“I thank you for your devotion but you were far more than an assistant. You were my rock, my lion.” She takes a playful bite out of my ear. “Let me hear you roar one more time.”
“Who am I to deny the queen?”
30
Wesley
September 1st
Rockaway.
It’s my brother’s special place. He’s the one that recommended it to me—to us,usbeing Laken and me. And after giving it some thought, we agreed.
Laken and Cooper were married at Whitehorse. Laken and I were married in the Transfer. We thought we needed a fresh start, something that said new beginnings, one that will stretch from here to eternity.
Back when I lost Laken—the first time around at Ephemeral, it was revealed to me by the Justice Alliance that Laken and I would one day be together again. I’ll admit, deep down I wondered if that prediction had already come true when she lost her memory and came back to me for that brief yet glorious season. But it hadn’t.
However, today it happens. And it happens for good, for the very last time. Laken and I are solid, our shared grief for Coop bonded us like never before. I’d give anything for Cooper to be here to this day as Laken’s husband. But he can’t. This is where fate has led us, led me, right to the soot-colored shores of Rockaway Beach.
A heavy sigh expels from me as I watch the waves crash over the shore in a magnificent show of strength.
The onyx sand shimmers as the sun struggles to break through up above.
I’ve pulled out all stops today. No wish of Laken’s was too big. Everything she dreamed up is coming true for her today. And that’s exactly why a full-blown altar has been erected over the sand. An arch comprised of blush pink roses towers in a show of pastel beauty. Hundreds, if not thousands, of roses create a dreamscape for this dream day, and it feels right. I’ve donned a dark suit. Same with Gage, same with little Wes, and Eli. Tobie, Charlie, and Mally all have matching pink dresses with bows in their hair that sparkle.
Tobie and Charlie will be the flower girls this afternoon. Laken’s mother and Dr. Booth volunteered to watch the kids for us for the next few days. With the exception of Eli, of course. Kres is taking him home. She’s moved into the bungalow behind the main house. She doesn’t seem to mind the arrangement and neither does Laken. And I’m glad I get to have Eli in my life each day. I need him, too. I never want him to feel like second best. I never want him to know the torment Demetri caused me. As much as I didn’t want to admit it even to myself, it infuriated me, hurt me, to have lived in Gage Oliver’s shadow that way. But I’m over it now. Grown up and grown out of that mess in my head.
Speaking of the demon in question…
“Wesley.” Demetri widens his smile as he heads my way. “So gracious of you to extend the invite. The olive branch is well received.”
I nod. “I thought it was best.” The best way to heal. He’s still on the island, still in our lives. “You don’t have any more power over me, Demetri. In fact, you don’t have any more power over anything. Do you?”
He frowns as I say it. “Not yet.”
“Not ever.” I fiddle with the knot in my tie a moment. “Make yourself useful. Is my tie straight?”
Demetri gives it a yank and tug before slapping me over the lapels. He pins those dark twin bottomless pits he sees the world through on me and looks me right in the eye.
“You are my son, Wesley.” He nods. “You will always be my son.”
He turns and migrates toward the chairs set out in the sand, and I take a moment to let that sink in. For whatever it was worth, there it is.
The wind picks up and I take my place at the altar as the remaining seats fill in with friends and family.
Gage steps up and pulls me close. “This is it, man. You ready?”
“I was born for this.”
“I know, Wes.” He offers a sober nod. “I know.”
The music starts up, a trio of violins. Tobie and Charlie run down the aisle throwing rose petals at the crowd around them as if they were trying to put out a fire and the sound of our collective laughter rises to the sky.
And then the music shifts. My heart drums hard. My adrenaline spikes to unsafe levels. The world around me grows strangely dim as all eyes face toward the back, and I look to the left where she’s set to emerge. A small part of me fears she won’t come, but then I see her.
Laken Stewart Flanders strides forward on Dr. Booths’ arm, stunning as a vision in a flowing white gown that looks as if it was made of water, and air, and perhaps ripped right out of Candace Messenger’s celestial closet.
A moan works its way up my throat as I take her in.
