Now? I must be a deer caught in headlights because everyone starts spouting encouragements at once. My mind whirls in a thousand different directions. I haven’t seen Lo all day, and maybe that’s what scares me about this impending ceremony. What if I arrive and he’s not there? What if it starts raining? What if lightning strikes a guest down?
“Lily.” Rose snaps her fingers in my face. She’s standing right in front of me. My high-octane maid of honor. She lifts my chin up so I meet her eyes and she says, “He’s waiting for you. Don’t be afraid.”
I inhale a strong breath. I’m about to marry my best friend. If I repeat it too many times, I start crying. So I pocket that thought, and I follow my sisters out of the hotel room and to the elevator. They’re all my bridesmaids, dressed in lavender one-shoulder gowns. What Rose called Grecian-inspired.
As we rise to the rooftop, she passes me my bouquet of purple flowers, the fancy name for them escaping my mind.
I am flooded with thousands upon thousands of memories that contain Loren Hale. In each one, some part of our bodies touch. Our hands. Our legs. Our hearts. Subconsciously, he guides me to the rooftop where he waits.
*
I hear the violins through the hallway door. Poppy, the last bridesmaid, just pushed through, leaving me in the Philly high-rise with my father.
“Is Maximoff outside?” I press him for information, maybe to prolong the mystery behind the door.
My dad avoids the answer. “We’re next.” He places his hand on my back. “Ready, Lily?”
Am I ready to marry the man who has my entire soul?
The nervous anxiety subsides. I am. But it’s not until my dad opens the door that I fully believe I’m marrying him. That this is my wedding day. October 10th.
On our terms.
At long, long last.
The skyline glitters in the sunlight, the air crisp and cool. And my sisters, in their purple Grecian dresses, stand in a diagonal line by an ivy arch. White flowers booming around the structure. Their smiles could light the sun.
Purple petals decorate the aisle, and our few family members, seated in white wooden chairs, turn their heads at my entrance. My mom with Jane. Willow. And Jonathan.
The dapper men beside the arch stand tall and poised: Sam, on the end, and Ryke, who cradles my son. Maximoff dressed in a red superhero cape and onesie, the letter M embroidered in black. Tears nearly burst forth, but I try my hardest to suppress them.
Make it to Loren Hale.
Make it to Loren Hale.
I repeat the mantra with each step forward. Connor stands behind Loren, officiating the wedding, but I focus solely on my best friend, shutting out the surroundings for an extended moment.
In a perfectly fitted tux, Lo waits at the end of the aisle for me, his hands cupped in front of his body. Those intoxicating amber eyes never diverge from mine, never break or part or leave me.
He is ice and scotch, sharp and dizzying—breathtakingly gorgeous. And when he looks at me, I see those thousands of memories course through his gaze. The seven-year-old us performing a backyard ceremony. The nine-year-old us racing around his father’s mansion.
The fifteen-year-old us flipping through comic books on his bed.
We have consumed each other from day one. And we truly never let go.
Only a few paces from Lo, my dad kisses my cheek, returns to his seat next to my mom. Rose collects the bouquet from me, and I’m whisked by my own feet to Lo’s side
Magnetically, we cling together, his hand slipping into mine, our legs knocking as they find each other. We stand so close, like we fear someone else pulling us apart. I subconsciously tune out the music, and Lo cups my face, his eyes dancing across my features.
Mine fly across his.
I’d like to skip ahead, to the part where we kiss. Lo must read me well. His smile suddenly dimples his cheeks, and he whispers, “Soon.”
Soon. I like that.
“Lily, Lo,” Connor says, attempting to deter my gaze. It works after he calls my name a second time. And I plant them on the well-dressed, impeccably styled Connor Cobalt. He’s a billion dollars, and the perfect officiator for our wedding.
Lo told him nothing formal for the ceremony, something short and sweet.
“Before you each say a few words to each other,” Connor tells us, “there’s something we all want to say to you.”
My brows scrunch and I look to Lo. He shakes his head at me like he wasn’t warned about this plan. I scan my family in the audience, and my mom’s already dabbing her eyes with tissues. Jonathan is beaming with pride, and my sisters…I turn to them, and they’ve sincerely lost it. Daisy is passing a tissue box down the line.