Chapter 124

I peek under the lid of the huge pot in the kitchen, checking on the boiling lobsters, pleased to see them turning a bright and shiny red. Grinning, I lower the lid and turn towards the oven, wanting to peek at the steaks finishing up in there as well. Because nothing says wedding feast like surf and turf, if you ask me.

“I still can’t believe you’re cooking your own wedding dinner, Bambs,” Frankie says next to me, laughing and shaking his head as he concentrates on slicing the gorgeous baguettes we picked out this morning.

“What,” I say, glancing at him with a little smirk as I crouch down by the oven, peeking in. “Want me to let Nico do it?”

“Above all things,” Frankie replies, laughing under his breath. “Do not let Nico in this kitchen. He has his own expertise, and food and wine is not it.”

“What is it then?” I ask, turning as I stand and glancing into the living room where Nico sits with Tony and Lucy, chatting happily and drinking wine as the sunset light streams into the room from the windows behind them. “Scowling? Being derisive?”

“Powerful tools in this world, Bambs,” Frankie murmurs, slapping some butter on a fresh slice of bread and offering it to me. I grin as I accept it, taking a big bite. “Don’t underestimate the quelling effect of Nico’s judgment.”

“Oh, I’m aware,” I say with a happy sigh, leaning back against the counter and finishing my little slice. “I’ve been on the wrong end of it many times.”

Not today, though, I think to myself as I chew. No, today Nico has been…really, really nice to me. Everyone has. But I guess they’re giving me a break on my wedding day.

God, my wedding day.

Is it even real?

But as Christian walks out of the bedroom, his eyes fastening immediately on me, and I break into a smile…

I have absolutely no doubts. It is real, and it’s wonderful.

Even if…

Immediately Christian crosses the short distance to me, and Frankie sighs subtly as he puts his knife down and heads into the living room, taking his glass of whiskey with him and giving us a moment alone.

“Hello, beautiful bride,” Christian murmurs, slipping an arm around my waist and pulling me close. “What can I do to help?”

“Nothing,” I say, grinning up at him, raising my arms to wrap around his neck. “Just go relax with the others – this will be ready soon, though we’ll all have to eat off our knees, which is kind of a shame.”

I laugh at the idea, but Christian frowns a touch, staring down into my face.

“I’m sorry, baby,” he murmurs, lifting a hand to cup my cheek, his thumb tracing slowly over the soft skin of my face. “I didn’t…I didn’t even think of that.” He scowls and looks into the living room like it’s all his fault.

“Christian, no!” I protest, laughing and tightening my arms around his neck, standing on my toes and smiling up at him, making him turn back to me. “It’s fine, who cares! The food is going to be delicious, and it’s an amazing day! That’s…that’s all that matters.”

But even as I say it, I can feel my stomach sink. Because…

Well, because it is wonderful. But it’s not perfect, is it?

“Oh my god,” Christian murmurs, and I look back up at his face, not even realizing that I dropped my eyes.

“What?” I ask, confused.

“Iris,” he murmurs, shaking his head, his eyes softening with guilt. “Look what I’m doing – talking about some little thing that I feel guilty about so you spend your energy comforting me, telling me that it’s all alright. When really, I haven’t…I haven’t even asked you how you feel. Which is clearly…not okay.”

I blink up at him, a little surprised that he picked up on that. Has he been able to read me this clearly the whole time?

“Tell me,” Christian murmurs, staring intently down into my face, empathy all over his. “Was this…was this bad? Should I have…not done it this way?”

“Well, why did you do it this way, Chris?” I ask, the very real question eagerly bubbling to my lips. “If you…well, if you wanted to marry me, why didn’t you go the more traditional route? Why didn’t you ask me, and then let me plan a wedding?”

He sighs, looking seriously into my face.

And in that, I have my answer.

“Oh,” I say, my eyes widening as I take a step back. “So, this was…this was not fully romantic, was it?”

Christian tightens his grip on me for a moment, wanting to keep me close, but he lets me go when he realizes that he has to let me have the space if I need it. “I married you because I wanted to marry you, Iris,” he replies, his words soft and firm. “Because I’ve always wanted to marry you, and I’ve finally raised the courage to buck the traditions that would have stopped me from doing that. But if you’re asking me about the timing?”

Christian turns his head to the side, quietly implying that it is…not unrelated to his choice.

“Oh,” I say, dropping my hands from his neck and tucking them quickly behind my back. Christian sighs and unwinds his arms from around me, though he keeps his hands on my shoulders, letting them drift slowly up and down up my arms. “So, then, what was it?”

“Protection, Iris,” Christian murmurs, holding my gaze and letting me see the truth of it. “And plausible deniability. The…story we’re going to spin to my dad is a romantic one. And, also, the truth, for what it’s worth. That I rescued you and broke all his laws because I’m in love with you. Because you’re my wife.”

I blink at him, a little shocked because…

Well, because he’s never told me he loves me before. And I’m not sure I expected to hear it…like that.

And honestly, my heart sinks a little bit more. Because today was very romantic but…well, in this light? It’s more practical than I thought.

“So, you married me for the story,” I say softly, almost a whisper.

Christian shakes his head, hard. “No, never. I was always going to marry you, Iris – even if I was in denial about it to myself. And I’m sorry for that. Just…I needed to marry you today to keep you safe.”

I clench my jaw a bit as the romantic rose-colored tint to the day shifts a little, as I start to see the realities of it. And my eyes fall to look again at the sweatshirt I was married in, the sundress. The pink jellies.

“Is it so bad, Iris?” Christian whispers, and I can hear the guilt in his words. “I married you because I love you. The rest, to me, is…inconsequential.”

I nod, hearing him, thinking it through. But I guess, in my heart of hearts, if I’m being honest too? Then it’s not inconsequential.

“I’m not sure it’d what I’d have picked,” I murmur, saying the words as I think them, scuffing my silly four-dollar shoe against the kitchen floor. “If…I’d had any say in it.”

And when I look up at my husband to see the consequences of my words, my heart absolutely breaks to see the devastation on his face.