey, there you are!” Jacob greets us. “Emmy, you look incredible! Congratulations! Evan is a lucky man!”
“Thank you so much, Jacob! And thank you for securing this place for us. I mean … the top of the Eiffel Tower? In April? Getting married to my best friend in Paris in the spring? I feel like I’m dreaming,” I tell him.
“Please, don’t even mention it. This is what you deserve. Both of you. Emmy, your story is so special. As a couple, you and Evan deserve the world.” Jacob hugs me.
Jo looks at him with so much love and pride in her eyes, that I simply don’t know how she doesn’t burst.
From behind him, Larisa and Gianluca step forward as well, greeting me.
“Emmy, you look … meravigliosa!” Gianluca says in his unmistakable Italian accent. “Congratulazioni a tutti due, eh?”
“Thank you, Gianluca, you’re so kind!”
“But I have to say, Timothee Chalamet was so jealous when I told him that you’re getting married. He really had his eye on you,” Gianluca says.
“You’re joking! I mean, we did talk briefly at the wedding, but I’m pretty sure I made a fool of myself.” I start laughing.
“No! Ma che temporary thing, Emilia? Ma, no! He was… assolutamente in love with you!” Gianluca says.
“Alright. Enough champagne for you,” Larisa tells him and kisses him fondly on the cheek. “Having the wedding here on top of the Eiffel Tower was a splendid idea but I don’t know if we had to rent the champagne bar as well,” she jokes.
“Amore, what are we going to drink? Acqua? It’s a wedding! A party!” he says and starts clapping his hands to the rhythm of la Tarantella.
Larisa starts laughing but stops him nonetheless. “I was only joking. Stop being so loud…”
“Yes, and please, Gianluca, don’t mention anything about the actor around Evan, alright?” I reply.
“Really?”
“Oh, yeah. He was raging after he saw me walk down your aisle with Chris Evans.” I laugh. “And Chris is married!”
“Imagine what would’ve happened if he saw you hitting on Timothee Chalamet then,” Jo jokes.
“I didn’t hit on him! You practically forced me to talk to him! I was a bumbling idiot. I don’t even know what I said. I’m pretty sure I blacked out the whole time.”
“Well, you obviously left a lasting impression.” Larisa giggles.
Before I can say anything else, our conversation is stopped by the wedding planner who comes to let us know that Evan is ready and waiting on the other side of the tower.
“But … I can’t find ze flower girrl, madam,” the woman says in broken English spoken, with a heavy French accent.
“You know, I really think that accent is fake,” Larisa tells Jo behind my back.
“Of course, it’s fake! She’s from Poughkeepsie, New York!” Jo replies.
“Shut up! She is not!”
“I’m telling you!”
“What is Pugh-crispy?” Gianluca joins the conversation.
“Guys,” I intervene. “Where is Clem? The wedding planner can’t find her.”
“Well, she was here a moment ago.”
“Come on, where could she have possibly gone? We’re at the top of the Eiffel Tower!” Jo says.
“Is it possible that she went back down?”
“Not a chance. The elevator is only worked by the mechanic guy, and he hasn’t moved from the snack bar in the last hour,” Jacob says. “She must be around here, somewhere.”
“Clem? Where are you, darling?”
We spread around a little to look for her.
Finally, Larisa, Jo, and I poke our heads through the wooden doors at the entrance of Gustave Eiffel’s office at the top of the tower, which is usually a museum. Today, it’s a make-out spot for Clem and her boyfriend, Dalton.
The moment they spot us, the two teenagers break apart, making a sound like a plunger being popped from a kitchen sink. “Hi, mom! Umm … Dalton and I were just … ummm…”
“Yeah, there’s no need for an explanation, darling. We’ve all been there. Just come out here, please. The wedding is about to start, and we need you. Also, don’t let your father know about this, okay?”
“Yes, Mom!” Clem smiles and jumps up.
“Sorry, Mrs. Carlton. It won’t happen again,” the teenage boy says with a grin.
“Yeah, right,” Jo replies, rolling her eyes.
We watch them walk away and take their positions as indicated by the wedding planner.
“Teenagers really have no clue what they’re doing, do they?” Larisa laughs.
“I don’t know. I think they’re kind of cute. They remind me of myself and Evan at that age. Of course, we were never boyfriend and girlfriend but, who knows, they might be soulmates and end up married in the future.”
The girls put their arms around me, and we spend a few moments in the silence of the small room.
“This is it, guys. I’m the last of us to get married. Once that ceremony is over, we’ll all be Mrs. Carlton, Mrs. Ferraro, and Mrs. Davis. Oh, that’s a lot when you think about it, isn’t it?” I ask.
“We’ll always be Jo, Larisa, and Emmy. Like we used to be. These are just new chapters in our lives, wonderful adventures that we’ve embarked on with these incredible men. But, at the core, it’s still us, honey.” Jo assures me.
