Chapter 125

“Tell me,” Christian begs, clearly wanting to know what it is that I’m upset about – what parts of our wedding day didn’t appeal to me.

“Chris, no,” I murmur, raising my hands to wrap around his wrists, eager to end his pain immediately. “It’s fine! It was wonderful! This is what I’ve always wanted – dreamed of, never thought could ever happen –“

“Tell me, wife,” he commands, his tone brooking no compromise.

And I can’t help it. My mouth twitches up a little when he calls me his wife, and after a moment, his, too, breaks into a smile.

“Please,” he amends, wrapping me up in his arms again. “Please tell me. I want to know.”

“Well,” I sigh, leaning hard against his chest, looking up into his face. “I wouldn’t have been all beat up,” I murmur, gesturing towards my face. “And I’d have wanted a dress. A white one. Pretty.”

Christian frowns, his thumb drifting softly over the bruise on my cheek, the healing little cut on my lip, and I realize that he stopped noticing them – that he thinks I’m beautiful even with them there. But then he smiles a little, even as he listens. “But you’d keep the shoes?”

“Yeah, I’d keep the shoes,” I whisper. And he laughs lightly, pleased.

“I’m sorry, Iris, I should have thought that that would matter to you. Of course it does. What else?”

I bite my lip. “I’d have wanted…at least one picture of it. And I’d have wanted to know earlier,” I say quietly. “So I could…I don’t know, plan more. I don’t mind making the dinner – I think it’s kind of fun actually. But, like…” I sigh, and look around the kitchen at all the amazing food I’m preparing. “I could have at least bought some cake mix, Christian, we don’t have any wedding cake – just ice cream novelties, which are not the same.”

He laughs openly at this and then murmurs his very sincere apology, stroking his thumb across my cheekbone and telling me that I’m right. “You deserve a wedding photo and a cake, Iris. I’m very sorry about those. What else?”

My smile falls from my face then. Because we’re getting to the real thing.

And as he sees it, his smile falls too.

Christian pulls me closer, urging me on with a little lift of his chin.

“Damon,” I whisper, quite serious, staring up into my husband’s face. “I would have wanted Damon to be here. And he would have wanted to be here too, Christian. You know that would have been important to him, even if he had no idea how we got here.”

Christian’s face falls completely as he realizes the utter truth of this – that my brother, his childhood best friend, absolutely should have been here for this. And that he failed me, just a little bit, by taking that possibility away from me.

My husband groans, and pulls me close, and tucks his head down against my shoulder as I hug him tighter to me. “I am so, so sorry, Iris,” he whispers, his voice shaking a bit with his sincerity. “I am…a complete idiot. I didn’t even think about Damon – which is so cold, and so selfish of me.”

“It’s okay, Christian!” I whisper back, meaning it as I press my eyes shut, holding him close. “It’s not that big of a deal –“

“It is,” he growls, though I know his anger is all for himself. He lifts his head, looking down into my eyes. “I can’t believe I did that.”

But I just shake my head, forgiving him already, knowing that the timing and the circumstances – it would have made it impossible for Damon to be there. And honestly, that given my choices? I’d still do it all again – every minute of it.

“It’s fine,” I whisper, raising a hand to his cheek.

Christian leans into my palm a bit, closing his own eyes briefly and shaking his head. “You’re too good, little wife. I have to remember that.”

I frown a little, not knowing what he means. But there’s not much time to think on it.

Christian opens his eyes, looking steadily down into mine. “I’ll make this up to you, all right?” he asks, his voice insistent. “As soon as all of this settles, we’ll do it again – any wedding you want. A great dress, your brother there, a big cake. Anything you can dream of.”

I break into a huge grin, loving the idea. “Anything? That’s a big blank cheque to write, Christian. You sure you don’t want to put any stipulations on that?”

“No,” he murmurs with a smirk. “I got everything I wanted out of this wedding today – you get yours. But also…wait, why? What are you thinking?”

