— Bonus —
The Day of Their Wedding

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M A R I E L L A

"No, you idiot—no, you've got to fold it over—no, no, the other way—"

Arguing with Chains in the middle of our suite, Jasper put on a mighty frown as he tugged on one end of the biker's disheveled bowtie. Dressed in pristine suits, they'd been wrestling over it for the last ten minutes and were still nowhere closer to having it look presentable—mostly because Chains was allergic to simple, step-by-step instructions.

"What other way is there?" he snapped. Fashioning the black ribbon into something less than orderly, he sucked on the back of his teeth. "This is too complicated."

Jasper pulled the tie off him. "It's incredibly straightforward."

Circling their feet with enthusiastic tail-wags, Nero's muted barks made sure she was involved in the conversation.

Noah ignored them. Standing next to me on the other side of the room, he adjusted his silver wristwatch while I fixed up my pearly earrings. I couldn't help but notice the fidgeting in his right hand, constant and restless. He may have been the toughest of us, but right now my firstborn son was a mountain of nervous energy—and he was hiding it poorly.

What a wonderful thing to be this excited for a wedding day.

With a chin stuck reluctantly in the air, Chains groaned impatiently as Jasper tried folding the bowtie for him. Pulling tight, he got about halfway through before the biker complained again.

"Honestly, I'm usually all for being choked, but this is just straight-up silly." He smacked Jasper's fingers away with a pout. "Unhand me, fool."

Frustrated, the middle child folded his arms. "We're getting nowhere with this."

"No shit. Who's still wearing bowties nowadays, anyway?" Checking himself out in the standing floor mirror, he muttered, "It's not like I'm the one getting hitched here."

"You're the best man," Jasper grumbled, "so—"

"Really? I'm flattered you agree."

"—so you're kind of obligated to look at least a little presentable in all the photos." With an eye roll, he inquired, "And aren't you, like, twenty-something years old? How do you make it this far in life without figuring out how to fold a bowtie?"

"Too busy perfecting the fine art of unhooking women's lingerie." Ruffling my son's gelled-up hair, the Stray Dog smirked and said, "You should try it sometime, pipsqueak."

Noah exhaled audibly at that.

"Chains," I said after a long sigh, "can you at least try to act like a gentleman today? Please?"

He grinned wide. "You're absolutely right." Bowing down with a hand on his chest, Chains winked at me and alleged, "Sincerest apologies, m'lady."

I waved him off in a disappointed lour.

"Chains," came Adrian's voice from the sofa. "Don't flirt with my woman."

"Yes, sir."

Setting aside the sudden glow in my chest, I passed my husband a look, then turned to Noah. Dragging a black tie under his collar, he bit the corners of his lips in thought, and on occasion his tongue stud would peek out in its silvery shine.

He was just shy of twenty-nine now. A healthy, strong man who'd come into his own, and a caring man, one in his enviable prime. He carried himself with an ease that felt both familiar and quietly powerful. Standing there, framed by the delicate midday light, he looked every bit the person I'd always hoped he'd grow up to be. The lines of his spotless suit settled over with a natural grace that reminded me how quickly time had passed—how my once-little boy was now someone's husband.

Today, his smile had a vulnerable edge, tempered by the unmistakable spark in his eyes. It was the same look he'd had as a child on the brink of something new and exciting—he'd always been a fearless little warrior, always charging forward, always a brave young spirit. This new lifelong adventure was right up his alley.

"You don't look the slightest bit nervous," I said teasingly, reaching up to assist with his bowtie.

He avoided my eyes. "Am I sweating?"

"No, but I can ask someone to turn down the thermostat, if that'd make you feel better."

Noah chuckled at that.

Grasping the smooth silk of his bowtie, I began to adjust it in careful and methodical touches.  "Hold still," I murmured, trying not to let my hands tremble. There was something oddly ceremonial about this small gesture, though I didn't think I could address it without bursting into tears.

He stood quietly, watching me with a bashful half-smile, one of his hands loosely holding the edge of his jacket. It was charcoal colored, almost black, and fit his physique perfectly. Its tailored edges highlighted his shoulders and the subtle strength he carried there—so different from the narrow, boyish frame I used to drape my arm around when he was still so terrified of thunderstorms.

