Page 49 of Integrated (Mistress & Master of Restraint #11)

Chapter Forty- Six

“Are you nervous? You keep fidgeting.” The concern in Marc’s voice nearly does me in. I cannot believe this is finally happening.

Lately my life has felt surreal, as if I’m waiting to wake up one morning to find out it was just an elaborate dream. A fantasy I wish I were living, when in reality I’m still stuck in that motel in rural Pennsylvania– a teenage ghost who haunts the patrons.

Rubbing my hands on the hanky I have hidden in my pocket manages to center me. It also conveniently removes the evidence of just how nervous I truly am. The perspiration on my palms is easily hidden, but I cannot hide the way I’m trying to control my breathing. I pretend I’m not gasping for air, ignoring the way my chest is rapidly rising and falling.

“Nervous? Understatement.”

Marcus and I are standing in my dining room, looking out the portico doors. The view is spectacular, unlike anything I’ve ever seen. No event at Shadow Haven could compare to the splendor of Cortez’s and my union.

Shadow Haven has hosted many a wedding, all of which I’ve been included. My mother’s marriage to Marcus, I was the best man. Cortez’s marriage to Divina, I was the best man. Aaron’s marriage to Kayla, I was the best man. Cortez, Katya, and my commitment ceremony, obviously I was not the best man, in more ways than one.

Of all the previous unions, nothing compares to the five months of continuous planning with my favorite plotter. Every other wedding was orchestrated by others. This time around, we did every detail ourselves.

Cortez would kill me if he ever found out I thought the word groomzilla just once, let alone how I thought it repeatedly on a daily basis. While I fear disappointing Cortez on our wedding day, he does as well, which makes for a perfect union.

There was a delicate balance needed, allowing for a period of grief to be respected, so it didn’t look as if we were spitting in Katya’s face. Cort and I came to an agreement as May being the perfect time. While the divorce was only finalized in March, we had been separated since Christmas.

Spring, where everything gets to start anew.

While stressful, our wedding preparations were mutual. Never before had I cared, nor did Cortez. When he married Divina, all we did was show up. Nothing was up to Cort– it was the Pearl, Diane, and Divina show, similar to how Marcus and my mother’s wedding was also a production put on by those same three ladies plus Celeste, may she rest in peace.

Every detail of this evening was agreed upon. No decisions made without total agreement by the both of us. If we disagreed, we bartered until we were both satisfied… and the bartering was worth pretending to disagree, just to see what bonus Cortez would offer me. I would never admit it to him, but ninety percent of the time, I actually wanted what he wanted. But it was more fun arguing with him, watching his face turn red as he got pissed off, then making him smile when I caved to his demands, even though I wanted to do just that from the get-go.

Shadow Haven’s lawn is filled to capacity with every person we’ve ever came into contact with. It snowballed, but it truly does make one feel special to know these people are here for us.

Just us, Cortez and me.

“I can’t believe you have cold feet.” Marcus mutters in utter disbelief, and with far too much amusement in his voice for my liking. If anything, his confidence in me helps comfort me some.

“Not cold feet– hot, stinky, sweaty feet from freaking out,” is muttered out the corner of my mouth, lest someone overhear. “I’m nervous because I’m scared shitless I’ll disappoint Cortez. It’s me were talking about here. I have shitty marital track record.”

A dry, strong palm cups the nape of my neck, and I instantly relax. It’s as if Marcus flipped some hidden switch within my brain with his comforting yet commanding touch.

“You could walk out there naked after gaining seventy pounds, with your dick shriveled up, while balding on the top of your head and turning gray around your pruny pecker… and Cortez would still fall to his knees and worship you. Your marital track record is more on me than you, I believe.” Beyond guilty, his hand falls from my neck, much to my disappointment.

“I just want this to be perfect. Five months of planning, thirty-four years in the making… I’m finally going to be Cortez’s husband in truth, in every way imaginable.” Tone filled with wonderment, a silly grin curls the corner of my lips. “I cannot believe it.”

“I can,” Marcus murmurs, smiling like a sonofabitch. “It’s about fucking time, Ezra. I’ve worked my ass off getting you to this monumental moment, so if you get cold feet, screw you, buddy. I’m gonna drag your ass out there and get you hitched!”

Quietly chuckling at the determination in Marc’s fierce amber gaze, I just shake my head back and forth in utter disbelief. “I cannot believe this is truly happening. If anything goes wrong, I’ll never hear the end of it. It will be decades’ worth of torture.”

“Nothing will go wrong.” Marcus assures me. “Who cares if the caterer serves the filet medium-well instead of medium, or if the sea bass is dry. We’re all here for you and Cortez, not the food. But yeah, you’ll never hear the end of it.” Marcus snickers, a happy sound that soothes my frayed nerves and puts a smile on my face.

“God, I hope not,” I draw out. “I look forward to hearing Cortez bitching at me, just so I can choke him into submission.”

“Kinky,” Marcus murmurs in appreciation. “Never understood that part of you guys, but to each their own, I guess. Now take a deep breath.” He commands, and I obey by drawing in a deep lungful of air. Then I hold it for several seconds, expelling it out slowly. “Better?”

“Much. Thank you. Really, thank you so much, Marcus. We appreciate you and all you’ve done for us. Truly.” I usually mask the reverent quality in my voice when I’m speaking to Marcus or about Marcus. But right now, I show the man who’s been my only father figure the depths of my emotions. “I love you,” I whisper near his ear as I pull him into an embrace.

“You’ve never said that before.” Voice breaking slightly, I can tell Marcus is getting choked up. “You’ve said things like, ‘ I did this or that because I love you ’ or ‘ you know I love you ,’ but you’ve never just said I love you ,” he breathes the words, because they’re directed at me as mine were directed at him.

