Chapter nineteen
Later That Night
Thereceptionhallhasbeen utterly transformed.
Earlier it held the long banquet tables filled with dinner conversation and delicious food. Now the space comes alive in a different way.
Staff have discreetly cleared the dining area for dancing, pushing the linen-covered tables back against the stone walls where candles flicker beside tall arrangements of blush rosesand pale-blue hydrangeas. Small strings of lights wind through the wooden beams overhead, softening the height of the ceiling and turning the space into something festive and intimate all at once.
Through the tall windows the gardens lie in twilight, lanterns glowing along the gravel paths where guests wander to get away from the fray for a moment or two.
At the center sits the cake. It’s unapologetically spectacular. Four tiers of ivory buttercream are wrapped in delicate sugar flowers echoing the embroidery on Marisol’s gown. Tiny, sparkly pearls along the edges catch the candlelight. It’s art, not dessert.
I stand near Miranda with a glass of champagne, trying to behave like a normal human being instead of someone whose entire life has been upended in the best and most unexpected way.
Zach stands beside Julian and Irving near the bar. The three of them look almost identical in their midnight-blue tuxedos. Satin lapels. Crisp white shirts. Gold crown cufflinks glinting beneath the lights. Even Fred and Jose match them tonight.
Four generations of princes who wandered out of a Disney story.
Every few minutes his gaze lifts and finds mine, causing my heart to flip. I’m twenty-two again, sitting beside him in a lecture hall praying he thinks I’m pretty.
We haven’t touched since the ceremony. Not because we don’t want to. We promised each other to keep the focus where it belongs tonight. Marisol and Julian.
Before the reception began we slipped into the gardens for a breath of quiet between photographs and champagne. Zach turned toward me at the exact same moment I turned toward him.
“I told—”
“I told—” We spoke over each other.
“Julian and Irving,” he admitted.
“Marisol,” I replied.
For a second we stared at each other and let the absurdity settle in. Then we both started laughing.
“Well.” He scrubbed a hand through his hair. “So much for subtle. Apparently we’re terrible at secrets.” He stepped a little closer, lowering his voice as guests began to filter into the ballroom again. “Maybe we behave for a few hours.”
“Tonight belongs to them,” I agreed.
For a little while longer, we’ll let the celebration stay exactly where it belongs. Looking. Smiling. Not touching.
“Cake!” Soleil announces suddenly, her voice cuts through the music like a trumpet fanfare.
Sera appears beside her sister at the cake table with equal authority. The twins stand shoulder to shoulder. Tiny officials supervising the proceedings.
Julian and Marisol step forward, glowing in the afterlight of the ceremony. Cameras appear immediately. The guests gather around them in a loose half circle. The knife eases through the top tier. Applause breaks out.
Julian feeds Marisol the first bite with exaggerated ceremony. She retaliates with equal enthusiasm and nearly gets frosting on his lapel before rescuing the moment at the last second.
The twins cheer. Laughter reverberates while servers cut slices and pass them out.
Then someone taps a glass. “Toasts.”
Fred goes first. His voice carries the warm steadiness of a man who has watched his son grow into himself over many years. He speaks about patience. About choosing a partner not just for joy but for the difficult days too.
Jose follows with stories about Marisol as a child. Stubborn, brilliant, determined even at eight years old she would have the perfect Disney wedding someday.
Then Irving rises. The law school friends brace for impact.
