Now let’s get to the part you’ve been waiting for:
The wedding.
Images
Matthew, Jack and Steven, my parents, James and I, arrive at St. Patrick’s Cathedral right on time. Although they rarely close the church to the public, for our event-and to accommodate the thousand-plus guests sitting in the pews-the powers that be agreed to do just that. The hefty “donation” I gave didn’t hurt either.
I keep an eye on my son as he runs up and down the aisle, stopping occasionally to bask in the attention of an adoring guest. Then I shake hands with Father Dougherty, the priest who’ll actually be doing the deed.
“How are you feeling this afternoon, Andrew? Are you ready?”
“I was born ready, Father.”
“That’s good to hear. Your bride’s limousine has just arrived, so you can take your place at the altar.”
There’s no anxiety-no nervousness or fear that I’m making a mistake. No cold feet. The only thing I feel is . . . excitement. Impatience.
My mother retrieves James and they head back to the vestibule. My father and I walk up the side aisle, toward the altar.
About halfway there, he stops me with a hand on my shoulder. His blue eyes, so much like my own, are filled with emotion. “If I haven’t told you before, I want to make sure you know-I’m so proud of you, Son. You’re a good man, you’re an amazing father, and I have no doubt you’ll be an outstanding husband. I’m so very proud, Drew.”
Then he hugs me. Tight and secure, the kind of embrace that tells me even though I’m married and a father-he’s still my dad and I’ll always be his son.
“That means a lot, Dad,” I say gruffly. “Thank you for being the best example of what a father, a husband, is supposed to be.”
We pat each other’s back. Then he taps my biceps. “Now get up there before Kate changes her mind.”
I smirk. “Highly unlikely.”
He shrugs. “Better to be safe than sorry. I didn’t think your mother would try backing out, either.”
Haven’t heard that one before. “Mom balked at marrying you?”
He slaps my back again. “That’s a story for another day, Son. Go get yourself married-and enjoy every second of it.”
With that, he walks to the back of the church. I meet Matthew and Steven at the altar. “You got the rings?” I ask Matthew.
He taps his pocket. “Safe and sound.”
When the pianist begins playing the prelude-“Angels Watching” by the O’Neill Brothers-Steven announces, “That’s our cue.”
Matthew grins my way and imitates the Terminator: “I’ll be back.” They both walk down the side aisle to the back of the church.
I’m left standing alone. Waiting.
I nod to the watching guests. One hand rests at my side, the other is folded across my lower back. I inhale a deep breath and blow it out slowly.
The string quartet in the orchestra bay begins to play Canon in D by Pachelbel.
It’s game time.
The first to appear in the doorway are our parents. My father looks distinguished as he stands in the middle, my mother, wearing a plum gown, on one arm; Kate’s mother, in deep blue, is on the other. All three wear beaming smiles as they proceed down the aisle. Before my mother enters the pew, she blows me a kiss. She used to do the same thing when I was a kid, as I ran out the door to school-before I was old enough to ask her to stop.
I smile back at her meaningfully.
Next are my sister and Steven. Alexandra looks gorgeous in the strapless, burgundy bridesmaid gown Kate chose. An ivory shawl demurely covers her shoulders: her blond hair is pinned up and curled, not a strand out of place. Her arm rests comfortably, confidently, through Steven’s. They glance at each other and I just know they’re thinking of their own wedding. When they reach the altar, Steven kisses Lexi sweetly, then they part and stand on their respective sides.
Jack and Erin follow, arm in arm. Jack winks at a female guest as he strolls down the aisle and Erin smiles joyfully. Brightly. If you ever wanted a good example of how a no-strings-attached hookup should be done, Jack and Erin are it. No bad feelings, no awkwardness, just friendly, physical attraction.
After they reach the altar, it’s Matthew and Dee-Dee’s turn-the best man and matron of honor. Wearing the same gown as my sister-instead of one of the whacked-out ensembles she typically dresses in-Delores looks really good. She holds Matthew’s arm and sways her hips in time with the music, making him laugh at her silly exuberance. When they reach the altar, she looks me up and down-then gives me a thumbs-up.