The rest was embellished by small details only a mother would notice—like the tiny wrinkle on his right sleeve, and the barely-there speck of cologne on his collar. His shirt underneath was crisp and white, his chain and cufflinks an expensive silver, both of which complimented the sun-kissed tan of his glowing complexion. The boy undoubtedly had my genes to thank for his handsomeness, if nothing else.

Just as I was finalising the last little details of his tie, he took me by the hands and spoke in low tones.

"It means a lot that you're here, Ma."

Caught off guard by his tenderness, I found myself brushing down the curves of his face. "Come on," I muttered. "What on earth are you saying, dear? I wouldn't have missed this for anything."

My fingers paused on his cheekbones—I wondered if he knew. I wondered if he realised just how much of his father's spirit lived on within him. How his priceless smile could conjure memories as beautiful as they were shattering. He reminded me so much of my Cillian on the day we were married—with that same dark hair of his and those hauntingly amber eyes.

"You thought of something," said Noah, his attentive gaze seeing through me effortlessly. "What did you remember?"

"Your father," I admitted in a breath.

He nodded. "The day you got married, right?"

Feeling my chin tremble, I inhaled deeply. "He looked... so much like you do right now. Maybe a little more rugged, a little less anxious, about the same amount of handsome, and just... a tad out of place." Manufacturing a smile, I said in a bittersweet laugh, "Honestly, you bikers—you all act like a suit and tie is the end of the world."

Noah had been getting better at talking to people about his father in recent years—of course, there were horrors in his mind that I didn't think he'd ever be able to share, but the fact that we could even say Cillian's name was progress enough. It mattered.

"You miss him," he said astutely.

"Yes, well..." Brushing his hair back, I told him, "I'm reminded of his light with you every day. He'd have been incredibly proud of how far you've come—remember that when we're walking down the aisle."

A gentle laugh escaped him. He ran a hand over his stiff collar, tugging at its black fabric. "Chains is right. The bowtie is stupid."

"No, don't—"

Despite my half-hearted complaints, he undid the bowtie with practiced ease and popped open two of his shirt buttons. Seemingly a lot more himself with that act of rebellion, the imperfect details exposed his prominent collarbones and allowed him room to breathe.

"How does that look?" he asked with a hint of pride.

Looking at him for a long moment, my heart filled with the echoes of Cillian's memory. Standing in front of me now, Noah looked ready to carry that love forward—to share it with someone else.

With a tender sentiment, I exhaled, defeated.

"Perfect."

After a few more moments, I turned to the rest of the room. It was a much different picture. For starters, Chains's tie was now wrinkled and lopsided. Adrian wasn't even wearing one. The wreath of tiny flowers around Nero's neck was half-chewed, and Jasper, somehow, was the only person whose bowtie looked even remotely presentable.

They turned to me with embarrassed looks. I cupped my forehead in disbelief.

"Guys!" called a voice in the midst of my internal debate. It was Nadia, standing out in the hall. "I'm coming in!"

She burst through our door in a flurry of jade-coloured fabric, messy ringlets of hair blinding her face and making her stumble.

"What's the matter?" asked Noah.

"Uh—" she took a second to steady herself— "he told me not to bother everyone about it but I'm really worried, it's just that Elliot's gone full waterworks, and—"

Noah moved immediately.

"Waterworks?" he said. "He's crying?"

When Nadia nodded in reply, my eldest son was already halfway out the door.

"Excuse me!" I called out as he swept past. Watching the rest of the room follow him out in single-file, I demanded in a panic, "Where do you think you're going?!"

Oh, no.

"Wait!"

I hurried after them, three-inch heels clicking sharply against the floor as I struggled to keep up with their long strides. My heart pounded as I followed them down the hall; my mind raced wildly. This was bad luck, terrible luck, a sure sign of impending doom if they saw each other now.

Why am I the only one here with common sense?

"You two can't see each other before the ceremony!" Managing to catch up, I whizzed past them on my heels and tried to block Elliot's door. "It's bad luck! You just can't!"

