Lissa and Jaimie were both Emily’s maids of honor; her sisters-in-law and Laurel were her bridesmaids. Her brothers were Marco’s groomsmen and Khan was his best man.
“Made for each other,” people whispered, and when Emily and Marco repeated the vows administered by Judge Arnold, who had known Emily all her life, some of the women sniffed back tears.
“They’re right together,” Jaimie told Lissa a couple of hours later, when they took a break from dancing by escaping to a corner of the big living room.
“They are,” Lissa said. She looked at her sister. “You think it’ll ever be like that for either of us, James?
A funny look swept over Jaimie’s face but it happened so quickly that Lissa decided she’d imagined it.
“Not for me,” she said, and Lissa grinned.
“Not for me, either. I mean, life’s too full of choices, right?”
Jaimie nodded. “Sure,” she said, and before Lissa could say anything else, Jaimie grabbed a pair of full champagne flutes from the tray carried by a passing waiter and handed one to her sister. “Skoal,” she said, “and l’chaim and do svidanya, or whatever it is you’re supposed to say at a time like this.”
The sisters knocked back the champagne. Then, laughing, they boogied out to the center of the dance floor.
A little while later, Emily went up the stairs to the loft.
“Here it comes,” somebody yelled.
The drummer of the six-piece band that had kept everyone dancing all evening did a drumroll and Emily turned her back and tossed her bouquet over her head.
Jaimie was the only single woman who didn’t cheer and jump up to try to snag the flowers and yet, with unerring accuracy, they came straight at her.
“Catch it,” somebody yelled.
Purely on instinct, she did. She stared at the baby pink and white orchids for a long minute and then she gave a dramatic shudder and pushed the flowers into Lissa’s hands while all the guests laughed.
Upstairs, Emily changed into a pale blue cashmere dress and an ankle length, sapphire-blue cashmere coat. Marco changed into khakis, a dark blue shirt and his leather bomber jacket. He was on his way down when the Wilde brothers and Khan caught up to him.
“So,” Travis said gruffly, “you married Em.”
He grinned. “Damned right I did.”
“She’s one hell of a lady,” Caleb said.
Marco nodded. He could see where this was going.
“You’ll remember to treat her right
,” Jacob said.
Khan didn’t say anything. He just stood there, arms folded, a determined expression on his face.
Marco looked them over, his eyes meeting and holding the eyes of each man.
“Here’s the deal,” he said quietly, the phrase so properly American that only his slight accent gave him away. “I adore Emily. I will always adore her. I will care for her and protect her and make her happy every day of our lives.” His mouth flattened. “But if any one of you goons ever lays a hand on me again, I’ll show you exactly what it means to have been born in Sicily.” He looked into the eyes of each of them again. “Capisci?”
His new brothers and his old friend grinned.
“Got it,” they said, and they all shook hands and slapped each other on the back and, what the hell, ended up exchanging bear hugs because from now on, they were a family.
******
The newlyweds flew to New York on Marco’s plane.
The flight wasn’t long enough. How could it be when there was a private bedroom where they could spend the hours in each other’s arms?