“Trinity wants to get some pictures,” she says.
Rock is surprisingly patient with the mini-photo shoot.
Hope hurries out of the room and Trinity follows her, running ahead to grab photos of us coming down the stairs.
Outside, I’m grateful for the cool air that coasts over my skin. Big, fluffy white clouds float against a perfectly blue sky. The long sweeping branches and lush leaves of the huge weeping willow tree at the back of the property have been shaped into a canopy. Clusters of sunflowers and red roses designate the arch where we’ll exchange our vows. Once the sun goes down, the entire back yard will be lit with thousands of tiny yellow lights, strung through the trees and swaths of gauzy white fabric Marcel had painstakingly woven through the trees over the last couple of days.
It’s beautiful.
Neat rows of simple white folding chairs had been set up for our guests. But everyone stands and faces us as we approach. My gaze pings through the crowd, landing on members from our downstate New York, Everhart Virginia, and Deadbranch Tennessee charters. My steps falter as I recognize the National president and his wife. No good comes from Priest visiting New York. Rock squeezes my arm and keeps us moving. More familiar faces. Members of the Devil Demons MC from Western New York. The president’s wife, Mallory, flashes a big smile as we pass her. The members who will form a support club for the Lost Kings take up one row to themselves. Remy nods at me as we pass. His little sister, Molly, wiggles her fingers at me and I can’t help smiling back. Hope and her friend Mara are seated up front. Lilly and Z sit next to an empty chair on Hope’s left. Shelby and Rooster sit in the space directly behind them. Shelby ended up with Grace sitting on her lap, while Lilly’s cradling baby Bit-bit in her arms. Wrath warned me earlier that the tiny chairs “wouldn’t hold his big ass” so he’s standing at the end of the first row, looking very much like a bouncer at an exclusive nightclub with his arms folded over his chest and his serious gaze sweeping over our guests. He catches my eye and nods, one corner of his mouth turning up. Grinder’s standing in a similar position opposite from Wrath. Is his excuse related to comfort? Or were the two enforcers concerned about having a mix of bikers and civilians in one place?
My uncle gives me a tight nod and smile. He hadn’t expressed an opinion on Rock’s role in the wedding, but his thoughts are written in his scowl. My earlier conversation with Carter left me feeling a bit raw and forgiving toward Uncle Chuck. I reach out as we pass him and squeeze his hand.
“I’m happy you made it,” I whisper.
His scowl softens. “You look beautiful, Char.”
Mercy and Heidi beam at us as we approach.
Blake holds out his fist and whispers “ginger power” to me. A giggle escapes my lips as I tap my knuckles against his. My gaze lands on Carter, proudly standing next to Marcel wearing his cut.
If someone had told me five years ago that Judge Damon Oak would officiate my wedding, I would’ve thought they were nuts. He smiles when Rock and I stop in front of him. Rock kisses my cheek and stops to hug Marcel, before taking his seat next to Hope.
Finally, my nervous eyes land on Marcel and my breath catches. He steps forward and reaches for my hands.
“You’re beautiful.” His gaze roams over my face, then dips down to my dress. His mouth quirks as he leans in. “Can’t even tell,” he whispers.
The skirt of my long white dress falls over my growing baby bump, providing adequate camouflage. It still feels two sizes too small. “Thank you. Makes the corset I’m stuffed into worth all the struggle.” I side-eye him. “Also, you’re full of shit. Shelby could barely get the back of this dress laced up.”
Amusement sparks in his teal eyes.
“You…” I sweep my gaze over his sharply tailored suit that fits every inch of him to perfection. “Take my breath away.”
He curls his fingers around mine and turns us to face Damon.
Damon’s lips quirk, as if he’d heard our brief exchange, and my skin flushes. Thank goodness for all the makeup Serena spackled on me. Hopefully, it’s hiding that my cheeks now match the roses.
“Welcome, everyone,” Damon begins. “I’m honored to be here to celebrate the union of Charlotte and Marcel.”
There’s a rustling behind us as those who had been standing take their seats.
“Love isn’t always perfect,” Damon continues without the aid of any notes. “Love is difficult to find and impossible to live without. There are no fairy tales in life, only harsh reality. Love doesn’t always come easy. When you find love, treasure it, protect it with your entire being. You no longer have to face life’s hardships alone. Hold on to each other and don’t let go. Above all, remember every moment is worth it because you survived together.”
It’s almost as if someone gave Damon a CliffsNotes version of our lives.
TELLER
Charlotte’s glowing. More beautiful than I have a right to spend my life with. The love I have for her and our children that she’s carrying already burns in my chest hotter than the sun.
Damon’s words sound nice. Charlotte seems pleased. I’m too focused on her for anything else to penetrate.
Damon clears his throat and I tear my gaze away from Charlotte. Are we done? Can I kiss my bride now?
“Do you, Marcel John North, take Charlotte Corinne Clark as your wife? Do you promise to love, comfort, honor, and protect her, in sickness and health, be faithful to her as long as you both shall live?”
“I do.”
“Charlotte, do you take Marcel as your husband?” Damon turns her way. “Do you promise to love, comfort, honor, and protect him, in sickness and health, to be faithful as long as you both shall live?”