Chapter Thirty-Seven
Naomi
I will not cry.
I refuse to cry.
Fuck, this is what alcohol was for! I cannot take this much emotion—
“Toma.”
Theresa holds out a tissue which I take with a very quiet, “Thank you,” because Elias is only just starting his vows and I’m already in fucking tears.
I didn’t expect to be so overwhelmed by the simple reading of a goddamn Bible passage.
It was just so fucking perfect for them, and I know Nelly chose that shit.
That well-read bitch knows how to sucker punch a crowd.
“Penelope Violet,” Elias purposefully left off her last name because in moments he would be giving her his. “I knew from the moment I met you that you were going to change my life forever. To be fair,” he grins. “I was not entirely sure it would be for the better….”
Several guests laugh and Nelly smacks him in the chest- playfully, of course.
The church is gorgeous, an absolute classic for both New York and Catholicism and Elias’ mother is clearly so thrilled to see her son getting married in the same cathedral where he was baptized as a baby- or so I was told.
This is where the entire family has been coming for two generations.
Every baptism, every communion, every Mass.
And religious or not it is a kickass venue.
Ten stars, the pictures are going to be amazing.
“At first,” Elias continues, looking so deep into Nelly’s eyes that he may actually drown in them.
I have never seen a man more absorbed in his significant other.
Well, except maybe Graham. “I admit, I did think you were quite a bit of trouble. I mean, here was this beautiful woman- far too young for me- who I was utterly incapable avoiding. Mostly because every time we crossed paths you managed to leave something in my possession. Your purse,” he reminds her with a smile.
“Your shoes. Eventually, I started to tell myself, Elias, esto es el destino o una maldición… y no importa cuánto corras, ninguno de los dos te va a soltar.”
Clara begins to whimper in front of me, and I hand her the tissue quickly to dab at her eyes. Across the alter Graham catches my eye and I glower when he clearly tries not to laugh at my emotional meltdown.
Fucking asshole.
Of course, I’m a mess. My best friend in the entire world is standing in front of the man she loves, in this beautiful church, wearing a lace wedding dress that looks like it was painted on. Everything about this moment screams emotional breakdown.
There are paparazzi outside, trying to beg their way in, but only the single photographer they hired will be getting a single shot.
On Elias’ side stands Rowan, Graham, Cristian, and Elias’ brother. They all look impeccable in their shark gray three-piece suits, all of them wearing periwinkle ties that match our bridesmaid dresses.
Graham looks especially good, sporting a fresh undercut pompadour, his beard trimmed to a faint shadow across his jaw.
I have loved you from the moment I saw you.
“The more I got to know you, the more I became sure it was fate.” Elias’s thumb glides across Nelly’s knuckles softly.
“You’re so vibrant and alive and funny. You’re not afraid to ask for what you want.
You have the strangest taste in books of any woman I have ever met, which is anything but a complaint.
Fill our home with every volume if it makes you happy, I’ll just keep building shelves to put them on.
I’ll build you entire libraries if that’s what will make you happy. ”
“You’ll be doing that on your own, amigo,” Rowan grumbles at his back. Again, the guests begin to laugh, both Elias and Nelly joining them.
“I’ll be happy to,” Elias chuckles. “Because nothing is too much for you, Poppy. There is not a single thing I would not do, no dream too lofty that I will not help you reach. I love you, with all my soul. And I pray your vows are shorter than mine so that I can finally make you my wife.”
Another laugh and I hold out my hand to Theresa for another tissue, dabbing at my makeup.
Across the aisle I meet Graham’s eyes again.
He’s smiling softly now, no longer laughing at me.
His mouth doesn’t even twitch with amusement as his gaze travels over me from head to toe and back again.
Slowly, languidly, heating my body with nothing but that simple perusal.
That woman is going to be my wife.
Perhaps that outcome wouldn’t be so bad?
Perhaps marriage isn’t a lost cause for me?
I’m not my mother. I’m not even biologically coded to the possibility of ending up like her.
Whatever happened to my birth parents was a product of circumstance beyond their control.
Maybe, if it’s the right person- if it’s Graham- the fears I’ve built up in my head are just that…
Fears, not certainties. Insecurities cultivated by someone else’s mistakes, not mine.
Nelly sniffles slightly, licking her lips before giving her soon to be husband a watery smile.
“Elias Gabriel Cristian Santos,” she says his last name with so much love and care, cradling it upon her tongue as if it means the entire world to her that he’s going to let her share it.
“The moment I met you my first thought was- I hate that I have a boyfriend—”
“I am right here,” Cristian mutters. His uncle claps his hands on his shoulders with a soft chuckle.
Nelly waits for Elias to stop laughing before continuing.
“I’m sorry, you’re just really attractive.
And then you started singing and… Yeah, I was gone for you.
Dangerously all things considered. You had a hard time avoiding me?
Elias, I thought the universe was actively working against me every time we met because I was weak when it came to you.
I couldn’t resist you when you were near, but I couldn’t bring myself to stay away. ”
God, but she really couldn’t. I vaguely remember through the haze nights at El Rincón when she danced on him, grinded, let him drink tequila off her tits. Elias Santos turns Penelope Hastings into a wild card not one of us knew how to play.