Chains skidded to a stop. Jasper nearly tripped over Nero. Nadia probably broke a heel. But despite their supportive rush, Noah restrained himself enough to see reason. Good. I knew him well enough to see that he wouldn't back down easily when it came to Elliot.

After a deep inhale, my son directed his attention to the barrier.

"Alley Cat," he spoke up, "are you okay?"

A pause.

"I—I'm fine! Everything's fine!" Calling out from the other side of the door, it became increasingly clear that Elliot was anything but okay. "Really, it's nothing. You don't need to worry about me, I'm okay."

"Nadia said you were upset."

Elliot stammered, "I-I'm not upset. Not crying." Obviously choked up, his voice was garbled by many weighted emotions. "Everything's fine."

"Well," I remarked under my breath, "thank goodness he's not marrying you for your ability to lie."

Staying silent, my eldest tensed his shoulders.

"It's nothing," Elliot's voice chimed again. He took a moment to gather himself. "I'm just... I don't know. I'm so sorry."

"Sorry?" Noah breathed.

Turning to the group, Jasper asked, "Sorry as in like, he took an early bite out of the wedding cake, or sorry as in we're all about to get ditched at the altar?"

"We?" Adrian frowned at him. "Since when was this marriage a team event?"

"Are you kidding?" Swiveling his head, Chains hissed back, "Do you have any idea how much elbow grease, how much holy Catholic hand-holding, how many late-night pep talks it took to get these losers together? One's all sad, pitiful eyes, and the other's just bad piercings and hair." Scoffing, he pressed his ear right up to the door and remarked, "Seriously, I've seen more game at a nursing home. Waiting for them to get their shit together nearly put me in one."

My husband rolled his eyes at that.

Shaking her head in distress, Nadia whispered to us in quick syllables, "They can't call this wedding off! I worked so hard on my speech! Seriously, twenty bucks says it'll bring all of you babies to tears."

"From what?" Jasper taunted. "Boredom?"

That earned him a sharp glare.

"Hey, don't be sorry, champ!" Smacking the door in a show of support, Chains said loudly, "You're really taking one for the team today, okay? You just focus on marrying him and marrying him fa—"

Noah barked them into silence. "Would you three idiots just shut up!"

"Okay, okay." Planting a hand on his hip, Chains muttered with an attitude, "Sheesh. Don't get your jockstrap in a twist, loverbo—yowch!"

His cockiness vanished the second Noah pinched the underside of his once-wounded thigh.

I stifled a small laugh.

Once the small mob behind him settled, my eldest son rapped his tattooed fingers twice against the door.

"Elliot?" he called softly.

"Yes," came a raspy voice. "Yes, I'm here."

"You're... not having second thoughts, are you?"

Elliot's voice sounded with alarm. "What? No! Not at all, why would you think that?"

With a low exhale, Noah sank slightly against the threshold.

"I'm just worried you might not be ready for this," he confessed. Forehead hitting the ivory barrier, he quietly implored, "Talk to me, Darling."

The six of us waited in perfect stillness and with bated breaths for his lover's response.

"Everything is..." Sucking in sharply, my future son-in-law took a break from his sniffles. "It's a lot. I'm exhilarated, and I'm nervous, and I don't have any family here and my stomach hurts for some reason and I'm really... god, it's impossible to breathe in this thing." Voice fading in and out of range, he said, "Seriously, why did I pick this outfit? It probably looks ridiculous; I can't even reach the—oh, this is so humiliating. I'm sorry, I don't even know why I'm crying right now. Why am I like this? I'm so sorry."

"You're overwhelmed," Noah realized, reading between the lines.

"It's pathetic. I feel really pathetic." A dull thud was heard as Elliot neared the threshold and choked down an empty sob. "We're getting married today, and I should have my shit together, and a family here, a dad walking me down the aisle maybe, or my mom to tell me everything's okay, and... and I don't know what's wrong with me right now."

In a way, I understood him. Much like Elliot, my own parents hadn't been there to attend my first wedding.

They hadn't approved of Cillian in the slightest. He'd been a poor man, from a poor family, with a criminal record and no social standing. In the eyes of my distinguished parents, he'd had nothing to offer. They'd deemed him unfit for my hand—and we'd been strangers since the day I'd agreed to marry him.

