“It’s okay.” I smile at my friend.
Luca’s mom joins us, and together we spend the rest of the afternoon getting ready.
My heart is full, and the tears keep threatening to fall as the time to walk down the aisle comes closer.
The past three months have been both difficult and extraordinary. When my cast came off, I was given a leg brace for support. It was a huge relief and although I can’t stand for long periods, being able to walk is fantastic and something I’ll never take for granted again.
Some function has returned to the ring finger of my right hand. I can’t straighten it all the way, but anything is better than nothing. I took the win and made peace with the rest.
Even though there were hard times, Luca never wavered. Instead, his love for me grew, and he made a point of showing me every day that I’m the only woman for him.
I’m lucky.
I have everything my heart desires and so much more.
After our mothers and Violet leave the room, Dad appears in the doorway. Our eyes meet in the mirror’s reflection, and my throat instantly tightens with overwhelming emotion.
“I can’t cry,” I warn him. “Don’t say anything. Just walk me down the aisle…” When I turn around, I have to breathe as Dad’s eyebrows draw together and tears start to shine in his eyes.
“Christ, printsessa,” he rasps. “You look like a vision.”
I suck in deep breaths, fanning my face with my hand. “My makeup.”
Pride fills Dad’s eyes as he holds out his arm for me to take. I place my hand in the crook of his arm, and we leave the room, both doing our best to breathe through the emotions.
We stop just shy of the sliding doors.
“We’re ready,” he tells Violet, who quickly gestures to the intimate orchestra Dad arranged for today.
The opening notes of Pachelbel, Canon in D Major, start to fill the air.
“Oh God,” I groan, blinking furiously.
Dad sucks in a deep breath. “It’s been my greatest honor raising you, Mariya.”
“Daddy,” I whimper, the tears starting to flow.
“I might be giving you to Luca, but you’ll always be mine.”
I can only nod as we step through the sliding doors. My eyes lock on Luca, and then there’s no stopping the tears.
Chapter 42
Luca
I fidget with the rose gold cufflinks and glance at Viktor.
“You’ve got this,” he offers me some encouragement.
Mom comes down the aisle, and seeing her, has me swallowing hard. She takes a seat next to Dad, then waves at me.
I smile at my parents, so glad Mariya and I are getting to celebrate this day with them.
When Aunt Bella comes to take a seat, my stomach tightens into a ball of nerves.
“Fuck, you can face a group of armed men, but marrying Mariya has you looking like a nervous wreck,” Viktor mutters under his breath.
I let out a chuckle right as elegant piano notes silence the guests.
I turn to face the aisle, and when my eyes settle on the sliding doors, Mariya and Uncle Alexei step out. A cello joins the pianist, the music so fucking perfect as my bride takes her first step toward me.
The punch to my heart knocks the breath from me, and for a moment, I sway from the intensity.
God, she’s so beautiful. I try to memorize the sight of Mariya in the black wedding dress, but I can’t focus on anything but her face and the emotion clearly visible with the tears spiraling over her cheeks.
My throat strains again, and when the woman I love more than anything locks eyes with me, I can’t hold the emotions in.
A tear escapes, but I couldn’t give a fuck. I’m marrying Mariya Koslov, the badass princess, the strongest woman, my vulnerable love.
Uncle Alexei stops right before the end of the aisle, which was not planned. Knowing what he wants, I step down the small podium and walk toward them.
When I stop in front of them, he says, “I’m giving you my life, Luca.”
“Which I’ll guard with my own.”
Mariya lets out a sob as her father takes hold of her hand and holds it out to me. “I’m not losing a daughter but gaining a son.”
Christ.
I take my bride’s hand, and locking eyes with her, I can only stare at her. “You take my breath away, mia regina.”
I lead her to the podium, where Viktor looks just as emotional as me.
When we’re facing the priest, I give Mariya’s hand a squeeze. A shortened version of the ceremony starts, so we don’t keep Mariya standing for too long.
When it’s time for our vows, we turn to face each other.
She flicks a tear away from her cheek, then says, “I don’t know why brides wear makeup we cry it all off.”
There’s a wave of chuckles from our families and friends.
Mariya lifts her gaze to mine, and overflowing with love, she says, “I want you to promise me that every morning when I wake up, you’ll be there because I won’t survive a day without you.” She pauses as she sucks in deep breaths, her voice straining as she continues, “I don’t want the sun to rise without you, so could you please stay with me until we’re old and we’ve lived every day this life gave us.” A tear trickles down her cheek. “And when our time comes, I want you to hold my hand because I’m certain God negotiates, and we can get another life together out of the man upstairs.”