Mr. Beautiful (Up in the Air 4)

Without even one ounce of shame, in front of all of those people, I said I do and kissed my groom.

We kissed like we were just learning how.  Like the sensation of my mouth pressed to his mouth was a new invention.  I melded my lips to his and kissed him like there was nothing else, nothing to precede or follow, like this was the final act, the only one.  This kiss was a vow.  A promise.  It was the sacrament and the ceremony that bound us together.

This kiss was all.

And then.

We threw one hell of a party.

It was a celebration of pure joy.

We danced.  We drank.  We howled at the moon.  We reveled.  We loved.

The party lasted four crazy, wonderful days.

I'd never been so happy.  Never felt so at peace with every part of whom I was, what I'd been through, where I was going.  Never been so accepting of all that was me.

Bianca gave the best man toast at the reception.  It was short and succinct.

She hated hated public speaking, but didn't hesitate to do it for me.

She held up her champagne glass and turned to me, her eyes bright.  She was breathtaking in a clingy light blue dress with a simple cut, her hair loose and tousled with the ocean breeze.

"I think everyone knows that Stephan and I have been attached at the hip for quite a while now.  We've had each other's backs since we were teenagers.  A decade and counting."

There was cheering, and she smiled at me, love shining in her eyes, so clear and true I could have reached out and touched that love, held it in my hands.

"I've always been proud to call you my best friend," she spoke directly to me.  "Always.  Unspeakably proud.  You are the kindest person I have ever met.  Your kindness has healed me.  No one could ever have a more loving best friend.  Your love has quite literally kept me breathing on this earth, more than once."

Of course, I was tearing up.  Bianca rarely spoke like this, and never in front of other people.  I knew how hard it must have been, and that made it all the more special.

"You've always accepted me," she continued.  "Categorically.  Unconditionally, you have embraced all that I am, every part of me, the good and the bad, the hard and the soft.  That acceptance saved me.  We had it rough for quite some time, you and I, but having you with me, having you love me, having you there to take care of me—we both know I would not be here without you.

"But as good as you are," her voice caught, and she took a steadying breath to continue, "as good as you are, as worthy of love, we both know that it was a long journey for you to finally learn to love and accept yourself."

She turned to Javier, her crystal clear eyes boring into his bright shining ones, tears running down his face.    "I hold you solely responsible for helping him complete that journey.  Thank you, Javier.  Thank you so much.  I can't express in words, can't ever properly illustrate the level of gratitude I feel for what you've done, for helping my dearest friend finally learn to accept and love himself.  I'm so thankful, so happy to welcome you into our family."

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

MY TORN LOYALTIES

PRESENT

JAMES

I wiped my mouth with a napkin, setting it down carefully, looking across the table at my friend.

We often met up for lunch, so I'd had no reason to see this coming.

I stared at Tristan.  He was one of my closest friends, and I wondered why he was doing this to me, putting me in this position right before my wedding.

I sighed.  "Tristan, this is Bianca's department—"

"Bullshit.  She hates organizing this stuff.  Either you or the wedding planner are handling these kinds of details."

I grimaced, rubbing at my temple, feeling torn by both a need to protect Danika and respect her wishes, and an acute sympathy for Tristan and the way I knew he felt about her.  I was one of the few that knew what had happened between them.

"I don't think this is going to go the way you think it is," I told him, my tone careful.  Gentle.

"I'm not asking you to control that part.  That part is my burden.  I'm just asking you to seat me by her.  Just give me something, some contact, an opening to get her to speak to me again."  He swallowed, looking away.  "Please."

How could I say no to that?  There was an entreaty in his voice that I could not deny.

I tried one last time, for Danika.  "Tristan, why can't you just let this go?"

But I knew.  Even after six long years, years of bitter separation, an endless, silent, hostile standoff all laying heavy across each of those years, Tristan was a man obsessed.

"Listen," he started haltingly.  "Even if she never—even if I, ugh, there are some things I need to change.  I . . . I'm not who I was.  I'm not the junkie that broke her heart and ruined her life.  I know I'm not.  But I need her to know that.  Her eyes break my heart every time I look at them.  If nothing else, I need to look in those eyes and see that she understands that I've changed."

I nodded.  "Closure," I tried.

He sliced an impatient hand through the air.  "No, not f**king closure.  Closure is bullshit.  A f**king myth.  What I'm looking for is peace.  Anything approaching absolution."

"You only love like this once," Tristan explained to me. "I don't know about women, but I don't think men were made to survive this twice. That's okay, though.  It's worth it. Even if it all blows up in your face, it's worth it. Don't take one single second of it for granted."