I would do it all over again. In a heartbeat.

Loving him had been the easiest choice I'd ever made.

Noah looked up at me for a passing moment. His marigold eyes looked so utterly lost—desperate for solutions that I didn't have.

Agh, that boy.

Those shimmering eyes of his could melt the coldest of hearts. In the days when he was young, that softness had let him get away with everything—an extra sweet before dinner, mud trodden through the halls, and his relentless coaxing for more bedtime stories after I'd already promised, Just one more. He'd turned to his mother for everything. Every question, every looming fear, every little scrape on his knees and elbows.

He'd always been that innocent little boy. And whether he knew it or not, that innocence was still deeply entrenched within his heart. Even now, as I watched his small golden eyes quiver with worry, all I wanted to do was gather him close and swear to that little boy that everything would be okay—that the rest of the world would be kind.

I'm sorry, treasure, I wanted to tell him. I wish I had all the answers you need.

A muted Elliot cleared his throat.

"Sorry," he muttered again. I could hear the frustrations lingering in his voice. "It's nothing. I just feel really stupid saying all this to a closed door."

A moment of pause followed as Noah straightened on his feet. Furrowed brows pressed together, his lips pouted in thought, and a disobedient lock of mahogany-colored hair tumbled into his face—he dragged it back in one decisive gesture.

"Shut your eyes," he announced. "I'm coming in."

"What?!" Stomach dropping as he reached for the handle, I hurried to stop the lunatic before his golden eyes jinxed us all. "No, you can't—wait! Wait, just wait!"

Stepping between him and the door, I forced across an adamant huff. Noah tapped his foot impatiently.

"I'll go in first," was my final offer.

Conceding, my son waved me off. I brushed down my swaying dress and plastered on a smile, pulling the door open and slipping behind it in a blink.

"Is everything okay?" asked Emma as I walked in. With a flower basket tucked behind her feet, she was sitting on a velvet sofa to the side of the room. Her chestnut hair fell in delicate ringlets, draping over a snowy dress secured with pearly buttons and meadow-green ribbons. The sight of her radiant face flooded my chest with warmth.

"You look wonderful, Emma," I whispered, before my attention turned to Elliot. "You both do."

Smearing moisture from his eyelids, he shook out his hands and exhaled through puffed-out cheeks.

In the middle of the prep suite, Elliot was the very picture of ethereal elegance. My breathing faltered at the sight of him.

His head had been crowned with a wreath of tiny laurels—Emma's idea—and caramel-brown tresses of hair skimmed past the edges of his neck. With flowing sleeves of white cascading past his elbows, his shirt was a precious cut of ivory cloth, draping his body in a crisp and timeless silhouette. Its collar dipped ever-so-slightly in an asymmetrical fashion and hinted intimately at his collarbones.

From there, the sides of his waist were cinched, and a pair of black suit pants helped to accentuate his height and poise. Meanwhile, his hazel irises were vibrant with life. His cheeks were strong and rosy and practically luminous. Lips a delicate red, they were just as soft as his feathery eyelashes. He seemed like the kind of beauty that history's sculptors would spend lifetimes trying to carve up in marble—and fail to emulate, every single time.

If just one look at him had my heart racing like this, I could only imagine that he'd render my son an utterly incomprehensible fool.

"Okay," I told him, "turn around."

Obeying my instructions, Elliot pivoted with cautious grace, until his back was turned to me.

I undid my scarf.

Stepping closer, I carefully bundled the fabric into a long ribbon and swept it over to his side. Settling it around his eyes like a makeshift blindfold, it took only a moment to tie it there securely. I brushed his shoulders off when I was done.

"Now you can enter," I called to the small mob huddled outside the door. "Everyone, make sure to keep his eyes closed, you hear me?" As Noah shuffled in with his face buried under a horde of hands, I said, "We worked too damn hard on this wedding and I will not have it ruined by a thunderstorm just because these two lovesick fools couldn't keep their peepers to themse—awww."

My words trailed off as Noah collided with Elliot at the center of the room. They were swept up in each other's arms—as though they'd planned the entire wedding just for this moment alone.

