Page 158 of Shattered Veil
Ella
Jillian offered to postpone her wedding ceremony that following Saturday for me. It didn’t make sense for the shadow I casted on the O’Rourkes with my father’s sin to stretch any further.
It was the least I could do to bless Eoghan and Jillian moving forward with their party, and not inconvenience hundreds of people, especially those who flew in. The sad talk of the party is that Balor’s parents didn’t make the trip.
Saturday is beautiful, and Jillian stuns in a lace and crystal mermaid dress with a train that must be close to ten feet long.
Shea, my soon-to-be sister, stays in lockstep with us the whole day, helping me get around. I’m grateful it’s still chilly out, since I’m wearing a long-sleeve dress that covers most of my bandages. I continue to heal while I’m being prepped for skin grafts.
Looking around the wedding, like most single women, I think about what I want mine to be like. It’s a race on two fronts. To heal enough to wear my dream wedding dress and to not have a basketball tummy.
But my dream of wearing my mother’s gown is dead.
Balor, dressed in a finely cut suit, keeps a gentle hand on my waist at all times. It’s the one place that doesn’t hurt. Every flinching pain reminds me material things don’t matter. I’m alive.
That Balor had never killed anyone had been a badge of honor he’d held on to. Proud he never had to commit that kind of sin. He proved his value early on to his father with his technical skills and wasn’t forced to do their dad’s dirty work on the streets like his brothers.
He ended that streak for me. I would have preferredmy father to kill Wes and then spend his life making up for his sins to me. But he selfishly took that away from me.
Instead, Balor made the sacrifice, and will live with that kill on his conscience for the rest of his life. To further reinforce what we have, he tattooed my name along his collarbone. Since he mostly wears button-downs open at the neck, it’s visible.
It’s like I branded him and he’s mine. When I asked why he chose that location, he admitted that Lachlan got his wife’s name tattooed above his dick. “You know you own my dick. Now you know you own my heart,” Balor said.
I told him about the tattoo I want on my fingers. He loved the idea, but asked me to wait. My health comes before his possessiveness.
Next week, I have my first appointment with a therapist to make sense of my mixed feelings. How a lifetime of love from my dad weighs against a couple of years of betrayal and one utterly horrible day.
“You look tired, baby,” Balor says, a few hours into the celebration.
Any other time, we might be getting busy in the bathroom, but I’m not ready. My body isn’t ready. My heart? It’s all-in. I’ve moved into his townhouse, and soon we’ll start decorating one of the spare bedrooms into the nursery.
The babies are absolutely fine. Tough O’Rourke genes.
“Let’s get you home,” Balor says, taking my hand.
“We should start saying our goodbyes.” I suck in a breath, considering that can take an hour.
“Ever hear of the Irish exit?”
I laugh. “Literally?”
“No one will judge. They know what it took for you to be here.” He presses his lips to my forehead.
His words carry a few different meanings. What it tookfor us to be together.
Luck, patience, trust, and shattering the veil to Balor’s heart.
EPILOGUE TWO
Ella
Wedding dress shopping is supposed to be fun. No, a ball. The bomb. The shopping event every woman dreams of. Not for me, since I can’t wear my mother’s dress.
“Let’s find something that looks similar,” Jillian says, fingering dresses on a rack while I stand idly by in a short, white satin robe.
She came with me when my two besties werebothbusy. Odd.
Hannah and Val came to visit me at Balor’s house, stunned at what happened. But they support my decision to marry him.