27
Epilogue:
Mia:
I don’t think I was this nervous on my first wedding day. Probably because when I married Bartek I took a handful of pills I’d been saving for a rainy day and washed it down with enough vodka to tranquilize a horse.
Not this time around, though.
This time around, I don’t want anything to numb the feelings I have for Serafin. I don’t want to miss out on a single second of this day. We opted to have a very small wedding, just him, me, and Fabian and Rafal as witnesses. The whole idea of a huge wedding just didn’t seem like us. It’s probably what his family would have wanted. It’s what is expected from a King, but the only thing I care about is knowing I’ll get to spend the rest of my life with him.
I step into my beige lace covered fitted dress, dust my cheeks with blush, and stuff some more bobby pins in my hair, spraying it all over one last time for good measure. Before I walk out of the bedroom door, I make sure I spray myself in a mist of perfume. That bottle from twelve years ago can be my something old.
It’s all old, him and I, but it’s all new, too.
Every day I’m learning more about the man he is - how he’s always wanted a dog but was afraid he wouldn’t know how to care for it. When we brought Bentley home from the pound, I don’t know who was more excited, Serafin, or our fluffy little kundel who sleeps on top of him every night.
That crazy mutt is waiting at the foot of the stairs for me, his eyes begging me not to go.
“I promise Tymon will make you an extra special dinner tonight, buddy,” I say, squatting down next to him and petting him on the head. “Mommy and daddy will be home soon.”
Every day I’m learning more and more about how deep down Serafin always wanted to have a lot of children, but he was afraid he’d be absent like his father or overbearing like his mother.
Now I’m wondering if I’m so emotional because the day has finally come that I get to read my wedding vows to him, or if it’s the pregnancy hormones making me burst into tears of joy. I give thanks to God for waterproof mascara as Maria helps me with my coat.
I guess when we’re together, anything is possible. Everything we don’t know, we can figure out. Everything we fear, we can tackle together. Every promise that was ever broken to one of us, we can make sure our kids will never experience that pain. We can be better for them.
Maria and Tymon walk me out into the driveway where there’s a limousine waiting for me. The driver opens the door, and I can’t help but blush when I see Serafin waiting for me inside. He looks straight up hot in his dark gray tuxedo.
“You’re not supposed to be in here!” I say. “You’re not supposed to see me in my dress until the ceremony.”
“Fuck the ceremonial shit,” he says, pulling me into the limo next to him. He kisses my neck and I melt in his arms. “I didn’t want you to have to travel alone.”
“Because you think someone’s going to try and attack us on our wedding day?” I ask.
He takes my face in his hand ever so gently, turning me to look in his eyes. “Because I know you don’t like going places by yourself. Besides, it’s nearly an hour drive to the church. I don’t want you getting cold feet and running away.”
“It’s a little late for that,” I say with a laugh, taking his hand and putting it on my stomach.
He presses his lips to mine, and I swear, every time this man kisses me it feels like the very first time all over again. I feel like a teenager lost in love, so overwhelmed with my feelings for him, I turn into mush. Only now, I don’t have to run away. I can lean into it with everything I have because there really is nothing else in this world that’s more right for me.
The hourlong drive feels like an eternity, and I clench his hand the whole way. The excitement bubbles inside me, and I don’t know if I want to laugh, cry, or scream. I just want to be his bride. I fidget with my ring and try and focus on the scenery, but I’d much rather stare at this hot stud who will officially be mine forever in a few short hours.
We finally reach the church, and Fabian and Rafal are waiting outside on the steps, their arms crossed over their chests like a couple of bodyguards. They both look pretty charming in their suits, but I know I nabbed myself the best King of them all.
We get out of the car, and Serafin takes my hand in his, his fingers interlacing with mine, and his palms are so sweaty, it makes me giggle. He’s as nervous as I am.
“What?” he asks, stopping at the foot of the steps.
“You’re sweaty,” I tease.
“Well, look at your armpits,” he says with a wink. I look down and notice a ring of sweat around the beige fabric. I slap my hand over my mouth, mortified. “You look fucking gorgeous, Mia. The most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. I’m just lucky I get to be the guy who washes the pit stains out of your clothes for the next hundred years.”
“You do laundry now?” I ask, raising my eyebrows. “And we’re gonna live to be a hundred and thirty? Dear Lord!”
“I’m nervous as hell, Mia,” he says, staring down at his feet and laughing nervously. “My words are coming out all weird.”
“I’m glad,” I say, pulling him in for a hug. “I’m nervous, too. Good nervous, obviously.”
“Obviously.”
The sound of a camera going off jars me from our moment. I look over my shoulder and Magda is standing there with what looks like a professional photographer’s camera, snapping pictures of the two of us.
“I thought it was just supposed to be the four of us,” I whisper.
“We need wedding pictures, Mia. I didn’t want you to regret not having any professionally done, and Magda volunteered.”
I shrug it off, even though it doesn’t sit right with me. I had no idea she even knew anything about photography, but she just seems to be a jack of all trades.
Maybe Magda’s just trying to warm Fabian up to the idea of getting married someday. Maybe she thinks if she’s here with him during our wedding, it’ll put him in the mood. I turn and wave at her, and quickly wonder if she’s good enough at Photoshop to take care of my pit stains.
“If you want me to leave, I will, Mia. This is your day,” she says, and I wonder if mind reader is one of those many trades she’s an expert at. “Fabian was supposed to tell you!”
“No, I am thankful to have you here,” I say. “I’d rather not rely on Rafal’s selfie skills to document my big day.”
“They’d probably just be pictures of your butt. And your feet,” Fabian says, laughing.
“Her feet are not my type, man,” Rafal says. “I like them a little bit bigger.”
“You’re disgraceful,” Serafin says. “You keep your perverted eyes off my wife’s feet.”
These guys always know how to make me laugh. I feel a lot less nervous than I did only a few minutes ago.
“You ready to do this?” Serafin turns to me and I take a deep breath. Rafal and Fabian hold the doors to the church open and I nod enthusiastically.
I squeeze his hand as we take the stairs to the start of our dream life.