And then he was gone, wheeling toward the lobby, following the promise of frosting.
The room remained frozen for a beat.
Then someone laughed.
Then someone else.
Then the entire reception was laughing—that relief-edged, slightly-hysterical laughter that comes after genuine fear.
"Your grandfather just pulled a gun at our wedding," Quentin said.
"I'm aware."
"That happened. That was a real thing that happened."
"Welcome to the family."
"This family is insane."
"You married into it. No take-backs."
He pulled me close, kissing my temple. "Wouldn't dream of it."
The DJ spoke up, clearly trying to salvage the moment. "Okay! Now that things have settled down, how about we let the bride and groom finish cutting that cake? Everyone wants a piece, right?"
Applause. Lots of nervous laughter.
We returned to the cake—now with a slightly different energy than before.
"This is the weirdest wedding I've ever been to," Stone muttered.
"This is the only wedding you've been to," Serenity corrected.
"And it will remain the only one. I'm traumatized."
Quentin and I cut another slice—the "official" one for photos, since the first had been interrupted by armed-grandfather-crisis.
This time, Quentin did smash a little frosting on my nose.
I retaliated by smearing some on his cheek.
The photographer captured it all—us laughing, covered in sugar, alive and married and somehow having survived everything thrown at us.
Including literal gunfire threats.
After cake had been served and people had returned to celebrating, the DJ announced other traditional dances. "The bride will now dance with her brother, the don of the Russo family!"
Carlo appeared at my side, offering his hand. "May I have this dance,sorella?"
"Yes."
He led me onto the floor as "The Way You Look Tonight" began playing.
"Thank you," I said quietly as we swayed. "For everything. For believing in me. For giving me a chance."
"You're my sister. There was never a question." His expression turned serious. "Are you happy, Jules? Really happy?"
"I am. Terrified, but happy."
