26. Brooklyn #2
Our fingers twine together as if we intend to never let go, and now it’s my turn to make him believe I mean each and every word.
I repeat the vows, saying them as clearly and confidently as Luka did for me.
As each word comes out of my mouth, the intention with which I repeat it grows.
This may have started out as a sham, but it doesn’t feel like it now…
and I want nothing more than to make my life with Luka work.
He cups my face in his hands at the exact moment I decide what I want for our future, his grin stealing my breath right before he kisses me softly, tenderly. Lovingly.
Everyone claps and cheers and I barely have time to pull my emotions back in before we’re ushered down the aisle as man and wife, flower petals raining down on us.
I’m Mrs. Luka Zoric in name, and if things continue like this, I will be in heart, too.
I don’t let myself overthink anything as we follow our guests up the curving, split staircase that leads to the reception upstairs.
The intricate gilded iron railing is decorated in pink and cream flowers with plumes of natural greenery, and tea lights glow softly at the edges of each step.
I laugh a little as I take it all in. Even the stairs are perfect.
“Take a deep breath, Brooklyn,” Luka whispers in my ear. “The hard part is over.”
I smile up at him and enjoy the depth of emotion rippling through me. Finally, we enter the second-floor ballroom, hand in hand, to loud cheers and a few whistles.
Above us, billows of organza drape from the ceiling.
Perfectly arranged tables are set with lightly patterned china and cut crystal glasses rimmed in gold.
Four-foot tall crystal flutes hold floral topiaries, and live cherry blossom trees stand at each end of the long table for the wedding party.
The pale pink fabric napkins I picked out have our initials monogrammed on them and look amazing beneath the golden glow of the flatware.
As much as Luka left the wedding decisions to me and the planner, I also encouraged him to incorporate some personal elements of his own.
I spy the first of our little personal touches as a server comes around with his favorite gold label Veuve Clicquot champagne.
Another has a tray with hors d'oeuvres of my favorite Great Lakes whitefish with rosemary and cucumber on rye toast, and Luka’s requested crème fra?che and caviar tartlets.
We’re handed champagne and we clink our glasses together before taking a sip.
With a quick pull of his hand on my wrist, I’m up against my husband and he’s kissing me with the sweetness of champagne on his lips. Tilting my head, I take his mouth deeper, pressing into the warmth of his body.
Luka presses a hand to my back, his fingers splaying against my bare skin. His breathing picks up, his grip on me tightening…
“Groomsmen! Gather around Luka!”
My head is swimming as Luka is peeled away by a man with a camera on a tripod.
Luka insisted we hire an outside professional to take pictures so that Emzee could just enjoy herself, but as the resident photographer in the family, she couldn’t help bringing her own camera to the wedding.
I’ve already spotted her snapping photos, and I’m glad.
I know they’ll be way more fun, intimate, and candid than any of the posed pictures that our hired photographer will get.
Tori loops her arm through mine and spins me out of the way just in time for me to see Luka and the groomsmen pull up the legs of their pants to reveal knee-high Minnesota Wild socks, resplendent in the hockey team’s garish red and bright green team colors.
Even our littlest groomsman, Tori’s adorable eight-year-old half-brother Max, is in on the tacky sock flashing.
Luka winks. I laugh. He warned me that he might add a few crazy elements to the wedding, and considering the huge smile on his face right now, I’m glad that he did.
The evening flows on like a dream. Every time I see Luka across the room, each time he takes my hand, or kisses me at request of the guests, or gives me a heated, lusty glance, I melt a little more.
Watching him joke with Mateo, the rift between them mended now, is the icing on the cake.
When there’s a lull, Mateo comes over to me with a glass of champagne and a smirk on his face. “Girl, you are glowing,” he tells me.
“I’m happy,” I can’t help gushing.
“Of course you are,” he says. “Have I ever steered you wrong?”
“Never,” I say, pulling him in for a tight hug. “Thank you for…just everything.”
Finally I find myself in Luka’s arms for our first dance as husband and wife.
“Well, hello, Mrs. Zoric,” he croons as he pulls me against him.
“That has a very nice ring to it, Mr. Zoric.”
He tilts his head and gives me a questioning look. “Do you really think so? You won’t mind having my name?”
It feels so right. I’ve made the right choice, and the content look on his face says he feels the same. For the first time, we’re completely connected. I want it to stay that way.
Resting my head on his shoulder, I nuzzle against his neck. “I’m proud to have your name, Luka.”
A warm kiss presses against my temple right before he tugs me upright and gives me a spin. The crowd cheers.
My heart cheers.
Everything feels exactly right, like my life with Luka is finally coming together perfectly. And as I look into his eyes, I know—I won’t let anything stand in the way of our future.