Page 86 of London Inked Boys: The Complete Trilogy
“The paperwork has all gone through on my father’s house. It belongs to me now, and I’ve decided to sell it. You’d be amazed just how much a little coastal property in Cornwall goes for these days. They’re not quite London prices, and we won’t be able to buy a similar property up here, but it’s enough to get us a small flat to start us off.”
I widen my eyes at him. “Are you serious?”
He nods, his lips pressed together. “Deadly. We can start house hunting, if you want. Or flat hunting, at least. Find place of our own.”
I squeal. “Oh, my God, Rocco. That’s amazing. Our very own place. No more flatmates or parents.”
“Nope.”
I think the grin is going to split my cheeks. “I don’t think I’ve ever been this happy.”
He returns the grin. “Then my job is done.”
17
SOPHIA
We decide there’s no reason for a long engagement. Life has already taught us we needed to grab what we have with both hands, and ther’s no point in waiting for a possible perfect moment that may never happen. Life is too delicate to waste in waiting. We need to live for the moment.
A month later, our wedding day dawns bright and sunny, but not too hot, a perfect autumn day in London. We’re having a small service at a registry office in South-East London, followed by a get-together at a local pub. It isn’t going to be a big, flashy event, and we’re both more than happy with that. We don’t spend the night prior to the wedding apart, either, not wanting to spend a single night where we aren’t together.
My ivory dress has long, lace sleeves, and my red hair is loose in curls around my face. My father is to give me away, while my mother sits in the front row, wiping tears from her face. Everyone else from the tattoo studio,Carved in Ink,is here, too. Art sits with Tess, his arm slung around her shoulder, while Kane and Holly sit with Holly’s son between them, the boy looking dapper in a little suit of his own.
Rocco looks insanely handsome in a dark blue, three-piece suit, and my heart swells at the sight of him. He takes my hand infront of the registrar—a rotund woman in her fifties—and leans in to whisper in my ear.
“I’ve never seen anything more beautiful.”
His eyes shine with unshed tears, and I have to swallow my own tears of happiness.
The service goes perfectly, with Rocco and me grinning stupidly at each other as we say our vows, and then we slip a ring onto each other’s fingers. I won’t be able to keep the ring on for any length of time, but Art has offered to do us the honour of tattooing the wedding rings on so we both have something permanent that I won’t have to take off.
“You may kiss the bride,” says the registrar, and so Rocco does, his lips finding mine, kissing me firmly, before sweeping me up in his arms and swinging me around.
Whoops of encouragement come from Art and Kane in the audience.
We leave the registry office amid a hail of rice and catch a black cab the rest of the way to the pub where the gathering is being held. The pub is putting on a buffet for us, with a number of my favourites specially made for my diet. I insisted on a lobster terrain and duck confit to remind us of our first date when we’d been reunited. Everyone tucks in, enjoying the food and toasting the happiness of the newlyweds.
I nurse a glass of champagne, though I’ve barely taken a sip yet. I don’t need alcohol right now. My happiness is like a ball of joy swelling in my chest, and I can’t stop myself staring up at Rocco, amazed that the boy from my childhood is now my husband.
“I can’t believe how incredibly lucky I am,” he tells me, pulling me into his arms and nuzzling my neck.
I give a sigh of happiness. “I’m the lucky one. I never imagined this would happen for me. It all feels like a dream.”
Rocco’s friends from the shop beckon him to the bar, and I let my new husband go, but not before giving him another kiss. I’ve barely had the chance to speak to anyone else and don’t want to be rude to my guests. There will be plenty of time for fawning over my husband later.
I realise someone’s missing.
“Where’s Mum?” I ask my father, who’s sitting at one of the small round tables.
“She got a phone call and went outside to take it.”
“Oh, right. Is everything okay?”
“Yes, I think so.” His gaze drifts over my shoulder. “Here she is now.”
I turn to see my mother pushing her way back through the pub. Right away, I can see something has happened. My mother’s eyes are glossed with tears, her expression strained. The conversation around us dies away as others pick up that something’s happening. An arm slips around my waist, and I glance up to see Rocco— my new husband—frowning down at me.
“What’s going on?”
