28. Keith
KEITH
HAPPILY EVER AFTER
My heart was going to explode.
Breathe in, breathe out. No spontaneous combustion!
Despite the frantic thoughts swirling around in my head, I tried to maintain a calm demeanor as I smiled out at the hundred or so guests Olivia and I had invited to our nuptials.
They were all part of her pack, except for the three humans.
Only two were my personal guests, but I didn’t mind that at all.
I was pleased with how many had shown up considering there was still a good chunk of her distant family members who were highly displeased that I knew about shifters.
It didn’t help that right after I was told, my mother, Amanda, and then my woodworking mentor got pulled into it, but it helped that Mr. Pickingill already knew about them.
Still hadn’t gotten that story out of him, but considering he spoke fewer words in a year than there were days, I was hoping I would get to hear it by around 2030.
“Unlock your knees, my dear,” my mother whispered behind me, and I immediately did so.
The last thing I wanted on my wedding day was to faint in front of everyone.
I’d seen that happen far too many times during band and chorus during my short stint on the percussion line, and I wasn’t keen on sidelining my own wedding day with that.
“Thanks,” I whispered back before returning to concentrating on keeping the terror out of my expression.
I didn’t know why I was going to such lengths to appear cool as a cucumber when nearly everyone in the room was a shifter and could smell how excited, nervous, happy, scared, worried, thrilled, and terrified I was.
Did I mention how excited I was?
One might not expect a backyard to be intimidating—after all, that’s where water balloon fights and cooking s’mores over a bonfire were supposed to happen—but the entire place had been arranged so wonderfully by our “planning committee” that anyone who saw our wedding album would think we got married at a professional venue.
Gone were the metal folding chairs and wooden tables that had plenty of wear and tear, instead replaced with what I was told were the “special-occasion chairs.” They were all lined up in neat rows stretching from where I was standing under the wedding pergola all the way to the back doors of the house.
I’d worried that it would be gauche for me to use the same wedding pergola I’d made for Leandro and Roma, but the moment their wedding was over, they had insisted Olivia and I use it next. If we wanted to, that was.
And we definitely wanted to.
Although no one had said it out loud, it seemed the Rizoli family had a new tradition. And the fact that I was the one responsible for it wasn’t lost on me.
What was lost on me, however, was the time, because every minute that passed as I waited to see my beloved again was an eon.
Our music wasn’t even that slow, but it took an entire age for the pack officiant, Olivia’s grandparents, her parents, and me to walk to our places.
Then, after that, it was Amanda with my mother, who made quite the striking pair if I did say so myself, then Rolando and Ginna.
Olivia would have preferred for Serafina to be her other bridesmaid, but the twins were still too young, and we all decided it would be too stressful for Cillian to try to keep the twins quiet on his own, especially since they were still in the terrible-two phase.
It had worked out for the best, because Ginna had ended up saving the day with her own set of twins (not blood related, of course).
The music changed, and my heart lurched, because that was their cue.
A moment later, two adorable little dogs dressed to the nines in what I was sure was designer-wear cantered down the aisle in lockstep, two rings in cases secured to cushions on their backs.
I had been a touch dubious at first, because I’d seen videos where a lot of things went wrong when animals were involved in nuptials.
Then again, my soon-to-be in-laws could magically shift into wild, prehistoric animals, so I figured it was better to sit back and let the expert do her thing.
And that had been the right call, because everyone started making noises of delight or approval at the perfectly executed march.
Note to self, never doubt Ginna when it comes to her dogs.
Her love life, maybe. But not her fur babies.
From the corner of my eye, I saw both our photographers going absolutely ham as the two dogs took their place on either side of the wedding pergola. One with the ring I would give Olivia, and the other with the ring that Olivia would give me.
God, I wanted to see her so bad. To hold her hands. To look into her eyes and say the vows I had worked so hard on. But there was one more step before I’d finally get to look at the woman I was going to spend the rest of my life with.
The flower grandmas.
