Page 97 of Hold You Close
He stands a little straighter and nods. “I can do that, Uncle Ian.”
I knew he could.
A moment later, London, Morgan, and Ruby are in front of us. “Are you sure? No backing out once we walk through those doors.”
“There’s no backing out—ever,” I tell her.
London’s smile grows bigger. “I love you, Ian.”
“I love you.”
“Mr. Chase and Ms. Parish?” The very scantily dressed lady calls us from behind the counter. “You’re up.”
London gives me a brief kiss. “I’ll see you at the end of the aisle?”
“You’re damn right you will.”
Chris and I head around to the front of the chapel. It’s crazy, but I’m not nervous. I keep waiting for the anxiety to kick in, but it’s completely absent. All I feel is excitement and happiness. This is right and about damn time. I want to make her my wife and then take her home to consummate the fuck out of it—and her.
The music begins and Morgan walks in first. She looks so grown up. I remember when she was born, holding her in my arms, wondering what my sister was thinking, having another kid, but the first time that little girl wrapped her arms around my leg, I got it. She’s always been special to me, the first niece in the family. She was always watching and observing the world around her. Then when she started talking, we understood she’d been keeping notes to give us all later.
When Morgan gets to the front, London appears, holding Ruby’s hand.
I know I just saw her a moment ago.
I get that nothing has changed, but she looks even more beautiful than before.
The sun is beaming in from the window behind her, casting light all around. She’s brilliant, and I don’t think I’ll ever forget this moment.
She continues toward me with a smile that knocks me on my ass.
“Hi,” she says as she stands before me.
“Hi.”
“Hi!” Ruby says and we all laugh.
“Hi, pipsqueak.”
Elvis walks up to the front, and I don’t even give a shit how cheesy and cliché this is. All that matters is London and me.
He goes on about love and marriage, but I don’t hear a word as I stare at my bride.
“Ian.” She nudges me.
Then I recall something about ‘do I take’ . . . “I do.”
“Do you, London, take Ian for better or worse?”
“I do.”
“By the power vested in me by the state of Nevada, I now pronounce you husband and wife.”
I know what comes next and I don’t need his permission.
I wrap my arms around her, leaning her back, and kiss the shit out of her. She holds on tight and I refuse to let go. She’s mine now—and forever.
Epilogue
