Page 54 of Protected by the Sinner (The Sinner’s Touch #2)
New Orleans
Months Later
Wedding Day
“Mom would be so proud. You look stunning!” Elodie says, spinning around me.
We did our research and decided on a Romani wedding, in honor of our mother. A way to pay tribute to the woman who, despite having made the wrong choices, loved us and tried to protect us in the only way she knew how.
Beau said he didn’t care about a religious ceremony, since, like Amos, he’s an atheist.
Typically, Romani weddings last for three days, but we chose to do it all in one. That would’ve been a bit much, for my husband and for Violet, who inherited her father’s impatience.
The tribute is reflected in my outfit—my dress is red and fully embroidered—and in the decor. We found out that in a traditional Romani wedding, the couple’s commitment is often made in childhood.
We hired a celebrant for the ritual.
It could’ve taken place in a church, but we preferred an outdoor wedding, in our garden. The celebrant explained that the ceremony would involve two daggers, a red scarf, bread, salt, wine, and a crystal glass.
The wine symbolizes eternal happiness, the bread and salt represent unity, the crystal glass is for peace, and the dagger is used for the blood communion.
We won’t follow everything to the letter—it wouldn’t be fair to Beau, who hates being the center of attention even on our wedding day—but as Elodie said, it’s the intention that counts.
I stand in front of the mirror, admiring my dress. Lilly is a designer and insisted on making it herself. It’s beautiful, and I feel like I’m living a dream.
Our sister-in-law stepped out for a few minutes, maybe sensing that Elodie and I needed a moment alone.
In the past, I never could’ve imagined something like this. Even though Beau and I have been living together since practically the day we met, today is the real celebration of our union. A love sealed by the baby we made and, God willing, the beginning of a big family.
I want to have more children. Fill the house with kids and grandkids on special occasions. I want to create so many memories that everything we lived through on that farm eventually fades into something small and insignificant.
“Do you think Mom will know, from wherever she is, that we’re throwing this celebration for her?” I ask.
“I’m sure she does. She must be so happy for us.”
I look at my beloved sister and wish I could see real joy on her face, but I know her heart is still broken over that Italian guy, even if she never talks about it.
Elodie hardly ever comes home. She took a course and now works as a flight attendant.
She had to plan ahead just to take time off and come to my wedding, but she says she loves waking up in a new place every day.
I hope she forgets the man who hurt her and finds her soulmate, like I found mine.
“I think we should get going. Beau’s getting anxious.”
Beau. The man who, I know now, was always my destiny.
Celebrated by the media as a playboy, feared by his enemies, and adored by me and our daughter.
He never stops surprising me. He even investigated our mother’s death just to confirm it was natural, not at the hands of that monster, Tobias.
He also arranged for her remains to be moved to Louisiana. Neither I nor Elodie wanted her to stay buried on the farm, the place that brought so much pain. The land where all her dreams of a happy life were shattered and her joy stolen.
News of the cult stayed in the spotlight for a while, especially after five of the elders went missing—one of whom was our father—and the trial of Mr. Josiah Wiley, who, although Beau never said so directly, I believe is the only surviving “elder.”
The charges against him currently include child abuse and unlawful imprisonment, but the prosecution is collecting evidence related to all the missing boys. We’re hopeful he’ll get the death penalty.
The girls who were rescued eventually got their documents and were taken to the institution my brother supports: Trust Again.
There, they receive psychological support, attend school, and slowly begin to learn about the world they never knew.
I went to visit them. Some were still toddlers when we escaped the farm, while others seem to carry some resentment for having stayed in that hell while we got out.
I pray every night that someday they’ll reconnect with themselves, just like Elodie and I did.
A knock at the door draws our attention.
“Ready?” my brother asks, looking handsome in his suit.
“Yes. A little anxious too.”
He steps inside and offers me his hand. “You’re getting married, but you’ll never be alone. Neither of you. No matter what happens, I’ll always be here.”
I hug him, trying not to cry.
Amos is as emotionally reserved as Beau, and I know those words carry more weight than they seem to.
“I wouldn’t let you go far anyway,” I warn.
“Me neither,” Elodie chimes in. “You’ll never get rid of this duo again, brother.”
I’m trembling as I walk down the aisle with my brother to meet Beau. Elodie is on my other side.
“Are you sure this is what you want?” Amos asks, holding my hand. “There’s still time to back out.”
Anyone else might think he’s joking, but I know he means it. Amos would whisk me away in a second if I said I had changed my mind.
“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life. I’m just feeling a little anxious.”
“He’s crazy about you. I wouldn’t let you marry LeBlanc if I believed otherwise.”
“Me neither,” Elodie adds, and I shake my head, smiling.
“You two are insane. It’s way too late for me to back out,” I say, and my eyes instantly land on my daughter in Lilly’s arms. She’s wearing a dress identical to mine, just like my sister-in-law’s twin girls.
As if sensing I’m talking about her, Violet starts bouncing in her aunt’s arms, and Beau turns around. Our little girl is restless, and now that she’s started, she won’t stop until her dad picks her up.
Amos’s wife hands her over, and her chubby arms wrap around my fiancé’s neck, her drooly little mouth—probably from teething—planting a big kiss on his cheek.
I watch as he holds her tight against his chest, and I start crying.
I pull away from my siblings and run to them, hugging both at once.
“I just broke every protocol,” I say, trying to dry my tears. “But I got so emotional seeing you two together. We’re a real family now, my love.”
“Protocols are for normal people to follow. We’ve never fit that mold, Amber. Our love doesn’t fit any definition. Never has. Never will. I love you, my Romani bride.”