Page 120 of Lucky Strike

Sloane bustles around, giving last-minute directives as she refills everyone’s champagne. Taya hands me my earrings, tiny diamond studs from our paternal grandmother. One woman does my makeup while another fusses with the wildflowers strewn through my curls. The photographer dances around, capturing a few more getting ready shots before disappearing to Owen and Sloane’s garden to photograph the guests.

There’s a knock on the door. “It’s time!” Sloane announces, tossing back the last of her champagne before she disappears. Taya and I take another sister selfie before she blows me a kiss and leaves to join Finn, her partner down the aisle.

Maeve, my maid of honor, hands me a bouquet of roses and peonies, her eyes welling up. “You’re the sister I never had. Hurry up and say those vows so we can make it official.”

We step onto the porch of the guest house, where my dad is waiting. His dark brown eyes widen, and he puts his fist to his mouth, trying to pull himself together. Maeve touches his arm and leaves to walk the aisle with Tristan, giving us a brief moment.

“Can’t believe that’s my little Bri-Bri,” he says with a tremulous sigh, dabbing at his eyes with the fancy, deep-pink handkerchief from his suit. “You look beautiful, baby.”

I lean forward, kissing his cheek. “Thanks, Dad.”

When he was first released, it was as if he’d forgotten how to use his voice. He was reserved, always seeming to hold back like he wasn’t sure he should take up space. But once we started spending time together, the floodgates opened.

Things aren’t perfect between us, but we’ve been making up for lost time the best we can. I feel like I understand him better than I did before. A lot of the choices he made when he was younger were for us, even though they didn’t turn out the way he’d hoped.

“I’m so grateful I get to be a part of your special day.”

“Me, too.” I’d long accepted that my father was going to continue missing things like this, so having him here feels like a gift I still can’t believe I’ve been given. I have Saoirse to thank for that, partly. They used their connections and made a lot of calls to expedite Dad’s release when the parole process dragged. They even made sure he went straight home, skipping the halfway house altogether. It was long overdue, Owen had said.

Leaving the porch, we walk across the lawn and into the woods behind the house, toward the delicate sounds of a string quartet. Tall trees stretch toward the sky, creating a canopy overhead, and sunlight filters through, casting a warm, dappled glow on the forest floor. The aisle is lined extravagantly with candle-filled lanterns and flowers, a dreamy palette of creams and pinks. At the heart of the clearing stands an arch crafted from twined wood, adorned with even more flowers.It’s there that my beloved stands, flanked by Tristan and Finn, Taya and Maeve. Liam, our ring bearer, wiggles excitedly, waving at me from beside Tristan. I blow him a kiss, laughing when he does a little jump.

The string quartet shifts into Vivaldi’s “The Four Seasons: Spring.” I asked specifically for Max Richter’s euphoric, heart-piercing version which is so pretty I can barely get through it without crying. Our guests rise from the wooden chairs on either side of the aisle, looking back in expectation.

Dad squeezes our arms together, inclining his head toward mine. “You ready?”

My eyes lock on Lucky’s. He’s wearing a tailored dark green suit and a faint smile that sends butterflies fluttering through my entire body. “Yes,” I whisper.

There are so many people here, plenty from my side but mostlyfrom Lucky’s. The Kellys and Saoirse roll deep—guests flew in from all over the country and Ireland, too. I’ve gotten to know a lot of them over the past week as we prepared for this, and the support I feel now, the pure love, rolls over me in a warm wave.

If this damn song doesn’t make me cry, then the way Lucky is looking at me might, like nothing and no one else exists. I give him a wobbly smile, determined not to lose it. His face crumples a little as he tries to hold it together, and Tristan reaches out, squeezing his shoulder. A kaleidoscope of memories wheels through my mind, from the first time our eyes met to last night, when we made love. Everything that brought us to this moment, from the choices that we made to the ones that were made for us.

As Dad and I reach the altar, the music fades, leaving the forest reverentially quiet. Brushing a kiss across my cheek, he places my hand in Lucky’s. “Take care of her,” he murmurs.

Lucky nods, pulling him into a one-armed embrace, and leans to whisper in his ear. Smirking, my dad claps Lucky’s back as he steps away to take his seat. He wasn’t too sure about Lucky at first, but it didn’t take long for him to realize they’re a lot alike … in more ways than one.

Lucky squeezes my hand and leans close to me, his breath warm against my ear. “This is it, Bria. You ready?”

I squeeze back, nodding because I don’t trust myself to speak just yet. In the silence of the forest, punctuated by the occasional bird call, the priest begins. The soft cadence of his voice weaves around us like a protective spell, binding us together even before we exchange vows, which are traditional mixed with personal.

Tristan gives Liam a gentle push and he steps forward, presenting our rings with a shy smile. Lucky accepts them, squeezing his son’s shoulder before turning back to me.

Taking my hand, he slides a gold band engraved with today’s date onto my finger. “Bria, ‘a friend is one that knows you as you are, understands where you have been, accepts what you have become, and still, gently allows you to grow.’ You’re my best friend, my compass and my muse. I promise to put you first, to hold your hand when it gets tough, to bring you flowers, and to woo you with Shakespeare until the very end.” I snort, and laughter ripples through the crowd. “I love you.”

“Lucky,‘I saw that you were perfect, and so I loved you. Then I sawthat you were not perfect and I loved you even more’.”Clearing my throat, I slide a matching ring onto his finger. “I vow to be your confidante when you need an ear, and your soft place to fall when life gets too hard. I promise to analyze you until you actually do go crazy.” I bite back a smile. “And I promise to always, always be your partner in crime.”

We spendthe first part of our honeymoon at the Mandarin Oriental in Manhattan, indulging in fabulous restaurants, museums, Broadway shows, and strolls through Central Park. On the last day we drive to the Bronx so I can show him around my old neighborhood. After a day of cruising around, we visit Ma and Dad at the apartment. They take us to dinner at their favorite Dominican restaurant before we head back to the City.

A week later, with Liam in tow, we catch a nonstop flight from JFK to Dublin. It’s midnight when we arrive, the scent of peat and rain mingling in the air as we wait for a taxi. "Welcome to Ireland, mo chroí," Lucky says, giving me a tired smile over a sleeping Liam’s head. My stomach swoops. He doesn’t speak Gaelic much, if ever, but when he does it drives me wild.

Our taxi drops us at a hotel in the city center, an intimate boutique gem Sloane and Owen recommended. Dublin is all winding cobblestone streets, historic castles—Liam’s favorite—and cathedrals, and live music pouring from bustling pubs. We stuff ourselves with traditional Irish breakfasts and rich stouts and then walk it off along the River Liffey. Days later, we take a train to Cork, where the Kellys once had family. “They’re mostly so distant now, though,” he explains when I ask if we’ll meet any. “Most of the folks we’re close to are in Belfast.”

“That’s where I was born,” Liam reminds me, face glued to the window as our train whizzes through the countryside.

“I know! I can’t wait to see it.” I ruffle his hair, turning back to Lucky. “Like Aoife and Sean,” I say, referring to cousins who flew in for the wedding. We’re staying with them when we get to Belfast.

“Yeah, Sean’s already messaged me twice since we got here,” he says with a chuckle. “They can’t wait to show you around.”

In Cork, Lucky takes us to the iconic Blarney Castle, where we kiss the fabled stone for luck. Liam declines, more grossed out by kissing anything than being hung upside down. We ride double decker buses and picnic on a beach after going whale-watching. We eat freshly caught seafood at the English Market and stroll the River Lee, soaking in the city's picturesque views and art galleries. The night before we leave, we stop by a local jeweler and buy matching Claddagh rings.

---