I look toward the end of the aisle, holding my breath, andthere she is. My beautiful, blooming flower: Iris. Smiling and trembling on her father’s arm.
She’s as beautiful as I’ve ever seen her. Glowing. Ethereal. Also—am I allowed to think this?—she’s hot as fuck, too. A smoke show. Her dress is elegant and classy, yes—but also downright sexy. Jesus. She’s a knockout.
Our gazes meet, and Iris touches the pearl choker wrapped around her delicate neck—her mother’s necklace. A lump rises in my throat.Aw, baby.I know how much that necklace means to her. It means a lot to me, too, especially because she saved it just for me.
When Iris reaches me, I kiss her cheek and thank her father.
“You look beautiful, baby,” I whisper, taking her hand in mine. “Wow.”
“You look prettywowyourself.”
Iris’s father takes his seat, and everyone in attendance sits along with him.
“We’re gathered here today to celebrate two of my all-time favorite people,” Luca begins. “My big brother Roman and his lucky charm, Iris. My sister from another mister. My honorary triplet. Sorry, Levi.”
Everyone in on the joke laughs. We all know Levi adores Iris, too, but he always pretends to be annoyed that Luca opened up their “sacred twinship” to include an honorary third.
After scanning the crowd ceremoniously, Luca takes a deep, solemn breath and delivers his next word in a flat, somber tone. “Mawwaige.”
Everyone, including Iris and me, cracks up at the movie reference, the same way everyone did at Marco and Nicola’s wedding. Luca’s not merely recycling an old, successful comedic bit, though: Iris has always lovedThe Princess Brideas much as Nicola. And now, thanks to Iris, Maverick and I love it, too.
After Luca gives his introduction, Iris’s maid of honor, Harper,steps forward to read a poem. As she speaks, I glance at my parents in the front row and exchange wide smiles with them. After that, I do the same thing with Coach Hardy and my ace receiver, Tyrell, and several of my other teammates in the second row. And finally, I look down at my beloved son and grin at his soft, dark curls and the look of deep concentration on his adorable face. Maverick’s guarding that damned pillow with his life. Apparently, six-year-olds are every bit as easy to dupe as four-year-olds when it comes to attaching fake, plastic rings to pillows at weddings.
As Harper reaches the last lines of her poem, I return my gaze to my bride to find she’s got moisture in her eyes. Squeezing her hands, I whisper, “I love you.”
“I love you, too,” she whispers back. “So much.”
“And now for the exchange of vows,” Luca says. When he prompts Iris to speak, she pulls out a folded piece of paper from her bra with a shaking hand, making everyone chuckle.
“Roman,” Iris begins in a trembling voice. “You’ve taught me about true love. You’re my best friend. My biggest fan. My coach and my teammate. I promise to always be all those things for you, too.” Her eyes fill with proper tears, the same as mine. “Whatever passes life throws at us, I can’t wait to catch them as your wife. Whatever problems might come up, we’ll tackle them together. You’re my endgame, Roman Maguire. Forever and always. You and Maverick and whatever babies we’re lucky enough to have. I love you and Maverick—” She smiles at Mav. “And I can’t wait to be your loving and faithful wife, for better or worse, in sickness and in health, till death do us part.”
“Damn,” Luca says. “Good luck, bro, but you can’t do any better than that.”
“She’s a tough act to follow,” I agree with a laugh. I take a deep breath and turn my attention to Iris. I’m not wearing my magic blinders right now, but I might as well be. In this moment, IrisBenedetto, the love of my life, is all I see. “Iris, for a long time, I thought I’d met you ‘inparadise.’ But now I know. It wasn’t the place that was the paradise. It was being with you. Wherever I am, as long as I’m with you, I’ll always be in paradise.”
My mother lets out a little whimper in the front row, as Iris simultaneously does the same thing before me, and everyone reacts to my mother’s adorableness.
I swallow hard and continue, “When Marco married Nicola, he said his Super Bowl ring could never mean as much to him as his wedding ring. And, frankly, at the time, I thought he’d lost his damned mind.”
Everyone laughs, including Iris.
“But now that I’ve gottwoSuper Bowl rings of my own—”
One of my teammates, my wide receiver, Tyrell, shouts out, “Yeah, babyyyyyy!” and everyone in attendance who isn’t a Knights fan cheers and hoots loudly for a long moment.
When the disruption wanes, I return to Iris. “Sorry about that, baby. Didn’t mean to get them riled up.”
“It doesn’t take much,” Iris teases, making everyone laugh again.
“The point I was trying to make, before I got sorudelyinterrupted—” I glare with mock irritation at Tyrell, before returning to Iris with a grin. “—is that I now understand what Marco meant. Iris, loving you is better than winning any Super Bowl. Ortwo,as the case may be ...”
Every Thunderbolt lover in attendance whoops and applauds raucously yet again, this time making Iris and me guffaw.
“Guys,” I say with mock irritation. “This isn’t a pep rally. I’m trying to get married here.” I roll my eyes playfully, making Iris giggle. “Now, where was I?”
“I’mparadise. Not the place.”
“Right. Thank you. Actually, wait. Before I get to the rest of my vows, I feel like I should make it perfectly clear to the footballgods who might be listening, nothing I might say here today should be interpreted as a lack of desire on my part to three-peat this year and get myself and my teammatesanotherSuper Bowl ring. Let me be perfectly clear about that. All I’m saying is, no matter how many Super Bowl rings I wind up with—whether that turns out to be two, three, four, or five—none of them will ever mean as much as the wedding ring I’m about to start wearing for the rest of my life to mark me as Iris’s husband.”
