* * *
I’m standingwith my father, our arms linked, clutching my bouquet in my right hand. It consists of deep red roses and tumbling ivy, matching the arbor where we’re to be married, which is laden with red roses, ivy woven throughout. The weather is cool and crisp, the sun shining above. A perfect fall day.
A perfect day to marry the man I love.
“I’m so happy for you today,” my father says, resting his hand over where mine rests on his arm. “You’re gorgeous in that dress.”
“Thank you.” I smile at him.
“Your mother wouldn’t approve.” He can’t help but laugh, and my smile doesn’t falter. “I probably shouldn’t say that.”
“No, it’s fine. And you’re right, she wouldn’t approve. She would hate this.” My smile grows.
“It’s why you chose it, then?” He lifts his brows.
“She had nothing to do with it. I saw a photo years ago and was inspired,” I explain. But maybe she did have something to do with it. One last bit of rebellion on my part.
Maybe I’ll always be rebellious. It could be the Lancaster in me, or this is just…me.
The middle child. The wild one. The one who always needs attention.
“All right, places everyone!” Miranda, the wedding planner, is like a dictator, clapping her hands at us, getting everyone in the wedding party lined up. Spencer is already standing in place with his best man—Whit—and the groomsmen. “The ceremony is about to start!”
As the eldest Lancaster cousin, Grant is participating in the ceremony by escorting Spencer’s mother to her seat. Cliff walks down the aisle first, Monty following close after him. Then it’s Summer, beautiful and voluptuous, her curves more pronounced since having Iris.
Carolina is next, gliding down the aisle as if her feet never touch the ground. She’s moves so effortlessly, so gracefully. Must be the dancer in her.
The children are the last to walk before the bride. Augie clutches his sister’s hand as she toddles down the aisle, wearing a red dress that’s similar to mine, a ring of red roses sitting atop her head. Downy whisps of blonde hair curl about her face, and when she spots her grandma sitting in the crowd, she becomes completely distracted.
Summer passes her bouquet to Carolina before she comes rushing forward, picking up Iris and handing her off to her mother before she takes Augie’s hand and leads him to the altar. He stands in front of his father, adorable in his matching morning suit, though he’s not wearing a top hat either.
Typical Lancaster child, doing what he wants.
Finally, the music changes, and my father and I step forward in unison. “At Last” by Etta James begins to play, and once the intro is finished and Etta starts singing, we begin our descent down the aisle.
The red veil floats behind me, nearly as long as the train of my gown, and the roses and ivy sitting atop my head are heavy. I smile at everyone as we slowly walk toward the altar, my gaze locking on the group of people we invited. Our wedding is small. Intimate. Not nearly as big as Whit and Summer’s, which is fine with me. We only wanted our closest friends and family to celebrate this day with us.
Every step forward takes me to my almost-husband. I finally look at him when the lyrics say, “A dream I can call my own,” our gazes locking, and tears immediately spring to my eyes because it’s true.
He is my dream. The boy I crushed on. The boy I imagined being with and teased and taunted and tortured. The man I’ve always, without a doubt, loved with my entire heart.
The song fades when we stop in front of Spencer, and when he smiles at me, all of the earlier nerves and worry and anxiousness float away. As if it never existed.
“Who gives this woman to be married to this man?” the minister asks.
“I do,” my father says, squeezing my arm before he lets go of me…
And Spencer takes my hand.
A wedding ceremony is symbolic of so many things that I never noticed before. The passing of me from my father to my husband. The ones we love who are standing up for us, my niece and nephew playing a part too. The words the minister says, binding us together for all eternity, and the way Spencer looks at me, as if I’m the most beautiful woman in the entire world.
I let the tears flow, though there aren’t many. And they’re all tears of happiness, because why else would I cry when marrying this man? He is my love. My future. My entire world.
“…I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride,” the minister finally says, after we’ve repeated our vows to each other.
Spencer settles his hands on my waist, pulling me gently toward him and pressing his mouth to mine. The kiss is soft and sweet, with the faintest tease of his tongue, and when he pulls away, everyone begins to applaud.
“Introducing Mr. and Mrs. Spencer and Sylvie Donato!”