“What?” I whisper, dying to know what she thinks about this.
“We might’ve been that couple.”
I laugh a little. That couple.
“We might have been that couple you described on our second-chance first date last summer. The one who fights hard, and lives fast, and loves each other ferociously.”
“Love is a battlefield, babe. And we’re both just generals.”
She giggles. “That’s right. It’s a pretty romantic idea. But you know what’s even more romantic?”
“I think you’re about to tell me.”
“Us. The real us. That’s even more romantic than the fantasy us. Because the real us, Jesse Boston—the real us is strong. The real us is smart. The real us is resilient. The real us is… well…” She shrugs with her shoulders. “We’re real, Jesse. And I know all this is fake. This whole day was set up to be something fake. Every bit of this day was a crazy fantasy. But I just want you to know that this moment? This one right now? This is all us, Baby Boston. I don’t care who’s sitting in this chapel with us. I don’t care that we don’t know them, and they don’t know us, and this isn’t my dress, and that isn’t your tux. It’s real. Because this moment is about my love for you and that’s the only thing that counts.”
She and I both suck in a deep breath of air and suddenly the world is… different. Better. Brighter. Realer than real.
Because she’s right. This moment, and the ones that come next, those are the only ones that count. “I love you, Emma Dumas.”
“I love you back, Jesse Boston.”
I turn to the priest and nod. “And that’s all there is.”
He smiles at us. Maybe he understands the actual words of our impromptu vows or maybe he’s done this enough to just feel the meaning of our moment. But his smile is big. His arms go up and he spreads them wide, opens his mouth and tells me to kiss my bride in a language I don’t understand, and then the chapel doors swing open with a bang.
Everyone gasps and turns around to see who dares interrupt our moment of bliss.
I squint my eyes at the man standing in the doorway, unable to figure out who it is or why he’s there.
And then there is chaos.Chapter SixteenChaos.
Total and utter chaos.
Everyone stands up. People are shouting. The groomsmen all pull out guns from their suit coats. My bridesmaids are running to the back of the altar, trying to hide.
My fake mother is screaming. I’m talking this little round lady is yelling at the top of her Italian lungs. My fake father suddenly has like… a machine gun or whatever you call them, and then, from behind the guy who just stopped the wedding, there’s a whole other group of men silhouetted in the doorway. All are dressed up in black suits. All have guns out.
I roll my eyes and look at Jesse.
“For fuck’s sake,” he says, running his fingers through his hair. “Are you kidding me right now? I mean, Fingers! Dude!” He yells it to the ceiling like maybe, hopefully, there’s some hidden cameras up there and Fingers will magically hear his plea and stop this mess before it gets out of hand. Like maybe there’s a way to just kiss, get back to the whole ‘I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride’ moment and pretend this surprise twist didn’t happen. “We were so close, man! This isn’t necessary!”
But then the shooting starts. The mobster guy in the doorway is screaming. And blazing guns aside, there’s no possible way to miss that these are threats.
At first, I figure it’s all part of the show, right? This is Treasure Island all over again, but with mobsters. I mean, the name of the package is Shotgun Wedding.
But Jesse’s right. We do not need the theatrics. We’ve had enough. So we just stand there for a moment, totally convinced this is fake.
Until my fake father-in-law takes a bullet to the chest, twists in the air, and falls flat on his face.
I just kinda stare at him for a moment, still thinking this is fake. It’s a good fake. I’ll give them that. It’s pretty authentic. But it’s not real.
It cannot be real.
But then I see the exit wound in his back, and the blood pooling on the floor around his upper body, and then two things happen simultaneously.
I scream. I don’t even know where that scream comes from, it’s like instinct.
And then someone from the Mob family yells, “Jesse motherfucking Boston!”
And then another thing happens.
Jesse and I look at the man screaming his name, then at each other, and then he’s running. He’s got my hand, and we’re running. Past the now shooting back groomsmen, past the podium thingy in the center of the altar, and through a gold curtain that leads to some chapel back room.