“Do you promise we’ll be friends forever?” I ask them.
“Even when we’re eighty and old ladies with white hair and thick glasses, I promise we’ll still be best friends, just like we are now!” Larisa says.
“Guys, how about this? Let’s make a pact!” I tell them.
“A marriage pact?” Jo laughs.
“No, no. A friendship pact. How about, when we’re eighty, we all come back here, to the top of the Eiffel Tower with our husbands, our children, and grandchildren, and have champagne?”
“That sounds like an incredible idea!” the girls agree.
We hug for a moment more before the wedding planner walks inside the room. “Emmy? It’s time.”
My heart starts to beat madly.
As soon as I step outside into the bright light of the Parisian April day, all I can see is Evan. It’s as if everything else has been deleted from my mind and he’s the only thing that matters.
He grins from ear to ear and waits for me at the end of the aisle. Only a few steps, but what a long way to go. While I walk down the aisle, I realize that it’s exactly the way our relationship has been.
Evan was always only a few steps away from me, but it took me seventeen years to get to him. The ways of the heart are intricate and difficult to understand.
He reaches out for me, and our hands meet.
Finally, we’re face to face at the end of this long journey, happier than ever.
“Dearly beloved, we’re gathered here today to witness the marriage of Emmy and Evan. Two people who have spent their lives together in friendship, harmony, trust, loyalty and now … love. There is nothing better and nothing more glorious than seeing two souls who truly love each other come together. Emmy and Evan have prepared vows. Let’s hear them!”
Evan clears his throat and looks into my eyes.
“Emmy, over a decade ago, when we were nothing but teenagers, I asked you to be mine. That was a childish game we were playing, but my heart did not understand the meaning of games. My heart was falling in love with you. Fast forward seventeen years, just as our marriage pact was coming to a close, and I stood again before you and asked you to be mine. Luckily for me, you said yes, with all your heart. Emmy, this I vow to you. I will spend the rest of my life trying to make you happy. I’ll continue being your best friend as I have always been, protecting you, cherishing and honoring you, loving you, adoring you. The first seventeen years have been nothing but the beginning, this I promise you. Our happiness starts here and now, a thousand feet above Paris, among the clouds!”
Tears are falling down my cheeks, tears of elation and joy.
The small gathering that represents our wedding party, our friends and families, cannot stop themselves from clapping and hooting while listening to Evan’s speech, no doubt moved by his words just like I am.
When the appreciation dies down, it’s my turn.
“Goodness, that was … incredible. You are incredible!” I smile and look deeply into his eyes. “Evan, I met you when I was just eleven years old. And you’ve been my best friend ever since. You know everything there is to know about me. All my secrets and all my thoughts. But there’s one thing you don’t know—which is why I approached you that first day, in the schoolyard.”
The wedding party gasps as if they’re watching a movie.
I smile and continue my wedding vow to Evan. “That day, when I looked at you, I didn’t see a boy lost and in need of a friend. That day, I saw my best friend. I approached you because I knew, in my heart, that you were the person I wanted to be with. Something drew me to you that day, an invisible force—love. I knew that we were destined to grow old together as friends, as lovers, as husband and wife. Perhaps, over the years, I got a little lost along the way. But you were always there to pull me back, to bring me to shore, and to keep me afloat. And for that, Evan, I promise that I will dedicate my life to loving you. To making you happy, to honoring every gift that you’ve given me, and try to give it back—all the love, the friendship, the support, and the respect. Evan, you’re my best friend, my soul mate, and my one true love. I love you!”
Once again, the little crowd gathered at the top of the Eiffel Tower starts to clap.
I look toward them and can see Larisa and Jo crying while their husbands try to console them. Our families cheer for us with their hands in the air. In the corner, Clem and her boyfriend, no doubt emboldened by all this love, have gone at it again.
“Ladies and gentlemen! Honored guests! Let’s settle down and hear the bride and groom! Evan Davis, do you take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife, in sickness and in health, for richer and for poorer, ‘till death do you part?”
“I do!” comes Evan’s answer, loud and strong.
“Emmy Williams, do you take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband, in sickness and in health, for richer and for poorer, ‘till death do you part?”
“Absolutely I do!” I answer, unable to contain my tears.
Evan picks me up in his arms and kisses me, not able to resist any longer.
Through the tears of happiness and our first kiss as a married couple, I can hear the minister saying: “I now proclaim you, husband and wife! You may now … umm … well, you already are … kiss the bride again, then!”
We kiss again while our wedding party claps and cheers.
Below us, the streets of Paris are in full bloom, blessing our union with their eternal charm.
“Well, Mrs. Davis, we did it!” he tells me.
“So, I’m Mrs. Davis now? Not Emmy or Dolly?”
“You’ve always been Mrs. Davis.”