Epilogue
Bobby
“This suit is the tits.” I run my hand down the lapel of the killer velvet suit in Storm Chasers black. How could I pass it up when it goes so perfectly with my new gold Gucci loafers? “I’m going to be feeling myself all day.”
Dan-O makes a retching noise. Druggy frowns and walks out of the guest room, grumbling something in Russian under his breath. Benny just throws his arm around my shoulders and takes a picture of us in the full-length mirror.
“It’s the perfect material for Mei. She’d love to spit up on you.”
I shrug him off me and straighten my tie. “I thought I’d be nervous on my wedding day, but I’m not.”
Benny grins. “Just eager to marry her, right?”
An image of me and Molly curled up on the couch downstairs and Matthew buzzing through to get a drink out of the kitchen fridge runs through my brain. It’s what our life has been like since our double proposal three months ago. Perfection. “Exactly.”
“Bobby? Druggy said you needed me to do something?”
I turn from the mirror to see Matthew coming into the guest room in his own suit. Molly nearly killed me for spending so much on a growing boy, but I got him a matching velvet suit for the wedding. “There’s my best man!”
I pull him into a hug and try to mess up his hair, but he pushes me off him with a teenager scowl. He’ll take a lot of rough housing, but hates having that hair messed with now. Molly says it looks like a llama, and I have to agree. What’s up with these youngsters these days?
“I got something for your mom. A little pre-wedding gift and I was hoping you’d deliver it for me.”
I grab a flat black box off the dresser and pop it open, holding it out to Matthew for inspection. On the velvet inside lies a pair of sparkling diamond earrings and a necklace with my number 62 in diamonds. Molly’s career has taken off the last few months with her newfound confidence. She even stood up to those jerks she works with who were pushing her around. I figure a few more diamonds might make them choke on their own jealousy a bit more.
Matthew whistles. “Holy shit. Mom’s gonna love it!”
I don’t correct his language. It’s my wedding day, after all, and he’s about to become my son. I snap the lid shut again and hand him a smaller box. “Got something for you too.”
Matthew’s gaze darts to my face. “You did?” He opens the box to see a luxury brand watch that’s got everything from a compass to a flashlight to a step counter and sleep tracker. The back is engraved with today’s date.
I put my hand on his shoulder. I could swear he’s already starting to put on some bulk from the weight-lifting we’ve been doing together. “It’s not every day I get to become someone’s bonus dad. I’m not great at verbalizing feelings, but I want you to know that I can’t wait to marry your mom for a whole lot of reasons, one of which is because it’ll make you and me family.”
Matthew’s cheeks go pink, but he’s smiling despite his embarrassment. “Thanks, Bobby. I was actually going to ask you something. I talked to Dad last night and he said he was okay with it. Can I call you Pops?” He rushes on, like he isn’t getting me choked up already. “Or something similar? Daddy seems a little juvenile. Old man seems kinda rednecky.”
“Matthew,” I stop him. “Pops is perfect. I love it. And I love you.”
His head dips, but not before I see his eyes fill with tears. I pull him in for another hug and this time I don’t try to mess up his llama hair. “I love you too, Pops,” he whispers into my chest.
“Jeez, who’s cutting onions in here?” Benny hollers, swiping at his eyes and not bothering to pretend like he didn’t just eavesdrop on our conversation. Cappy hands Mac a tissue before taking one for himself. Dan-O sheepishly puts down his phone. That idiot was recording everything.
I release Matthew and shove both boxes in his hands. “Can you give the gift to your mom before the ceremony starts?”
“You can count on me.” Matthew gives me one last smile before darting out of the room.
Not even ten minutes later, the music starts downstairs. I rush out the door, down the stairs, and out into the backyard of my new house. The boys are on my heels, hurrying to find their women and take their seats, along with Ramona and her husband, Coco and her latest young boyfriend, and Blake and his boyfriend. Even Ashley is here, currently sitting next to Cappy who’s flirting outrageously with her and getting nowhere.
Molly and I decided on a small ceremony with just our friends. Our families are both still a work in progress, so we decided to plan a reception for later this month with them. The ceremony is for our chosen family.
I take my place at the front of the chairs next to the minister. Matthew stands next to me, giving me a thumbs up, indicating he got the gift to Molly. The photographer flutters about, snapping pics and memorializing this moment. The music shifts and Molly comes out the back door of the house. Everyone stands up and my breath catches in my throat. She looks like a dream in a white lace dress that hugs her curves and then flares out along the ground at the last minute. It’s like the pencil skirt of wedding dresses. Her hair is soft and curled, dancing around plump breasts that I already can’t wait to get my hands and mouth on.
But it’s her smile that makes tears flow down my cheeks unashamedly. She’s not nervous. Just calm and happy and proud to be walking toward me. She glides down the five concrete steps and Matthew runs down the aisle to offer her his elbow. She gives him a kiss on the cheek and lets him escort her the rest of the way to me. That was a secret plan Matthew and I came up with weeks ago. She hands her flowers to Ramona in the front row as she walks by. Her tears match mine when Matthew squeezes her in a fierce hug and then stands next to me.
It feels like everything clicks into place when her hands slide into mine. The minister says some things and we respond, but I’m not really paying attention. I’m just swimming in Molly’s presence, wondering how the hell I landed the sweetest, prettiest, hardest working woman in the whole world. I do hear the minister announce us husband and wife, the cue I can finally kiss this woman.
I take Molly in my arms and look down into those hazel eyes I know better than my own. “Today’s just the start of an infinite amount of days where I show you how much I love you, my wife.”
I dip my head to kiss her, but she shoves her finger over my lips. “Today’s just the start of an infinite amount of days where you shock me with your fashion sense.”
My mouth drops open. “You love this suit. Admit it.”
She raises an eyebrow. “I love you . . . ”
I clear my throat and reposition my hands on her body, attempting to wrap her up like a Burmese python and never let her go. “Do you mind saving this for later? I have to kiss my wife in front of all our friends.”
She smiles, her finger leaving my lips and tracing across my dimples. “Yes, please.”
I dip her over my arm and lay one on her that she’ll remember for the rest of her life. Our friends cheer and Matthew groans something about adults being gross. All I care about is that Molly is mine and I take care of what’s mine. I wasn’t kidding about what I said to her. I intend to show her every day for the rest of our lives how much I love her and cherish her. I never thought something would occupy my thoughts more than hockey, but here we are. I’m obsessed with my wife.
After a disturbingly long time, I let her come up for air. Our guests have mostly wandered off to the tables in the back of the yard where Richie conned the Irish Rogue into catering our wedding. There’s a beer keg on tap and all the fried foods one can eat. You’d be surprised how much greasy grub professional athletes can eat when they let loose.
Molly pulls a tissue out of the plunging neckline of her wedding dress and swipes it across my lips. “That’s better. My lipstick clashed with your gold shoes.”
I wag my eyebrows and hold her hand, lacing my fingers with hers. “There’s some other places on me I’d like to find your lipstick, wife.”
Her cheeks turn pink. “So no more Sparkle or fluffernutter? Now you’re just going to call me wife all the time?”
Fuck, I love the way that sounds. “Damn right.”
And then we celebrate with our friends all night.
Our chosen family that never gave up on either of us.