Page 91 of Waiting Game

“Are you sure you wanna do this, bunny?” he asked.

I looked up at the large, cream coloured building in front of us.

TheRådhuset- City Hall.

We stood on the steps together as we waited. Five more minutes.

Five more minutes until our appointment.

“Of course I do,” I smiled up at him, “why? Getting cold feet Mr. Bianchi?”

“Absolutely not, Ms. Santino,” he chuckled, and wrapped me in his arms again.

“Come on then,” I said, pulling him along, up the steps towards the front doors. We had filed the paperwork weeks ago, but today it was happening.

It had been put off for far too long, but I was finally going to marry Ren.

Anyone else might have thought that we were rushing into things, but I knew that this was no rash decision. I could say with confidence that he was my person, and the guy that I wanted to spend my life with. He stole my first kiss at twelve years old, and now I was going to steal his last name - well, kind of.

“Laura and Dean?” The lady behind the counter called our fake names, heavy with a Swedish accent.

“That’s us,” I piped up.

Those were the identities that Rome had come up with for us before we fled Australia. We knew when we got back that our marriage would not be recognised, but I also knew that if we were to marry in Australia, the wedding would not be just for us.

It would be another grand display of the power of The Family, and not about the love that Ren and I shared. I knew that wedding would come eventually, but for now, this was what I wanted. I wanted it to be me, and him (and the two witnesses provided to us by the Swedish Government).

We had only been in Gothenburg for three weeks when Lorenzo got on one knee in the middle of the cafe down the street from our tiny new apartment. He proposed to me over breakfast, surrounded by strangers who applauded when I very quickly said yes.

The six months that we had been here in this city, had been some of the best of my life. And with Ren, it was easy to forget that we were on the run from a Bikie gang who wanted us all dead.

Antoni had set us up with enough cash that neither of us had to work, and we spent most of the time exploring. But after a few months, I got bored, and we eventually took on some part time work at the cafe where Ren had proposed. We were still careful about making friends. Ren especially was suspicious of everyone, and was finding it hard to let down his guard.

We were lead into a room by the blonde woman, and she gave us a friendly nod before she left us alone and closed the door behind us.

“I’m dying to know what you chose to wear,” Ren smiled, tugging at my thick coat.

I smiled and undid the tie, slipping it off slowly.

It was just a simple dress that I had found at a local thrift shop. It was a plain, cream coloured cotton dress with crocheted lace sewn onto the front. When I saw it, I could instantly picture myself wearing it. Ren smiled down at me as I revealed the dress to him, and he took my coat into his arms.

“You’re gorgeous,” he shook his head, looking me up and down.

“So are you,” I smiled, reaching up and cupping his cheek.

He had grown his beard out more now, and wore it thick and bushy instead of his maintained stubble. It only made his emerald green eyes pop more, and I was growing to love it. He wore his black, leather jacket, with a white dress shirt underneath, and looked as beautiful as ever.

“I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you,” he said quietly, fiddling with the lace on my dress.

A man appeared in the front of the room, and cleared his throat to alert us to his presence. He gestured with his hand for Ren and I to approach, and Ren took my hand in his with one last look before he led me down the aisle.

Two smiling faces stood in the corner of the room, watching us as we approached the man who was to marry us. I assumed they were our witnesses. It was special, not knowing a single soul in the room except for the man I was about to tie myself to.

The man greeted us both, and began the speeches which I could barely focus on - not with the way that Ren was looking at me. With that smile on his face as if I was the only person in the world, the only woman for him.

Snapping me back into reality, Ren grabbed my hand and delicately slipped a ring onto it.

“Do you, Laura Francis, take Dean Gregory to be your lawfully wedded husband?” the celebrant said, with a Swedish accent that was much stronger than that of the receptionist.

---