My grin broadens. “Oh, nothing,” I say, leaning my weight against him, my voice playful and singsong. “Just…a huge cake, eight tiers high. With pink icing.”

“Pink!?” he bursts out laughing, but I can tell that he loves it.

“Baby pink,” I say softly, smiling up at him. “Like a peony.”

“You’ll have it,” he murmurs, pressing a hasty kiss to my mouth. “And then a honeymoon – maybe in Paris.”

I squeal a little in delight at the prospect, letting my husband wrap me up tight for a moment. But then I gasp and shove him away.

“What?” he asks, frowning and looking around, worried. “No Paris?”

“No, Paris is great!” I shout. “But the lobsters are going to be overcooked!”

And then I dash for my lobster pot, biting my lip, praying that my momentary distraction didn’t end in disaster.

Our celebration went long into the night, with everyone laughing and drinking, eating the delicious food I made and digging into the ice cream novelties that I’d had no idea, when I bought them, would take the place of my wedding cake. But overall, it was a night full of joy and happiness and laughter – a very nearly perfect follow up to my surprise wedding.

As I wake up the next morning, I snuggle myself closer to Christian’s side, quietly grateful that I don’t have a headache. I peek up at Christian’s beautiful face, though, and smirk, wondering if the same is true for him. He, Nico, Tony, and Frankie got very far into his whiskey stash last night, and I doubt he’s feeling as fresh as I am.

Still, hungover or not, I smile as I take in the beautiful sight of him. My husband – my husband now, as well as my best friend. God, I can’t believe my luck.

Almost as if he can feel me awake beside him, Christian takes a deep breath and then pulls me closer, groaning a little as he tilts his head back on his pillow. I grin, allowing my hand to slowly stroke up and down his shirtless back, reveling in the beauty and the strength of him.

“It’s not morning,” he mutters, pressing his eyes determinedly shut, even though he hasn’t opened them yet. “The sun is lying.”

“Sun doesn’t lie,” I murmur, pressing a kiss to his chest. “What, you don’t want to face your first full day married to me?”

Christian frowns and turns his head to me, peeking out from between his lashes. “Don’t be ridiculous,” he mutters, tightening his arms and turning with me in them so that I screech in surprise, laughing as he pulls me on top of him. I grin, settling my hands on his chest and placing my chin on top of them, smiling when I feel my wedding ring against my chin.

“Well then what,” I say with a happy sigh, still staring at him, taking my time with it. I can do that now, after all. We’re married. I don’t have to sneak glances anymore.

“I just like this part,” he murmurs, still sleepy, letting his hand drift up and down the length of my spine. “Quiet. With you. Rest of the world doesn’t exist yet.”

“Rest of the world’s not so bad,” I murmur.

He grumbles, low in his chest, like that’s not at all true. And I smile at him.

Christian takes a deep breath and then opens his eyes fully, moving his hand to stroke over my long blonde hair as he focuses on me. “Did you grow up to be this pretty on purpose?” he murmurs. “Or was it just by chance?”

“I did a couple spells,” I whisper, giving a casual shrug like it was no big deal.

“Ensorcelled me,” he murmurs, nodding like it makes sense.

I just laugh, but he takes another deep breath, turning his head away. And I bite my lip because…well, this isn’t very honeymoon behavior, is it? We…refrained, last night, from any honeymoon activities, very aware of the thin walls of our little beach house and the fact that the only bathroom for all six of us is only accessible through this bedroom. But still, we’d been very happy, and cuddly, and cheerful.

This, though? The sighing, and the turning away?

“What’s up, Chris?” I murmur, tapping my fingers on his chest. “What’s wrong?”

He turns his face back to me and again strokes my hair. “Nothing to worry about, Iris,” he says quite seriously, wanting me to feel calm. “Just a busy day.”

“Really?” I ask, sitting up halfway with a frown.

Because…I was aware that we had any plans at all.

What on earth does he have brewing?