“We have white jasmine sparkling tea, too,” Haven chimed in. “And vignette wine country sodas. They look just like champagne but are alcohol free.”
Carmine sighed and set his glass down without taking a drink, not liking the turn the conversation was taking. It was an open bar for the guests—Corrado’s gift to them, he had said—but Carmine was still banned from drinking in the place.
They stopped discussing it when everyone had their plates. Carmine picked up his fork and poked at the food, his stomach queasy. His palms were sweaty and he started shaking his leg under the table, feeling uncomfortable in his own skin.
The compulsion to drink still lingered in Carmine. He craved the liquor, his body screaming for just a little taste to keep it satiated. He could practically feel the burn in his throat, needing a little of that warmth in his chest again for old times’ sake . . . just enough to keep the panic attack at bay.
He knew that didn’t work from experience, though, because he had given in to it before. It begged for a tiny sip but that was never enough, because once he got it, he wouldn’t be able to stop. A sip turned into two, which turned into an entire bottle, which eventually led to waking up the next morning with a splitting headache, a very pissed off boss, and no recollection of what the fuck happened the night before.
d Haven into the church and they paused at the beginning of the aisle, giving her a moment to take it all in. Her vision blurred from dizziness, the sight before her overwhelming. The pews were packed full of people, some of whom she didn’t recognize, and they all stood up the moment they entered. She knew a lot of them weren’t there for her, the members of the organization and their families, but she didn’t mind. They came for Carmine, and out of respect for the man beside her.
Haven glanced toward the front, her eyes falling upon Carmine. He stood frozen in spot, a look of wonder on his face. Haven lost the battle against her tears, a few streaming down her cheeks as they started down the aisle.
Corrado let go of Haven when they reached the front, nodding at Carmine before making his way over to the front pew with Celia. The music stopped and the priest said a brief prayer, followed by a collective shuffling as everyone sat back down. Haven handed Tess her bouquet to hold as Carmine continued to stare at her, happiness radiating from him in waves. She scanned him quickly, something she always did when she saw him . . . always looking for injuries, making sure he remained intact, and she laughed when her eyes fell upon his feet.
“Nike’s?” she whispered. “What happened to your shoes?”
His smirk grew. “I forgot them.”
Her tears continued to fall. He quickly brushed a few of them away while the priest started addressing them. “Carmine and Haven, have you come here freely and without reservation to give yourselves to each other in marriage?”
“Yes,” they said simultaneously.
“Will you honor each other as man and wife for the rest of your lives?”
“Yes,” they said again, not even having to think about it.
“This isn’t customary, but the bride and groom have asked to be able to speak and the church has happily agreed to grant their request.”
The priest glanced between Carmine and Haven curiously and she cleared her throat, trying to get the lump that was forming to disappear. “The first time you asked me to marry you was three years ago. You told me it didn’t have to be that day, or the next day, or even that year. You just wanted me to swear I would when I was ready. I said yes, of course, and I meant it with everything in me. We were young and maybe we were naïve, thinking we had it all figured out, but one thing I never doubted was that we were meant to be.”
Haven paused to wipe her cheeks as more tears spilled from her eyes. “When I first met you I wasn’t sure what to think. You were nothing like anyone I’d ever met before. The things you made me feel were scary, and I wanted nothing more than to stay away from you, but I couldn’t. I was drawn to you. You gave me hope. You believed in me and helped me, and most of all, you loved me. Me. Out of all the people in the world, you picked me. I was used to being overlooked, used to being invisible, but you saw me. I wouldn’t be the person I am today without you. I love you, Carmine Marcello DeMarco, and I want you to know I’m ready now. I’m ready to spend the rest of my life with you.”
“Sempre,” he whispered, choking on the word. He was trying to keep his composure, not wanting to crack in front of so many people.
“Sempre.” Haven meant it with every fiber of her being. He was hers forever.
“I’m sure you remember our first encounter, the morning in the kitchen in North Carolina, and what a disaster it turned out to be,” Carmine said. “I didn’t expect anyone to be there. I dropped my orange juice and you started to clean it up, trying to help, and I, uh, well, you know what I did.”
Haven smiled sadly at the memory. He had been so angry back then . . . so broken. Carmine still had cracks in him, scars from where he had once shattered, but he was holding himself together now and that was what mattered.
“What you don’t know, though, is that as we sat like idiots in that puddle of juice, all I could think about was how beautiful you were. How beautiful you are. You were scared and confused, and I know I wasn’t helping that, but underneath it all you were just beautiful, Haven. You had me the very first time I laid eyes on you. I remember thinking later that morning you were going to complicate my life.” He paused as he laughed to himself. “And complicate it you did. Everything I knew, everything I believed . . . all of it went out the window. You turned me upside down and made me feel again. You saved my life, even though I didn’t realize it needed to be saved. I thought I was fine, that I didn’t need anyone else, but I was wrong, because I do. I need you. Christ, I—”
Haven’s eyes widened as the priest inhaled sharply. Carmine stopped talking, realizing what he had just said. “Shit,” he spat instinctively, stammering. “This is a god—”
Haven knew what he was going to say before the word slipped out and clamped her hand over his mouth before anyone else heard. He stared at her cautiously with panic in his eyes. Haven smiled softly, so he wouldn’t think she was upset, and he visibly relaxed. When she removed her hand, he leaned forward, brushing his lips against hers. She kissed him back, parting her lips and softly moaning as his tongue came into contact with hers.
“Not yet, man,” Dominic said, grabbing Carmine and pulling him away. “You’re getting ahead of yourself.”
The priest cleared his throat, and Carmine let out an exasperated sigh. “Sorry, Father.”
“Would you like to finish?” he asked.
“Uh, no.” Carmine shook his head. “I think I’ve said enough.”
“So since it is your intention to enter into marriage, join your right hands, and declare your consent before God and his Church,” the priest said, obviously wanting to get the service over with. Carmine grasped Haven’s hand, linking their fingers together and squeezing gently.
“Carmine, do you take Haven to be your wife? Do you promise to be true to her in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health, to love her and honor her all the days of your life?”