Page 5

DEACON

“ A re you hiding?”

Turning his head in my direction, my father removes the cigarette from his mouth. “Figured you’d call me when you needed me.”

Crossing the threshold, I step out onto the small alfresco area attached to the side of our reception venue and lower myself to the wooden bench beside him.

Sidling up to him, I nudge his shoulder. “Are you okay?”

His brows knit together. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

I shrug, not really having an answer but wanting to check in on him nonetheless.

“That was a lot of crying you did back there at the ceremony,” I tease.

A husky chuckle leaves his mouth. “I don’t recall you holding yourself together any better than I did.”

We’re so alike, Dad and me, that it feels like more than a coincidence that we’ve both been on our own road trip of self-discovery at the same time.

“Thank you for coming today, Dad,” I say. “I know how ha?—”

His hand squeezing my knee silences me. “Today is your day, Deac. You don’t need to mollycoddle or worry about me.”

He says it as if it were easy, as if these last five years seeing him without my mother didn’t make me feel like a selfish prick, every. Single. Time.

After choosing to go no contact with her, I learned that she and my father had separated. With every intention to repair their marriage and deal with their grief, I know his side of the journey. But the unspoken rule about my mother, as a person, as the person who has hurt me the most, I don’t ask and they don’t tell.

“According to Julian, I do that,” I say. “Worry about the people I love.”

“I love you too, son,” he says, patting my knee. “I’m so honored to be here, seeing you and Julian as grown men.” The last word gets lost in a shuddery breath, and I don’t need to guess why. “I’m just basking in it all,” he admits. “There’s a lot of peace that comes with knowing your kids are happy and loved.”

“Are you happy and loved, Dad?” I find myself asking him before I even have a chance to process just how hard this question might be for him to answer.

“I am,” he says quicker than expected. Surprising me, he stands up, and I follow suit until we’re facing each other.

Large, firm hands settle on my shoulders. “Life didn’t go at all how I expected it to, and I know I’m not an anomaly or unique, and there are many people in this world who have endured the same or worse than me, but today, sitting here with you, I don’t hate where it’s led me.

“I think happy and loved look different for me at this stage of my life, but I’m good here.”

Eyes like mine, just older and wiser, hold my stare as my chest tightens at his honesty. Empathy and understanding settle between us.

“Thank you, Dad.”

Wordlessly, he pulls me to him, hugging me close. There’s no rush in our embrace, all the things we’ve shared, out loud and in silence, alone and together.

“I love you, Deacon.”

“Love you too.”

“What’s this?” Victoria’s question interrupts the moment, but my face splits into a smile at the sound of her voice. “Did I miss the family meeting?”

Turning, I extend an arm out to her. “You’re just in time.”

She huddles between Dad and me as we both wrap our arms around her. “Seriously though, what did I miss?”

“Your brother thinks now that he’s married and a huge sap, that we all have to be.”

“Hey,” I say in mock defense.

“Says the man who was crying while walking Deacon down the aisle,” Vic teases, and the three of us laugh.

It feels good to be like this with my family, the mood light and the three of us joking and enjoying the day, despite the unavoidable onslaught of emotions. Even though the focus of the day is on Julian and me, I love how in this moment we can talk so freely, about anything.

We’re proof that we’re constantly living and learning. We’re growing and evolving, the perfect example of how possible it is to be both hurt and happy.

“I hate to break this up,” Victoria eventually says, “but your husband is looking for you. He’s waiting to dance with you.”

My husband.

I feel my grin widen at his new title, knowing the elation at hearing it would never cease.

“I’ll meet you inside,” I tell them both, my feet moving before the words have even left my mouth, desperate to get to my husband .

The thought of Julian waiting for me, knowing that this dance is one step closer to our night together and our honeymoon, has my heart racing. I would never get enough of him. It’s just that simple. Being in his presence, breathing the same air, waking up in the same bed. It doesn’t matter what we’re doing, as long as it’s together.

Walking back into the reception hall, I’m expecting Julian to be talking to a few guests, milling around in a group somewhere waiting for me.

What I don’t expect is him in the middle of the room, hands in his pockets, casually waiting for me. Tux jacket back on, he looks as handsome and radiant as ever, his features content, his body language relaxed.

Smiling at me, he extends an arm out, calling me to him, guiding me into his arms, welcoming me home. As I place my hand in his, the music begins to play, and I let him lead me around the dance floor.

The sound of Dermott Kennedy’s “What Have I Done” fills the room, the lyrics hitting me just as hard this time as they did the first time I heard them. I’m not an avid music listener and can’t keep up with things that are popular and trendy, but every now and then the right song finds me.

“Who knew this whole time, all I had to do was ask you to marry me and you would dance with me,” Julian teases.

“You know I’m awful at it,” I answer. “I’ve got two left feet.”

Julian presses his hand into the side of my torso. “Lucky we practiced, then.”

“I wasn’t going to pass up the opportunity to dance with you in our living room every night this week,” I confess.

“All you ever have to do is ask.”

I know he meant it beyond just dancing in the living room. Our life up until tonight has been proof of that, it isn’t just in the words, but always in his actions. There is no doubt he would give me the world, even without me asking.

And even though it’s more than reciprocated, the inner voice sometimes gets the better of me. My insecurities understanding why I want to give him everything, but not believing I deserved it in return.

“How long do you think before we can ditch this party?” Julian asks, and the unexpected question has me laughing out loud.

“I thought I was the only one thinking that,” I reveal.

He tips his head to the side. “I am very much ready to take this party elsewhere. Somewhere a little more private, if you know what I mean.”

I subtly press myself against him, knowing it would take little to no time for my body to react. “Just say the word and your wish is my command.”

Dancing ceases as eager lips find mine, his mouth wordlessly telling me exactly what he wants. Moving my hands to his face, I kiss him soft and slow, trying to tame our insatiable need. While kissing him is always familiar and safe, I could feel the exhilaration of the day skirting around the edge of every touch.

It feels new and elevated, in a way I hadn’t anticipated, because while we were living like a married couple up until this point, it was the big “fuck you” to anyone who ever doubted us that fueled the fire.

The music changes, and our guests fill the dance floor, but even air can’t get between us. If it isn’t our mouths pressed together, it’s our foreheads, our gazes locked. I’m lost in his chocolate-colored eyes with nothing but the future mapped out in front of me.

With him by my side, I can see the bigger house, the lifelong friends, and a family. In his eyes, I see the life neither of us thought we were worthy of, but a life that we would cherish and protect, above all else. Together.