Just as I released her, Aris rose from his seat and called for everyone’s attention. His voice cut through the room, commanding in a way that made everybody stop and listen.
“I want to first thank my daughter-in-law, Tia, for organizing this event at such short notice.” He smiled at her with real warmth, and she nodded back. Santo kissed her cheek.
Then he turned to me, his eyes locking onto mine with such intensity that everybody else seemed to fade away. He began walking toward me, each step deliberate, making my heart race.
What was he doing?
When he dropped to one knee in front of my chair, I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think straight. The room went completely silent.
“Dede,” he began, “I have tried to find more eloquent words, but there are no simpler, truer ways to say this. I love you. Butbeyond that, I respect you, your strength, your independence, your courage and drive. I love your sense of self, and the way you know exactly what you want and go for it, yes.”
His hand reached for mine. “I’m not a man who believed in fate until I met you. I’m not a man who loses control, yet you, you unravel me with a look. And I am certainly not a man who kneels easily.”
I stared in disbelief as he pulled out a small velvet box. “But for you, Dede, I will kneel, yes. I will compromise. I will move to America if I must do this.” He shook his head, almost in disbelief. “Will you do me the honor of—”
“Yes! Yes, Aris, I will!”
He asked. After all the ways he’d told me and ordered me and informed me — he asked. And the word yes came out of me so easily.
It had always been yes. He just had to let me be the one to say it.
Aris grinned up at me, not seeming to mind being cut off. He stood and helped me to my feet, then pulled me as close as my belly would allow and kissed me.
That kiss went on and on, and even with everybody watching, I didn’t give a damn. I wanted to stay there forever.
Squeals, applause, and someone wolf-whistling erupted around us.
“Oh, for God’s sake!” Santo interrupted, his voice carrying over the celebration. “Cut it out already.”
We ignored him. We ignored everyone. Aris deepened the kiss, holding me tighter.
“At least let the woman see the ring!” Kandi shouted, laughing.
Reluctantly, Aris pulled back just enough to slip the ring onto my finger. I barely glanced at it—couldn’t take my eyes off his face—before I kissed him again.
28
Dede and I stood together at the altar of Mount Olive Baptist, Kandi and Markos our only witnesses. Chrysanthos was in the middle of his racing season, with back-to-back competitions that kept him and Tia in Europe.
When we’d called to tell them about our plans for a quick legal ceremony now, followed by a proper celebration later, Chrysanthos had been enthusiastic, while Tia had been quieter but happy for us. They both understood this first wedding was purely practical, ensuring everything was official before their siblings arrived. The lavish wedding, the one where Tia would stand beside her mother and my mother would weep with joy, would happen after our children were born.
The last three weeks had been agony for me. I would have flown us to Vegas the evening I proposed, but I wanted the ceremony performed by Pastor William.
Image of Deanna in fuchsia dress...
Dede looked striking in a simple fuchsia dress that accommodated her pregnancy and ended just below her knees. Her skin had a distinctive glow, and her hair was styled in braids she’d jokingly called her “postpartum braids.” The delicate diamond tiara I’d gifted her on her birthday last week crowned her head, sparkling with each small movement.
The diamond bracelet I’d given her on Valentine’s Day glittered at her wrist, complemented by the matching diamond necklace and earrings I’d presented to her before we arrived at the church. Each time our eyes met, I felt a softening within myself.
The night of the proposal, she confessed she would have agreed to become my wife had I simply asked rather than stated, as I had been doing. My arrogance had postponed this moment by months. But I refused to wallow in regret.
Returning my focus to the present moment, I listened attentively to Pastor Williams.
He had declined to perform the ceremony three times. Each refusal had been couched in excuses about scheduling conflicts and prior commitments, but I’d seen through the pretense. He didn’t want to marry the woman he’d been pursuing to another man.
A seven-figure donation to Mount Olive Baptist’s building fund had resolved his reluctance rather quickly. The church board had been extremely persuasive when they approached him about performing this “special ceremony for such a generous benefactor.”
Now he stood before us, his expression professionally neutral, though I caught the tightness around his eyes each time helooked at Dede. Good. Let him recite the words that would legally bind the woman he desired to me forever.