Sure enough, when the back doors of the house opened and Nonna Bianchi and Nonna Rizoli stepped out, a literal cheer sounded from everyone in attendance.
While Nonna Bianchi waved it off with her hand and Nonna Rizoli gave a dramatic bow, I could tell that both women were absolutely loving each moment as they walked down the aisle and tossed the flower petals.
When the music next changed, those curtain doors would open again, and that would be it. It was Olivia’s time to walk down the aisle so the two of us could join hands in front of everyone we knew and held dear.
It was more than enough to get me emotional, and my eyes began to sting. But I had sworn to myself that if I was going to cry at my wedding, it was going to be for my wife and my wife alone, so I braced myself and flexed my toes to distract my tear ducts.
It worked, and I made it all the way through the older women’s journey down the aisle to where Leandro and Riccardo were waiting on either side to escort them to their seats.
It was time!
As soon as the thought finished in my mind, the song I had been waiting for began to play.
It was a melody that felt as old as time, so ingrained in American culture and media, and yet it might as well have been composed for the two of us.
These were the notes I would hear every time I recalled this day, every time I lovingly remembered how beautiful my bride was when she walked down the aisle that her family had so lovingly prepared for us.
“Remember, breathe and keep those knees unlocked.”
Honestly, I was grateful for the reminder, because the doors opened and I was treated to the most ethereal vision I had ever seen in my entire life.
Olivia...
She could have walked down the aisle in a potato sack and I still would have been thrilled, but this was so, so much more.
That gorgeous hair of hers had been piled so high atop her head it was basically a crown, and soft coral roses and pearls had been mixed throughout it.
Michelangelo himself couldn’t have made a more beautiful image, no matter how many Sistine Chapels he was given.
“My God...” I whispered to myself. Really, only a deity could be responsible for such beauty. Olivia captivated me in every single way possible, and those tears I had so successfully fought against suddenly had the upper hand.
She held a massive bouquet, one no human would have been able to carry.
Roses, baby’s breath, all sorts of things that I didn’t really have the name for despite Serafina trying to educate me.
It was an explosion of color but also a reminder of how much her father and sister loved her.
They had put their blood, sweat, and tears into their gardens, and in the end, they chose to sacrifice those blooms for Olivia’s big day.
I had a lot to do to prove that I was going to be a good son and brother-in-law to them, but I was thrilled about the challenge.
And then there was her dress.
Olivia was relentlessly sexy. Whether she was brushing her teeth in the morning, sleep crust still in her eyes, or excitedly telling me about the most recent gig she’d landed, I was always attracted to her almost to the point of distraction.
But now? Every cell of my body was being pulled toward her in that dress.
It hugged her body, accentuating all the parts of her that made my blood thrum, and the style seemed like the perfect mix of classic, new, and entirely Olivia.
She was so fucking beautiful as she slowly sashayed down the aisle, her veil translucent enough so I could see that perfect face of hers.
But it was the telltale hitching of her chest letting me know that she was crying that did me in.
My own tears welled over, and I wondered if it was possible to die from too much happiness.
What a way to go, though!
“Here,” my mother said quietly, tapping my shoulder. I turned just enough for her to hand me some tissues, which I put to good use as Olivia floated down the aisle.
She was a dream. More than a dream. She was a prophecy of our future together.
Laughs and victories, losses and late nights.
Family drama, car troubles, and happy holidays all stacked on top of each other.
It made a beautiful vision, one of depth, and any hope I had against the tears was utterly gone.
And then she was in front of me.
If she was gorgeous walking down the aisle, the image of her hazy through my tears, then she was downright resplendent in front of me. Even with the ethereal gauze of her veil, I was utterly enamored with her beauty.
“Hey,” I murmured, pleased that my voice didn’t go crazy through the sheer amount of emotion churning through me. There was a fierce sort of protectiveness in my chest, something masculine and primal, along with all the force of love I had for her.
“Hey,” she said right back, and although it was only one syllable, for us, it said so much.
Just like it always did.