Sienna
“People don’t make physical photo albums anymore.”
I hear my mother say as I step in from the kitchen with three glasses of milk on a tray and a plate of cookies. She and Jude are seated on the sofa, flipping through our old photo album so I place the tray on the table and jump onto the big comfy sofa, nestling between them.
"What are you looking at?" I ask, dropping my head on my mother's lap, smiling when she strokes my hair as she used to when I was a little girl.
“I was just telling your brother here how people stopped making photo albums. Instead, they just take pictures and post them on Facebook for everyone to see.”
“God, Mom, you’re so old. What the hell is a Facebook?” That comment earns my brother a playful slap on the shoulder but he escapes as he reaches over to grab a glass of milk and a cookie. “We’re in the era of the internet, mother. If you lose these pictures, they’re gone for good but the internet lives forever.”
"It's just not the same," she muses, turning to the photo album and something flickers on her face, a pained look that is gone just as fast as it arrives. I follow her eyes to the picture she'sstaring at and feel a tug in my chest when I see it's one from her wedding. She's holding a bouquet, a bright smile on her face as she and my father exchange a look filled with so much affection that it ought to be private.
“Dad looks handsome here,” I point out, reaching for her hand to comfort her. “Did you know you wanted to marry him the day you met?”
The question draws a laugh from her and I read humor in her eyes when she turns to look at me. “Oh no. Your father forbade me from telling this story to you kids but since he's not here…"
“He’s here in spirit,” Jude says in a mouthful of cookies, earning a glare from Mom.
“Do you want the story or not?"
“Tell me,” I say, squeezing her hand. “I want to hear about how you and Dad met."
“Your father and I went to the same high school but I had a crush on his best friend,” she starts, giggling when my eyes widen in shock. “So when he found out that I liked his best friend, he offered to help me ask my crush out. He suggested practice dates since I’d never gone out with anyone before.”
I gasp. “No, he didn’t!”
“Yes, he did,” she laughs. “So I let him take me out on several dates, as practice, of course, but the whole time, he was wooing me. It took until the fourth date to realize what he was doing. When I finally confronted him, he didn’t even bother denying it.”
“So, what happened?” Jude chimes, clearly invested.
“What do you think? I felt cheated so I stormed out of the date, swore I was never talking to him again, cursing myself forletting some high school jock deceive me.” Mischief glimmers in her eyes and I can almost see her travel to that day decades ago. “Anyway, I’m walking to the bus station, fuming, when your father runs after me, slinging his coat over my shoulders and talking about taking me home. Then it starts raining, right then and there.”
“But it never rains in Vegas,” I mutter.
"It did that night and it was magical," she says with a sigh. "We kissed in the rain and I knew right then and there that I would marry him.”
We turn to pictures of us as babies, drink milk and cookies as we chat about the past. And when the conversation touches on Dad, my heart isn’t as heavy. The memory of his kind eyes and genuine smile doesn’t send a sharp pain in my stomach like it used to.
The conversation shifts to the wedding happening tomorrow and I can’t help but smile at the memory of Pope’s scowl when I told him I would be spending the night with my family. He wasn’t pleased by the idea of separation but I was adamant about maintaining the tradition of the groom waiting to see the bride at the ceremony.
A ceremony I wasn’t sure would happen.
It’s been three weeks since the accident and the wedding dress fiasco, and a part of me has been bracing for another incident but so far, nothing major has happened. Well, nothing to raise any major flags anyway. Still, it doesn't stop me from worrying. Heck, it doesn't stop Pope from worrying or else, he wouldn't have asked his most trusted man, Ghost, to keep watch of my building from a car outside until morning. I try to push down the guilt of having Ghost out there in the cold but Poperefused to back down about my protection and Ghost didn’t seem to mind guarding us all night.
"Tomorrow, I'll add another picture to this album." Mom's expression softens and I watch as she closes the book with a gentle sigh before turning to touch the wedding band she still wears on her finger. "I can’t believe my baby is getting married.”
Jude groans in his teenage dramatic way, slapping a hand over his eyes. "Don't open the flood gates, mom. You've been sobbing about this all week."
“I can cry all I want,” she scolds playfully, nudging my head off her lap and she gets to her feet. “I’m going to bed, you should too if you don’t want to show up at your own wedding with bags under your eyes. And Jude, don’t forget to take your meds.”
“I know. I know.”
She rolls her eyes at us but I spot the smile on her lips as he disappears down the hall to her bedroom. Once she’s gone, I clear the table and settle back down on the sofa and put on a movie for Jude and me to watch but the credits have barely rolled when Jude turns to me with a serious look on his face that gives me a bad start.
“What?” I ask defensively.
“You’re getting married tomorrow.”