The rest of the party was right behind them. Chains, Nadia, Jasper, and Adrian were a mess of figures circling Noah, their hands all scrambling to cover his view. Each of them pushed and tugged, their laughter mingling with shouts of playful protest as they fought to ensure he wouldn't catch a glimpse of his groom before the big moment. Nero circled the group with excited barks and kept her presence known.

At their collective efforts, my heart squeezed.

This is good, I thought. They should have this.

Noah didn't seem so stiff anymore. He held on tight and let his shoulders ease. With dry sniffles, Elliot was hugging him underneath the arms, his blindfolded face hidden in the comfort of a warm chest.

"Did you just do up my zipper?" came a murmur I nearly missed.

My son's low chuckle permeated. "You said you couldn't reach it."

"Thank you."

"Can I kiss my everything now," he asked in a hopeful tone, "or do I have to wait for him to say the line?"

Elliot chuckled softly. "I think you might have to wait for him to say it."

"Fuck's sake." With a smooth caress to his partner's neck, Noah remarked, "Still can't believe we're letting Chains be the one to officiate this wedding."

"I can't even believe he volunteered."

The current leader of the Stray Dogs coughed.

Teasing him, Elliot's glowing cheeks creased with joy. "He's standing right behind you, isn't he?"

"Literally manhandling his face right now, yeah." Chains fluttered his grip for emphasis.

"His fingers are suspiciously greasy," said Noah.

Pulling a face, the best man was spectacularly offended. "It's hand cream, and you're about two inches away from gagging on them, so you better watch your m—"

"Why on earth would you use hand cream?" my Adrian wondered aloud.

Chains put forward a smug grin. "Stole it from your wife, actually." He sniffed his tattooed wrist. "Smells nice. Like strawberries."

"Strawberries?"

Turning a raised brow in my direction, a thick moment of silence hung in the air as the seams of Adrian's perfect lips quirked into a smile. A flurry of hot embarrassment rushed into my face.

"Oh," he said, turning to Chains with a laugh that rang through the room, "you idiot."

A blink. "Come again?"

With a wide grin, my husband shot back, "That wasn't hand cream."

It took a second for the realization to hit.

"Eugh!" Yanking his fingers away, almost like they'd caught fire, the biker's face twisted in horror. "What the hell!"

Nadia followed suit. "Ew, ew, ew—"

"Mooom!" Shuddering all over, a disgusted Jasper darted away from the group, vigorously flailing his hands. "You old people are so gross!"

Nobody was covering Noah's face anymore.

In the commotion, Chains and Nadia frantically wiped their hands on anything within reach, and Nero wagged her tail excitedly, thinking their panic was a new game. Noah, meanwhile, was already blinking open his eyes.

"No!" Hurrying over with many desperate complaints, I told them, "You were supposed to keep his eyes cov—" But it was too late. His charming golds only had one person in focus. "Damn it."

Apparently, that was Elliot's cue.

Slowly, he reached up and slipped his blindfold off with gentle fingers. He blinked twice, adjusting his gaze to the world around him, and in that breath, his entire demeanor transformed. It was that simple. Nothing else mattered.

None of us spoke.

My throat tightened as Noah took in the sight. The childlike wonder that filled his gaze was unmistakable—a precious glimmer, something pure and boundless. It looked as though he'd waited across many weary lifetimes just to see Elliot in this frame.

"Divine," he whispered, almost reverently.

Elliot's lips blossomed into a grin, and he tilted his head slightly, his gaze settling on Noah's wrists.

"Your cufflinks," he murmured.

Noah glanced down, a bit taken aback, and noticed what Elliot had seen: his cufflinks, in the rush of the moment, had come slightly undone. A faint tint warmed his ears. Before he could move to fix them, Elliot stepped forward, reaching out with that same gentle touch, fingers skimming up Noah's arms with care.

In this weightless air, it was just the two of them. Elliot's focus was steady and attentive. He fastened each cufflink with the tenderness of a kiss. Then, once finished, he let his fingers linger for a brief moment longer, and his gaze lifted to Noah's with a smile that spoke a thousand words. I was already hearing wedding bells.

If there were two people on this earth destined for each other, it was them. Their hearts were of the same stardust—forever meant to be.

Why are we making it so complicated?

