Page 57 of Single Malt Drama
Nico sighed and eased away from me. “If you’re having second thoughts, we don’t have to go through with it.”
My second thoughts have nothing to do with marrying you. “That’s not it, Nic. I want to do this, but I was standing up there thinking about how much I wanted Dante and the rest of my brothers by my side. I thought maybe you were feeling the same way about the wedding.”
Father Brian cleared his throat. “Shall we begin?”
“Like I said, you are enough. The rest is just for show.” Nico’s expression softened as she looped her arm in mine and turned toward the priest. “Yes, Father. We’re ready.”
My brain stumbled over her words like a drunk walking on cobblestone. I couldn’t decide what she’d meant. I was enough for her because this wasn’t real, or the simple ceremony was enough because she’d walk out of the church as my wife.
My distraction proved to be a blessing when Father Brian launched into the prayers and liturgy and homily. The usually boring part of the ceremony flew by.
Everything was going well until Father Brian asked, “Marco and Nicolina, have you come here to enter into Marriage without coercion, freely and wholeheartedly?”
Nico tensed and glanced at me.
I nodded.
We both sighed and said, “I have.”
The priest arched a brow. “Marco, do you take Nicolina for your lawful wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do you part?”
“I do.” I turned to her and tried to convey that I’d meant it. Not for six months or a year. I would love her until I took my last breath, maybe longer.
Father Brian asked her the same question.
Nico held my gaze. “I do.”
We continued to stare at each other, and it seemed to me we had an entire conversation in the time it took the priest to bless the rings and douse them with holy water.
Nico gasped when I slipped the diamond ring onto her finger. “How? When?”
Grinning, I whispered, “In the airport in Rome. Do you like it?”
“I love it…it’s just like my mother’s.” She glanced up and met my gaze. “You remembered?”
“I remember everything about you, Nic.” I squeezed her hands. “Does it fit?”
She nodded.
Father Brian cleared his throat.
Nico’s cheeks burned bright as she fumbled with my plain gold band. It finally slid into place on her third try.
Father Brian launched into the intercessions, followed by the Lord’s Prayer, and the blessings, but I barely heard a word he said over the blood rushing behind my eardrums.
“You may now go in peace.” Father Brian made the sign of the cross.
Wait a cotton-pickin’ second. I arched a brow. “Did you forget the best part?”
Laughing, Nico elbowed me in the side.
Flustered, my bribed priest quickly added, “You may now kiss.”
Moving slowly to burn the moment into my memory, I cupped Nico’s face. This close, I could see the hints of amber in her dark brown eyes and the faint scar on the bridge of her nose. The scents of vanilla and flowers and something unique to her about drove me crazy, but I took my time.
Nico inched closer, and the wisps of hair framing her face tickled the back of my hand.
Unable to resist the quiver of her chin or the nervous lick of her lips, I pressed my mouth to hers. If I had any doubt about my feelings for her before, they vanished when she sighed that happy sigh of hers. I poured years of longing into the kiss—every un-held hand, every un-caressed cheek, every un-whispered I love you.