I look at him and nod.
“Anything.”
He pulls me close and kisses the top of my head. “Right now, I just need you to let me hold you.”
Unlike Evelyn and Frank, we wanted our wedding in the afternoon, primarily so the kids would have a chance to play in the pool and on the lawn after the ceremony. By noon, everyone has gathered. The invited press is set up in the back, our friends are all sitting in the white folding chairs lined up on the lawn, the wedding arch is covered with flowers, and our children are standing in front of us at the back of the aisle.
This time, Lara and Anne won’t be scattering flowers. Instead they’re simply going to walk ahead of us, holding their little brother’s hand as he walks between them. The three of them look absolutely adorable in their fancy clothes, and as I lean against Damien, I don’t think that I’ve ever been happier in my life, not even on our original wedding day. That day had been amazing, but I wasn’t a mom back then. And, honestly, that colors everything.
The music begins, people turn in their chairs, and our children start down the aisle. We wait until they get halfway, then Damien and I take our first steps as well. He squeezes my hand and whispers, “I love you,” and I know that my smile couldn’t be any brighter.
I feel all the eyes on us as we walk the short distance to the arch. As we planned, as soon as we arrive, our children sit near the judge’s feet, making them an integral part of the ceremony, too.
Judge Kaplan smiles at us, then lifts his eyes toward our gathered friends and family. “Thank you all for coming to celebrate with Nikki and Damien, as they renew their vows.”
He takes a breath, getting ready to start the small speech before Damien and I speak the vows we wrote to each other, but he’s interrupted by a man’s voice from the back.
“Not everyone came here to celebrate,” he says, the words sending a chill up my spine. Damien squeezes my hand and we turn around to see a dark haired man who looks vaguely familiar standing at the end of the aisle.
I have a moment of déjà vu as I think that he must be the man I saw at Evelyn and Frank’s wedding. But as I look closer, I realize that he’s not. The two men look similar, but there are enough differences in their faces to make me certain I didn’t see this man last week.
Damien starts to take a step toward him, and I hear his soft curse. That’s when I realize who this person is. It’s Ashton Stone, and I recognize him from his picture on the television.
Before Damien can speak, Stone’s words ring out over the heads of all of our friends. “Damien Stark isn’t a man I can celebrate,” he says. “Neither should you. He may be wealthy. He may be powerful. But this is a man who had a son. Who shoved that child out of sight so that he wouldn’t get in the way of his fabulous life on the tennis circuit and then in industry. Damien Stark is a man who sacrificed family for money and fame. This is a man who doesn’t deserve your celebration. How do I know? My name is Ashton Carrington Stone. And my father is Damien Stark.”
I feel my knees go weak, and I think Damien’s have, too, because his arm goes around my waist and he holds me close. I expect him to signal to the security guards to take Ashton away, but instead he lets him speak.
I’m not sure if there’s a purpose, or if he’s just too shell-shocked to stop the man. Everyone in the crowd is silent, some looking at us, some looking at Ashton. I see Evelyn’s eyes on me, and the sympathy reflected there makes me want to cry more than this man’s words.
“Smells like scandal to me,” Ashton continues. “You have daddy issues, Stark? Well guess what? So do I. And now that I’m an adult with my own assets and resources, I’m not just going to sit back and stay quiet. I’m going to destroy you, destroy your business. You know I have the tech to build on, and I’m very, very motivated.
“It’ll be a challenge, sure, but it’s one I’m willing to pursue, and I’ll have a great time doing it.” He turns and steps into the aisle, then drops a large, sealed envelope onto the ground.
“I’m leaving now. Have your goons stop me if you want, that’s your choice. But you know that every word I’ve said is true. You left me. You forgot about me. You erased me from your life. And I’m going to erase you, too.”
And then as me and everyone else in the crowd gasps, Ashton Stone turns and walks away, with Damien standing still and silent beside me.
As soon as he’s gone, the crowd starts to murmur. I hear Damien’s name as well as mine. And someone’s voice rises above the unintelligible murmurs to very clearly point out just how much Ashton Stone looks like Damien.
From her seat in the front, Sylvia calls the children to her.
But Damien shakes his head. “No. Stay where you are, kids.” He looks out over the crowd, even at the press who are practically buzzing with what they’ve just witnessed. I’m certain they’re already quietly sending texts of this breaking news back to their offices.
“For the record,” he says, as he moves to pick up the folder, “I barely know that man, and I don’t know what grudge he holds against me. But it doesn’t matter. This day is about me and Nikki and our vows, and we’re going to continue this ceremony. If you’d all please take your seats, we can continue.”
Everyone gathered, including the press, falls silent as Damien starts to turn back toward the arch. But I don’t. I stay perfectly still, frozen by the mathematical reality that Damien clearly hasn’t yet considered.
Ashton Stone is in his late twenties, which means that if Damien is his father, Damien would have been around fourteen when Ashton was conceived. And that’s how old he was when he slept with Sofia, doing the only thing he could to keep his father from whoring her out.
“Damien,” I whisper. “We need to postpone the ceremony.”
He turns back to face me, and I can see the effort as he works to control his temper. “The hell we are. Today’s about family. This is our day, our day to celebrate our marriage and our family.”
“I know. You’re right. The day is about family.” I squeeze his hand, hating this so much, and hating even more that our private life is so damn public. “But, Damien,” I whisper, “I think Ashton Stone might be family, too.”
15
Everyone is sympathetic following the interruption, but it still takes time to clear the crowd out. Even the press seems to want to hang about and say how sorry they are about the whole thing. To my surprise, nobody asks what was in the envelope that Ashton dropped.
The kids and I join Damien as he walks across the lawn so that he can address the members of the press. To them, I’m sure he looks as calm and in control as always, but I see the pain and confusion underneath. That need to do something. To find answers. That frustration that he can’t simple reach out, push a button, and have the world fall obediently into place.
“I understand that you’ll report this,” he says as the cameras record every word. “It’s news, and I get that. But I would ask you to solicit my comments before you publish.” A chuckle rises from the group, and to my surprise, Damien actually joins them. “I know,” he says. “That’s not my usual practice for articles dealing with my personal life. But today is not a usual day.”