"You don't need me to walk you down there," I breathed.

Elliot and Noah looked up in sync, as though it'd just dawned on them that they weren't alone.

"What?" asked my eldest. "What do you mean?"

"The aisle." Clicking at the dog whose nose was butting away at my ankles, I explained, "You two should be walking down that carpet together. It's a little unconventional, but... why not?"

They exchanged glances.

"You have family here to walk with you," I clarified, "but Elliot doesn't. It doesn't seem fair that he would have to walk alone on his wedding day. And if you're going to be spending the rest of your lives experiencing things together, then... why not start now?"

Life is too precious to waste a second.

With uncertainty flickering on his face like old film tape, Elliot gripped tightly on Noah's arm. His teary eyes searched mine.

"Maria, are you sure?" Dripping with tones of hesitation, he suggested, "He's your son, you deserve to be able to—"

I cut him off, placing my hands over theirs. The touch grounded me as much as it did them. "I'm sure," I replied, lips pointing into a smile as I gently placed their hands together, entwining their fingers with a finality that just felt... right. "This wedding isn't about me."

It's about love, I told myself. Love above all.

Noah kissed his beloved's palm. Like the crackling of a fireplace, his eyes shimmered with warmth.

"Let's do it," he said with a chuckle.

At those words, Elliot's smile brightened until it glowed. His tensions evaporated—gone, like a breath in the wind.

A throat cleared.

"Uh..." Catching everyone's attention, Nadia was standing off to the side, still dabbing at her fingers with a handkerchief. "Not to totally ruin the moment or anything, but there's like a hundred people waiting out there and you guys were meant to be reciting your vows like ten minutes ago, so if we could maybe keep this wedding train going..."

Like a jolt to the system, everyone was spurred to action.

Chains pushed the couple onward with a laugh. "Move it, lovebirds!"

"Thank god," Jasper muttered, but I knew it was just an attempt to hide how moved he'd been by the moment. He whistled for Nero to follow and proudly led the party out. "Let's go."

"Hey, wait for me!" Scurrying after them, Emma's voice rang full of sheer determination. "I'm the flower girl, I go first!"

Flower petals trickled out of her basket as the door shut behind them. Laughter was a rich symphony in the hallway—and while I stayed back, I felt my heart swell. I'd never thought I'd be around to see this day. I never thought I'd ever be blessed enough to see the very future I'd prayed so hard for—a life of happiness for my family, Elliot included, finally close within reach. It was more valuable to me than anything.

All these years. All these struggles. All these stresses and sacrifices and heartaches. At this moment, those knives weren't so sharp in my heart anymore. For once, there was no pain. No noise. No ghosts or sorrow or fear of any kind. The demons were long gone.

For the first time in my life, I finally knew peace.

A hand brushed against my shoulder. Inhaling sharply, I swallowed down my choked-up feelings and turned to face my adoring husband.

He was smirking. Like a mischievous dog.

"Don't give me that look," I said with a huff, hands resting on slanted hips. If he'd thought I'd forgotten about his little stunt earlier, he was sorely mistaken.

"What look?" he asked.

"Oh, you know very well what—"

I didn't get to finish my sentence, abruptly swept up in the embrace of Adrian's firm arms. He had a tender grasp on the back of my neck, and I felt the smile on his lips as he kissed me with all the passion of a young newlywed. It made every last one of my butterflies flutter.

His faint scent of rich cocoa weakened me in an instant—and like a marshmallow, I lost shape, melting away every hint of rigidity. It wasn't a fair fight, really. He knew I was defenseless without the bite of my words; the man was too sweet for me to resist. I sighed into him with a grasp on his collar.

When we finally pulled apart, his spellbinding eyes were twinkling with amusement.

"This dress is beautiful on you," he uttered fondly, brushing a stray hair from my face.

"Imagine how much nicer it'll look on the floor tonight." I tapped his cheek, leaning in just enough to see his yearning flicker. "Save this energy for later. I have to go watch my son get married."

"Of course," he said with a slight chuckle. "Always right behind you, my Maria."

Hand in hand, we left the room, his steady presence always just a step behind—a promise to me, one that meant I'd never have to be alone again.

This love is what I live for.