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After we said our I-dos, the crowd moved to the outdoor banquet area.
Servers paraded out platters of wood-fired sea bass with charred lemon, slow-roasted Iberian pork belly infused with rosemary, and saffron-stained paella loaded with fresh prawns and clams.
Local Rioja and crisp Albariño wine flowed into the night.
The tables buzzed with loud banter and laughter.
Angel stood to make a toast, holding his wine glass high with a wicked grin.
‘We all know Deke is a brute on stage,’ Angel shouted over the cheers. ‘But we all saw him tearing up when Ana walked down the aisle. You’re soft, bro, but we love you for it!’
Deacon threw a bread roll at his head, laughing as the crowd roared.
With the speeches done, Deacon and I kicked off the dancing with a slow, sensual kizomba we’d been practicing for weeks.
We kept it PG for the kids, but the performance still had all the hallmarks of the famous dance, with our hips locked close and fluid rhythms that showcased our deep connection.
When we finished, we bowed and curtsied as the party burst into cheers, claps, and gasps.
We then amped the vibe with a fast-paced salsa, spinning across the timber floorboards while our guests clapped to the rhythm.
The energy peaked when the Six Sinners took the stage, plugged in, and played a few of their biggest hits. The crowd went wild, dancing barefoot on the grass under the stars.
Then the music shifted into a serenade, and Deacon stepped forward with his saxophone.
‘This one’s for the love of my life, second time’s forever,’ Deacon said into the microphone.
He caught my eye, a fierce heat in his gaze, and showcased a sultry solo dedicated to me.
The rich, soulful notes vibrated through the warm night air, carrying the story of our survival and true, passionate devotion, bringing everyone to tears.
As the night went on, Teagan stayed glued to Bishop’s arm, acting clingy and probably overwhelmed by our tight-knit camaraderie.
We tried to include her in the conversation, but she shut us out and focused only on Bishop.
She was all over him, sitting on his lap every chance she had, arms encircling him all the time, kissing him nonstop, never letting him breathe or have a discussion with anyone else.
Bishop appeared mildly embarrassed, trying to shift her energy and hands elsewhere while keeping up appearances.
Deacon leaned down to my ear, his hand sliding around my waist as we eyed them from the edge of the dance floor.
‘I don’t think she’s the one for Beau,’ Deacon whispered. ‘She’s striving too hard, and he’s suffocating.’
‘So who’s right for him?’ I asked, leaning back against his chest.
Deacon shrugged, resting his chin on my shoulder. ‘He keeps talking about this girl who haunts his dreams, but the man’s poetic to the core. So I’ve no clue if she’s real or imagined.’
‘I just want him to be happy.’
‘I think he wants it too, babe. He’s witnessing all the other band members fall one by one with their forever loves, and, being the poet he is, he yearns for it too. I hope he finds it, though, with the right woman.’
‘Like you have?’
He turned me to face him as he dipped his mouth to mine.
‘Can’t believe how lucky I am beautiful, you mean the world to me, hell you and Raff are the gift that keeps on giving.’
It was all I needed to hear as we slow-danced, with love, laughter, beauty, and joy floating around us.
