It’s the cheesiest thing I’ve ever seen.
It’s fucking perfect.
“I can’t believe it,” Dimiv muses. “My eternal bachelor of a cousin, getting married.”
I laugh, eyeing the bottle of vodka in his hand. “You were supposed to get the rings, you drunk bastard.”
He pulls out a tiny black pouch from his jacket pocket and hands it over. “I’ve always been good at multitasking. Two solid gold wedding bands and the perfect vodka to toast to.”
“I doubt we have time for a toast.”
He scoffs. “There’s always time for a toast. Especially to mark an auspicious occasion like this one. Where’s Nikolai? We can’t do this without him.”
“He’s bringing the officiant. They should be here soon.”
“Well, then fuck him,” he says with a devilish grin. “Let’s crack this baby open ourselves.”
He opens the bottle and pours out two shot glasses full of vodka. “Y’know, I always thought Nikolai would be the first to get hitched.”
“Yeah. That makes two of us.”
Dimiv lifts his glass into the air. “Well, to marriage in all its many forms. And all the twists and turns it brings. May your roller coaster be everything you want it to be.”
“What fortune cookie did you steal that from?” I taunt.
My cousin throws back his drink and immediately refills it. “Marriage made a poet of me,” he says with a wink. “Do you really think I’d have moved to goddamn Moscow for anyone else? Dagmara changed my whole world, my whole perspective on life. Our fathers liked to take the credit, but she made a man out of me.”
I roll my untouched drink between my fingers thoughtfully. “I used to think you were insane. Leaving the States, moving to Russia, all for a woman.”
Dimiv smirks. “And now?”
I pretend to consider it. “And now… I still think the exact same thing.”
He snorts with laughter. “Take it from a man who’s got nearly a decade of marriage under his belt: keep her happy. She’s always right and you’re always wrong. Happy wife; happy life. You remember that and you’ll stay married a long, long time.”
It’s not bad advice per se; it’s just not for me. Fighting is the slippery slope that led me to this day, to this woman.
“Thanks, cousin. I’m glad you could be here for this.”
“I wouldn’t have missed it for the world.” He beams and rips back the second shot. “Now, I believe it is time for the groom to get ready.” He points toward the back pew. “Suit’s in the bag there. Private room is just a little ways down the hall. Go get pretty—but take it easy on the lipstick this time.”
Chuckling, I pat Dimiv on the shoulder, grab my suit, and duck into the private room that overlooks the hospital’s manicured gardens. I stare out the window as I get dressed, trying to wrap my head around the surrealness of this moment. I’m getting dressed for my wedding. I’m going to get married. An hour from now, I’m going to have a wife.
It’s not something I ever thought I wanted before Alyssa.
When I step back into the chapel, I see Dimiv at the pulpit chatting animatedly with the officiant who’s going to marry us. I swear my cousin could talk the ear off a statue. I leave him to the schmoozing and turn to Nikolai, who’s just appeared in the doorway of the chapel.
“Took you long enough,” I say when I walk up to him. “Where were you?”
“Just checking on the bride. She looks phenomenal.”
He’d seen her already? In her dress? That irks me. But I’m willing to be charitable today. After all, it is my wedding day.
“Is everything good to go?”
Nikolai nods. “Yeah. Got the papers right here. We’re going legal with this shit.”
I smile. “By the way—you’re my best man.”
“Yeah?”
I slap him on the arm. “Who else?”
We embrace, clapping each other on the back at the same time. Nikolai even looks a little teary-eyed as he turns towards the pulpit, that sentimental bastard. “I’ll send Polly a text, tell her that we’re—”
Before he can finish his sentence, the doors burst open and Polly appears. Problem is, she’s out of breath and wide-eyed. I’m on edge immediately.
“Pol! What’s wrong? Is it Alyssa? The babies?”
“Um, I don’t know exactly. Alyssa wants to speak to you.”
“Is something wrong?”