On the other hand, Clara and Rowan fell in love so naturally. Nothing standing between them, not a single bump in their relationship. He stood by her through her auditions and rehearsals. He picked her back up after the horrible ordeal of her assault. He’s as steady as the tide, her constant.
Not one day has passed without me wanting you, missing you—even when you’re right here.
“And then you were mine,” there are tears in Nelly’s voice.
She sniffs softly. “And I couldn’t believe I got to have you.
Sometimes I still can’t quite believe it.
That I get to wake up to you every morning.
That I get to see every version of you- even the one that’s cranky because your back hurts after pushing yourself too hard at the gym.
” He bites back his laughter. “I can’t believe I get to have coffee with you, late movie nights.
That one day I’ll get to hear you singing our children to sleep.
And I can’t wait to fall in love with you again and again, day after day, for the rest of forever. ”
My own chest feel much too tight. My eyes burning with tears I refuse to let fall and my heart stuttering when I find Graham still watching me like he hasn’t heard a word being spoken between our friends.
I love you—pathetically, desperately, with every broken piece of my heart and soul.
“I love you so much, Elias Santos. Will you please make me your wife?”
The guests laugh. Even the priest chuckles as he asks for the rings. Elias slides a beautiful rose gold band onto the finger still adorned by Nelly’s poppy shaped engagement ring. Then she slides a solid black one onto his left hand.
“Elias Gabriel Cristian Santos, do you take Penelope Violet Hastings to be your wife, in sickness and in health, to have and to hold, until death parts you?”
Elias has never smiled so brightly. “Sí, I do.”
The priest turns to Nelly. “Penelope Violet Hastings, do you take Elias Gabriel Cristian Santos to be your husband, in sickness and in health, to have and to hold, until death parts you?”
Nelly is practically vibrating where she stands. “Sí,” she mimics her new husband. “I absolutely do.”
“Then by the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband,” he looks first to Elias, then to Nelly. “And wife. You may kiss the bride.”
No one has to tell Elias twice. He pulls Nelly into his arms so fast she nearly trips on her train and plants one on her so passionately her back bows until I fear her spine might snap.
But it doesn’t and she’s laughing when they part and the priest can hardly finish the final blessing upon the couple and their guests before Elias is kissing her again and again and again… .
And they’re married.
“It is my honor to present to you, Mister and Missus Elias Santos,” the priest gestures to them and Elias holds Nelly close as she takes her bouquet back from Clara, holding it high in the air in triumph.
They’re married.
Elias and Penelope are married. Clara and Rowan are married and I’m… I’m…
“Naomi?” I turn to find Graham waiting to lead me back down the aisle, offering his arm patiently. “You ready?”
It was real for me. Every moment of it was real.
Swallowing I nod, looping my arm through his. “Yes… I think I am…”
He smiles, somehow gentle and mischievous at once and together we walk down an aisle littered with flower petals to a cacophony of applause. And for just a moment I let myself get lost in the noise and the familiar comfort of forest green eyes.
???
The reception is being held at a beautiful event hall not far from the cathedral- after we take what feels like five thousand pictures and I am so starving I could eat my own hand. The very moment the wedding party is told its time to, I practically sprint toward the doors
Graham is laughing his ass off as he trails behind me.
We’re introduced in duos. Theresa and Elias’ brother, Emmanuel first. Then Ivelisse and Cristian, who gives his aunt a little twirl to the applause of the guests.
Rowan and Clara follow and they immediately show up Cristian and Ivelisse when Clara does like seven pirouettes- so that slit in her dress isn’t because she’s a little slut- is snared dramatically by her husband, who plants one on her for so long it’s a wonder they don’t get shooed off by his family.
His father- Elias’ uncle and therefore front and center at the tables- actually whistles.
“We don’t have an intro.”
I look at Graham who is nervously chewing at his thumb nail as he waits for us to be announced. “What?”
“We don’t have an intro,” he says again, gesturing to the doors through which we are going to be entering in less than ten seconds. “They’re all doing fun shit and we,” he gestures between us. “Have nothing.”
Right, because we’ve spent the better part of this week glaring at each other. I think on my feet as the lead singer of the live band takes to the microphone again to announce us.
“Next we have the Maid of Honor—”
“Can you flamenco?”
“What?” Graham blinks.
“Naomi Mychal! And Groomsman—”
“Can you fucking flamenco?!”
“Of course I can—”
“Graham Rosales!”
The doors open and I spin to face him, grabbing my skirt and placing a hand on his chest to push him backward through the doors. “Then lead.”
Graham’s eyes widen, but he catches on just as quickly as he does in the bedroom, falling into sync with me like we are made to move together.
The band immediately realizes our intention, just as they did with Clara, and strike up the right tune for the first sixty seconds of a proper flamenco rhythm.
I haven’t danced like this in years, since my father made Nathan and I both take lessons as teenagers, but Graham has perfect rhythm.
With him leading we draw rapturous applause and whistles from the crowd as he sweeps me into the center of the room for exactly sixty seconds with fluid, passionate movements that leave us both breathless when we finally pause.
His green eyes are bright, chest heaving as he smiles down at me, cheeks flushed handsomely. And there in front of a crowd which includes not only our friends but all of Elias’ family- the family that took him in when his failed- he bends to kiss me.
And I let him. For the first time in four years, I kiss Graham Rosales in front of an audience on purpose, and I wonder why we weren’t doing this the entire time.