Holding onto Marcus as tightly as possible, I twist my fingers into the back of his designer tuxedo jacket, which was ridiculously expensive. How do I know the cost? Because Cortez and Marcus promised it was worth every penny, and they were right.

A few moments ago, when Marcus walked up to me, I was blown away. Speechless. Perfectly form-fitted, the suit made his hair appear even blacker, like freshly spilled ink swirled upon the page. It should be criminal to look like Marcus does in a tux– the grooms are pale by comparison.

But then again, I think it was the naughty smirk on Marc’s face that made the man look downright sinister. It was the smile of a man who’s finally seeing the hard-earned fruits of his labor.

“I love you,” is whispered again. Then I tenderly kiss Marc’s neck beneath his ear. Breathing in his comforting scent, I’m happy that even when getting married, Marcus is with us. He will forever comfort, support, and push me to do what’s right for me.

Emotions overpowering me, I turn snarky like Cortez always does. “You’re my hero.”

Laughing, Marcus pushes me way. “Good God, son. Cortez is wearing off on you.” Amber eyes sparking with amusement, Marcus leans forward to press his lips to my forehead, allowing them to linger for several long moments.

I’m left gasping by the time Marcus pulls away, overcome by emotions. “We’re really doing this?” I whisper to myself. “Un-fucking-believable.”

“I do believe I have a duty, as does your best man.” Marcus politely gestures to Zane, then walks out the doors, across the patio, down the limestone steps, and waits for Cortez and me on the raised dais. Ever the commanding scene-stealer, Marcus smiles and waves to the crowd of hundreds sitting and standing in Shadow Haven’s expansive lawn.

“If it helps, Cort’s just as nervous as you.” My empath of a son knows exactly how to comfort and reassure me. “Judging by the worried expression on both your faces and the way you feel inside my head, you’re nervous for the same reason.”

“And what reason is that, son?” is asked as I turn toward Zane. “I think it would be best described as petrified excitement.”

Zane looks almost as ethereal as his sister, who’s sulking over in the corner like a naughty pet. Ava’s pouting for all she’s worth. She’s perfected the art over the past five months. I’m thoroughly impressed by my daughter’s ability to bring her father to his knees, begging to hear her sweet voice.

If ever a woman has put me in my place, it’s Ava.

My escorts are in light gray with blue accents to darken their eyes. Zane is in a matching tuxedo to the one Marcus wears, only in gray instead of black. Zane wears a blue shirt with no tie, looking very dapper and more mature than a boy of fifteen. His wild white ringlets always make me smile, and today is no different. If Zane were any other kid on the planet, even if they were a stranger, I’d be ruffling those curls. But Zane’s empathy causes him discomfort, which is exacerbated by touch.

Ava is in a silky flow of blue fabric that just floats on her waifish body– less waifish as she fills out into a woman, much to my disappointment and fear. Ava is looking less and less like my mother as she ages, as she loses the childlike features of her youth. Her hips are turning into the curves of a woman, which causes fabric to cling instead of camouflage. The dress seems to accentuate what I usually make my daughter hide in school uniforms or prim skirts. This dress was most definitely Katya’s doing– probably trying to give me a coronary.

Ironic since I never saw fifteen as a child when I was that age. But now that my children are teenagers, my opinions have drastically changed on that subject… and I don’t foresee them changing until Ava is at least thirty.

“I just left Cort.” Zane informs me, and it causes my anxiety to run rampant. “You have maybe two minutes before we enter stage left.”

Our unconventional nuptials demanded an even stranger wedding party. Zane is my best man, Julio is Cort’s, with Ava as our lone groomsmaid, and the twins as the flower girl and ringbearer. We’re keeping it simple with just our children and the lone brother.

My oldest and I get into position. Same sex marriage is an interesting conundrum to the traditional wedding customs, with everything bride this or that. Bridesmaids and bridal party, everything done to showcase the bride, as was evident by all the bridal shit at our bachelor party.

Cortez and I may love men, but that doesn’t make us women. I refuse to pigeonhole either of us into that role during our union. Instead of an aisle the bride walks down, Cortez and I are entering at the same time, left and right of the dais with our party advancing first.

“Dad?” Ava softly whispers in my ear.

A whiplash effect, it baffles me how my children are exactly the same height as me. The three of us are exactly six-foot, as is Cortez.

I’m thankful I haven’t grown since I was fourteen, or I’d be worried my daughter would be freakishly tall for a young woman. She’s already a commanding presence, to tower over a male would make it worse. But then again, good. I don’t want my Ava around any boys after the Niel disaster.

“Yes, Monster?” I twist her nickname with affection.

“This is amazing.” Ava breathes, captivated by the scene before us. “I’m so happy and excited. If you don’t believe me, ask Zane.” Nothing but grudging respect for her brother. “I love you, Daddy. Thank you for finally making it official with Cort. Now when I call him Dad, it will be true.”

I receive an affectionate kiss to my cheek, then my baby girl gets into position, awaiting her brother. Zane pats my back, flashes me an uncomfortable smirk, then kisses me too. He offers his arm to his sister like the quiet gentleman he is, and Ava readily accepts.

Standing like an idiot, with the world’s largest grin on my face, my children block my view of what’s to come. It’s a gorgeous evening in late May, the temperature warm bathwater. The setting sun casts the sky ablaze a brilliant shade of crimson, turning the clouds pinkish. If I were a gooey sort of man like Cortez, I’d say God was showing us his love and approval from high above, by lighting the sky the color of love and passion on our wedding night.