Total pages in book: 138
Estimated words: 136029 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 680(@200wpm)___ 544(@250wpm)___ 453(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 136029 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 680(@200wpm)___ 544(@250wpm)___ 453(@300wpm)
We reach the first row, and we round the seated guests.
Farrow is out of sight for a blink. Hidden behind the line of groomsmen and women, right before they stand on either side of the arch.
I inhale a stronger breath, my heartbeat beating double-timed. My head feels too light. Floating off my body.
I glance at my dad. Wondering if I will fucking pass out.
He gives me a sharp look and whispers, “Breathe, Moffy.”
Breathe. Didn’t think of that.
I take another breath and then I see him again. He’s kissing Ripley on the head, my mom carrying our son on her hip.
Farrow smiles at me while he gives my mom a hug.
“Moffy.” My dad’s voice pulls me, and he wraps an arm around my shoulder. I hug him tight, and before I can tell him I love him, he whispers, “You’ve made me so goddamn proud to call you my son.”
Jesus. Emotion swells up, closing my throat. All I can do is nod.
He strolls over to his first-row seat next to my mom. She blots fingers at her watery eyes, and my Aunt Daisy passes a pack of tissues.
Oscar leaves the groomsmen line and waits underneath the arch.
He’s officiating.
And I walk closer to the groom.
Farrow walks closer to me, his jet-black hair blowing in the warm coastal breeze. His eyebrow piercing rises as he gives me that look. You know the one.
He’s the most beautiful sight in Capri, on this island. In every universe.
We finally close the distance, meeting in the middle, and we breathe in together. The same time I reach for his hand, he clasps my palm.
His tattooed fingers slide along my knuckles. Transfixing me. I watch his thumb run over the black tungsten band, still on my finger.
“Maximoff,” Farrow whispers, and I glance up. His eyes are already reddened, on the cusp of emotion that burrows deep inside me. His mouth curves up. “You okay?”
I lick my lips, feeling my smile. “Yeah. You?”
He smiles more. “Yeah—” Lightning cracks the sky. Guests take their seats and murmur, everyone studying the clouds.
And then, rain falls.
Farrow and I share a smile as we’re doused with water, even as people shriek and Jane calls out, “Umbrellas are under the chairs!”
We pull each other closer, my chest brushing his chest. Rainwater drenches his hair, beads down his jaw, and kisses his smile.
Thunder booms, and Farrow laughs into this overwhelmed expression, “Looks like you made an appearance after me.”
The thunder, I realize. He’s bringing up what I said to him at the car crash.
I swallow, my heart filling and eyes welling. The storm washes tears that slip down my cheeks.
“Redford, you want an umbrella?!” Oscar shouts over another flash of lightning.
Farrow never looks away from me. “No, I’m good.”
My chest swells.
“Maximoff?” Oscar asks.
“I’m good too.”
We’ve always been headstrong, and there’s nothing I’d want more than to stand in the pouring rain with Farrow on our wedding day.
Clear umbrellas pop up with whooshing sounds, and rain pings the plastic in melodic harmony.
Farrow’s black button-down suctions to his skin, and we squint and smile through the sheets of rain, spilling harder.
Oscar grips an umbrella, staying dry. I’m not positive if guests will be able to hear him. Or us, but strangely, the rain transforms this moment to a quiet, soft, and private one.
He addresses the crowd but looks at us as he says, “We’re gathered here today to celebrate the love and union between Maximoff and Farrow.” Oscar grins. “I’m keeping this short and sweet. I know they have vows they want to get to.”
Through the rain, Farrow lifts his brows at me in a teasing wave.
I restrain nothing. I smile back.
Oscar continues, “If you really know these two men, then you know they’re who you call on when you’re at your lowest. When nothing is going right, you just know they’ll be there. One text, one call, no questions.” Thunder crackles. “They’re two of the most selfless men, and I can’t name two other people who are more perfect for each other. Their tenderness together can breathe life back into a body.” He takes a pause. “I’ve witnessed that firsthand.”
It dawns on me that Oscar was there at the crash site. He saw us together on the highway, that private moment, and it rushes up in me.
“I’m honored to be here to finally make this official.” Oscar smiles. “And so everyone can see your devotion to each other, even in the rain.”
Farrow’s carriage rises. Affection wrapping around us. Sheltering us.
“Without any further wait,” Oscar announces, “the grooms have prepared vows.” The storm lets up just a bit, enough that his voice seems louder.
That word—vows—pulls my attention. I’ve thought a lot about what I’d say, but more so about saying romantic, private stuff in front of a crowd.
Farrow told me that we didn’t have to write our own, but he deserves to hear my words from me.