I nod at her silent compliment.
Delores stands beside my sister, and Matthew takes his place to my left.
One more couple to go before Kate makes her entrance. This couple will steal the whole fucking show. I knew it, Kate knew it, and neither of us minded at all.
Mackenzie and James.
The flower girl and the ring bearer. The gold mine of every wedding photographer who ever worked.
Mackenzie’s dress is white lace with cap sleeves. Her long hair is pulled up at the sides with white daisies woven into the crown of blond braids. She’s old enough to be called beautiful but still enough of a kid to be called adorable. Her blue eyes shine as she waves to me from the end of the aisle.
I wave back.
She takes my son’s hand and together they make their way to me. James looks impressively lovable in his own custom Armani tux. He’s surprisingly well behaved-keeping pace with Mackenzie, holding his ring-bearer pillow straight, grinning for all the cameras taking their picture.
When they reach the altar, James drops Mackenzie’s hand, ditches his pillow, and runs straight to me. “Daddy!”
I scoop him up and look into his big, brown eyes.
“Is good?” he asks.
“You did great, buddy.” I kiss his temple. “Go sit with Grandma and Pop now, okay?”
“Otay.”
I set him down and my parents receive him into their pew.
Then I straighten up. The starting notes of the “Wedding March” fill the cathedral. All the guests stand and turn toward the closed double doors.
The wooden doors open. And the air rushes from my lungs.
Because she’s breathtaking. More stunning than I’d imagined-and my imagination is pretty fucking active.
Kate’s a vision in white-strapless, a sweetheart neckline with just a teasing taste of cleavage, fitted around the middle, accenting her tiny waist. Lace covers the delicate swell of her hips, flaring out behind her in a majestic train. An Irish-lace veil adorns her head, and her hair falls in shiny, dark waves beneath it. Her makeup is light, just enough to emphasize her flawless skin, full lips, and those big, dark eyes that captivated me the moment I saw them.
She swallows hard and gazes around the crowded cathedral, looking uneasy. Anxious. Until she sees me. At the altar-waiting for her.
She holds my eyes for a second, then slowly, surely, she smiles.
And it’s perfect.
My view of the world blurs, and I don’t give a shit if that sounds pussified. It’s true. And deserved. My chest tightens with tenderness, with the sanctity of this moment.
The music soars as Kate holds George’s arm, and he escorts her down the aisle. I can’t take my eyes off her, and her gaze never leaves my face. When they finally arrive, I shake George’s hand and he moves into the pew next to Carol.
Kate offers me her hand, and, as I did the first time we met, I bring it to my lips and kiss it reverently.
“You’re exquisite,” I tell her softly. “I . . . have no words.”
Her smile doesn’t falter. “I guess there really is a first time for everything.”
It’s as if everyone else, the whole damn church, just fades away. And there’s only the two of us. I cup her cheek and smooth her lip with my thumb. Then I lean forward and kiss her-softly and slowly and brimming with feeling.
After a few seconds, Father Dougherty clears his throat. Loudly. “That part comes later, son.”
I end the kiss and turn to the priest, still holding Kate’s hand.
Kate blushes and the guests’ laughter echoes off the walls.
I clear my throat. “Sorry, Father. Patience has never really been my strong suit.”
“Well, in this case, I don’t blame you.” He focuses on Kate. “You look lovely.”
“Thank you, Father.” She passes her bouquet of white daisies and roses to Delores.
“Shall we get on with it, then?” Father Dougherty asks.
From the first row, James yells, “Ready, set, go!”
Again, laughter ripples through the congregation.
Father Dougherty says, “I’ll take that as a yes.”
The wedding ceremony proceeds without incident-the prayers, the readings, the lighting of the unity candle. Then the moment you’ve all been waiting for arrives.
New Book: Back Home to Marry Off Myself
Loredana’s father left the family for his mistress, leaving them to fend for themselves abroad. When life was at its toughest, her father showed up with “good news” after 8 years of absence: To marry off Loredana to a paralyzed son of the wealthy Mendelsohn family.