We hadn’t talked about making things public, but I guess kissing me in front of everyone settles that question. And while I’m not worried about pictures being posted, given all the vendors signed NDAs and close family and friends were requested not to share pictures publicly, there’s something both thrilling and terrifying about not hiding anymore.
Thrilling, because it seems like he’s making a statement. Terrifying, because once this goes public, the media will have a field day—speculating, dissecting, and keeping everyone guessing as to if we’ll actually work out this time.
But we’ll worry about that when the time comes.
Once I kiss Troy’s cheek, Patton and I take our places opposite each other, next to Dev and Piper, respectively. The soft ocean breeze lifts my dark shoulder-length hair as I sweep my gaze around the beach, looking at everyone who came here to celebrate this momentous occasion.
Troy’s parents are in the front row, with Pearl and Rome sitting on each side of them. Each of the Schlongs, aside from the three standing at the altar, are sitting next to their Clam Jam wives. Rani and Kavi wave and blow a kiss my and Piper’s way, and I do the same in return. Dean, being Dean, also blows anexaggerated kiss my way using both hands, complete with a wink and a hand gesture, telling me to call him.
Mala elbows his side, giggling, because only Dean’s wife can put up with his idiocy. But that’s a testament to how secure she is in their relationship. She knows Dean is absolutely feral for her, regardless of the show he puts on to get laughs.
I shake my head, but as soon as my eyes find Patton across from me, I bite my lip to hold back my laugh. He’s gone rigid, jaw locked and eyes aiming missiles at Dean. I swear, if it wasn’t for the respect he has for Troy and Sarina, my ex-husband would have committed murder by now.
Thankfully, his homicidal thoughts are interrupted when Sarina’s favorite Hindi song, “Jashn-E-Bahaaraa” by A.R. Rahman, starts and everyone in the audience turns to watch Sarina appear at the end of the aisle with my dad. The sensual blend of the sitar and flute immediately sets the mood, and I swear goosebumps rise along my arms when I look at my beautiful sister.
Soft gasps erupt, along with sniffles, but all I hear is the way Troy takes in a shuddering breath. His eyes are glassy with unshed tears, and his love for my sister is written as clear as the skies above when he takes her in.
“Fuck.” He swallows, visibly holding himself together. “She looks like an angel.”
Sarina kisses our dad on the cheek before he hands her over to Troy, giving Troy a hug. Holding Sarina’s hand above her head, Troy spins my sister around so herlehengaflares, making the guests holler and clap, before he pulls her to him, planting a kiss on her forehead.
He looks completely mesmerized by her, and the look on his face, completely love-struck and in awe, sends me back to the moment Patton saw me on our wedding day.
Where Troy is visibly holding back tears, I’d wiped my ex-husband’s tears with the pads of my thumbs, breaking protocol and kissing him before we were supposed to.
Because love was never our problem . . .
Life was.
And perhaps our youth, too.
Feeling his gaze on me, my eyes drag over to Patton. And it’s as if he can read my thoughts because the look on his face suggests he was there with me in that moment, reminiscing about that day, wishing everything had turned out differently.
There’s pain there, but there’s something else, too. Something that looks a lot like hope and faith. Something I’ve only recently started feeling after years of being comfortable in my hopelessness.
It’s as if he’s telling me to hang on, to have faith that this time will work out differently. That this time we won’t let life get in the way. That we’ll fight this time—for us and our upcoming little bundle. Because this time we’re ready and exactly where we need to be.
And for the first time in years, I start to believe him.
Sarina passes me her bouquet with a smile that lights up her entire face, and I tell her I love her once more.
She turns to Troy, hands entwined with his. “So . . . we’re doing this.”
“That was never a question in my mind. I was going to get you to this altar even if I had to carry you over my shoulder, crying and screaming.”
“Caveman.”
“I prefer husband.”
“I prefer that, too,” she says, eyes sparkling.
“Good, because I’m going to ask that you scream that for me tonight when I’m buried?—”
“Troy!” she gasps, making Piper and me giggle, and Troy’s fellow cavemen groomsmen give him fist bumps like they’re his frat brothers.
The officiant, an Indian priest who has clearly heard the exchange, clears his throat, giving Troy a stern look. “Shall we proceed before you over-share any more with all the guests?”
I purse my lips, holding back my laugh as Sarina flushes brighter than her dress. Patton coughs into his fist, and Dev’s shoulders shake, not able to hold back his chuckle.
