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.
Yeah, he had no desire to go there again.
Haven reached under the table and grabbed his thigh, forcefully stilling his leg. He glanced at her cautiously and she smiled, no signs of anger in her expression. She could usually tell when he was struggling. “Are you okay?” she asked.
“Yeah, I’ll be fine,” he replied. The tension started receding from his body as he gazed at her. She glowed, and his chest swelled with emotion at the twinkle of happiness in her eyes, hoping she saw the same thing shining back at her. She meant everything to Carmine. His love for her was stronger than anything else, more potent than the drugs or alcohol had ever been. She was his world, his fucking life, and now she was his wife.
His wife . . . who would have ever thought Carmine DeMarco would have a wife?
“You should eat your food,” she said quietly, her smile turning mischievous as she turned her attention back to her plate. “You’ll need the energy later.”
He groaned at the insinuation and stabbed the meat on his plate. It seemed to be some kind of pork, but he wasn’t entirely sure. Celia had handled the caterers because neither Haven nor he really cared much about the formality of receptions. He was all about ordering some pizza and letting the motherfuckers help themselves, but evidently that wouldn’t fly with the company they kept. “Don’t worry, Haven. I’ll have plenty of energy for you.”
“Oh, I’m not worried,” she said as she took a bite. “You should be, though.”
He laughed as he started eating, already feeling better. The shakiness was usually fleeting, although the thoughts were always in the back of his mind.
He was taking a drink when Dominic stood, tapping the side of his glass with his fork, calling for everyone’s attention. “I think everyone here knows who I am but in case you don’t, my name’s Dominic. I’m Carmine’s older and wiser brother, although he’d never admit that. He has, however, admitted that I’m the best man, and as the best man it’s my duty to stand up here and try to embarrass his ass,” he started. “There’s so much I could say about Carmine, so many words out there to describe him that it’s almost impossible to know where to start. He’s stubborn, foolish, finicky, moody, erratic, quick to judge, and even quicker to react. I tend to think he’s pretty ugly, too, but that’s just my personal opinion.”
“Fuck you,” Carmine muttered, running his hand through his hair.
“I forgot to add he has a foul mouth, which you all got to witness today. The priest is probably blessing the church again right now,” he said humorously. “Some lesser-known qualities about Carmine are that he’s protective over the people he loves, and he fights for what he believes in. He comes off as being selfish, but he’s probably the most selfless person I know.
“And then there’s Haven, who has to be the most patient person alive to put up with him. At first she and Carmine seemed to be complete opposites, the timid, naïve girl that was experiencing everything for the first time and the jaded, reckless boy who was pretty much sick of it all. I don’t think any of us could’ve predicted that these two people from different ends of the spectrum would meet in the middle, but they did. They balanced each other, found peace in each other, and together they managed to find love. I know that sounds cheesy, like I’m quoting a damn Julia Roberts movie or something, but it’s the truth. What they have is rare.”
Carmine glanced at Haven and she smiled, reaching under the table to take his hand as Dominic continued.
“I don’t know if you all know this, but in high school my brother was kind of a hotshot football player,” he said. “I’m not trying to be cliché or anything, but one thing my own marriage taught me is that relationships are like football in a lot of ways. It’s a team sport and you have to work together to be successful. There are highs and lows, good plays and bad calls, and if you’re going to step out on the field, you need to be ready to play the game. Big mistakes get you benched, and, depending on how bad you screwed up, they can cost you a fortune before you’re allowed back on the playing field. There will always be rivals, people trying to knock you out of the game, but if you’re lucky, you’ll end up with a nice ring to show for your hard work. But it’s not over there, you know. That’s when it really starts, because for the rest of your life you’ll be trying to prove to everyone that you, out of everyone, deserved to be given that ring.”
He paused, snickering to himself. “That’s not the biggest way relationships are like football, though. No matter what you do, no matter what happens, the point of both is to score as much as you can. Without scoring, the entire thing is really just a waste of time.”
Carmine chuckled as Tess flung her napkin at Dominic. He laughed and playfully blew her a kiss before diving right back into his speech. “I think I should wrap this up. My old lady’s throwing penalty flags,” he joked, holding his glass up. “So on behalf of my wife, Tess, and I, I want to toast the couple. To Carmine, who couldn’t do better, and to Haven, who quite frankly, couldn’t do worse.”
They raised their glasses in toast as Carmine kissed Haven. The DJ spoke up, announcing it was time for the first dance. Panic flashed in Haven’s eyes as he took his jacket off. She hesitated before letting him lead her out onto the empty dance floor. He could tell she was uncomfortable with everyone watching, but she tried her best not to let her nerves show.
He pulled her to him when “18th Floor Balcony” started playing, his hands on her hips guiding her as they started swaying to the music. She put her arms over his shoulders, her fingers playing with the hair at the nape of his neck as she stared into his eyes. He could see the tears she fought back, her eyes sparkling under the lights.
“I love you,” he said quietly.
“I know you do,” she replied, her smile growing. “I love you, too.”
“I’m sorry for fucking up the ceremony.”
“Don’t be silly. You didn’t mess it up.”
“I cursed at Father Alberto, Haven,” he said. “I broke the third commandment. Or maybe it’s the second . . .”
“It’s the third,” she said. “And it’s not that big of a deal. I mean, that’s not the only commandment you’ve broken and I’m sure it won’t be the last one, either.”
“Is that supposed to make me feel better?” he asked, laughing when she shrugged nonchalantly. “Yeah, well, I didn’t break any others standing in the middle of a church.”
“True, but it could’ve been worse,” she said. “You managed to make it through the entire thing without saying the F word.”