Chapter 23

TWENTY-THREE

I didn’t actually know where I was getting married.

Don’t get me wrong. I knew how it would work. Matthew would walk me down the aisle. The wedding party itself was a little uneven—Xavier’s only real friend was Jagger, who was going to accompany Kate down the aisle as best man and maid of honor. Lea would walk with her husband, Mike, Joni and Marie would walk together, and then Sofia would follow, a flower girl to Tommy, my nephew, as ring bearer.

Where they were walking, though, was a complete mystery.

It was kind of strange, but Xavier had insisted it be a surprise. It was one of the few parts of the wedding planning he had actively taken part in—even more so than the food, which was being provided by the staff at Chie (where the reception would also take place). He’d been happy to share every detail he could about that, of course. But the ceremony, beyond my part in it, was still a mystery.

It wasn’t until the Town Car stopped at the edge of Bryant Park that I realized where we were. And indeed, when the car pulled up in front of the familiar steps guarded by the seminal pair of stone lions, I knew there was only one place Xavier could give me in all of New York.

“He really is a beast,” I murmured as Matthew got out.

“I have to say, he must know you well,” my brother said as he helped me from the car. “You getting married at the New York Public Library is pretty damn perfect. Does he like books, too?”

I chuckled. “Not particularly. But he likes giving them to me. And he likes making me happy.”

For the first time, Matthew nodded with what looked like approval of Xavier. “Well, at least he has that going for him.”

My brother led me up the steps that had been lit with dozens of tea candles and scattered with bouquets of sweet smelling fall gardenias and camellias. He guided me through the marble archway, up the grand staircase, and through one of the outer reading rooms to the entrance of what was probably my favorite place in all of New York City: the famed Rose Main Reading Room.

I’d never told Xavier about it, but somehow, he knew. Just like he would have known how beautiful the Beaux-Arts setting would be for a wedding, with its tall arched windows, curlicued gilt-carved ceiling, and the dozen or so chandeliers that looked like upside-down wedding cakes.

Music floated through the doors as my sisters followed us into the outer reading room. The wedding was to be held through the double doors, outside of which our little wedding procession was already starting to gather.

“Mama?” Sofia turned from where she stood next to Joni and pulled at my hand.

I looked down to find my little girl staring at me with genuine awe. Dressed in her own frilly pink dress that (according to her) topped any of the costumes in her closet at home, Sofia had left long before I had finished getting ready at the house, so this was the first time she had seen me in my full wedding regalia.

“Where’s your crown?” she asked, pointing to my head.

Gingerly, I touched the veil hanging over my hair. “My crown?”

“You look like a princess,” she told me. “And Daddy says you’re going to be a queen. So you need a crown.”

My sisters chuckled.

“She has a point,” said Kate. “I told you we should have sprung for a tiara.”

I smiled as I bent down to look eye to eye with my daughter. “I think real royalty doesn’t have to have a crown. If you’re a queen, you know it in here.” Gently, I touched Sofia’s chest, making her giggle.

“Do you know it?” she asked me.

I glanced toward the open doors, through which I could hear the sounds of our small crowd chattering away, where my beloved waited for me at the end. “Yeah, baby. I do.”

Sofia grinned as I stood up. “Good. Me too. We’re gonna go get Daddy now, right?”

I grinned back and nodded. “Yep, now we get to be a real family.”

But my daughter just shook her head. “We were always a family, Mama. We just had to figure it out first.”

Before I could answer my wise-beyond-her-years daughter, she was ushered away by the wedding planner, who did her final check of me, handed over my bouquet of pink gardenias, then lint-rolled Matthew’s shoulders before checking with her staff in the microphone.

“All right,” she said into her headset. “Bride’s a go.”

With a wink and a nod, she opened the door to the reading room, where my brother escorted me up the red brick path that led straight to my heart’s desire.

It was a small congregation for such a large room. Most of the reading desks were still in their places, filling the space the way a large number might. But we had chosen to keep things intimate. To the soft parochial tunes of a string quartet, I followed my sisters in their blush-colored dresses to the end of the aisle, where Xavier’s and my collection of friends and family had gathered.

I barely saw any of them. My eyes were only on the man to the side of the officiant, standing taller than anyone else in a dark blue tuxedo that matched his bright gaze and made his black hair shine.

Xavier’s eyes were stars as I made my way slowly to him. It was clear that just like I could see nothing other than his strong, shadowy form, I was the only light in the room for him.

“Who gives this woman?” asked the justice in accordance with the ceremony we’d written with him.

“I do!” Sofia shouted with glee, though she looked concerned when it caused a smattering of soft laughter from our guests.

“Me too,” Nonna offered.

“And me!”

“I do!”

Eventually, all my sisters had offered their answers, eager to be a part of the joke until I was grinning so hard I could barely breathe.

“Jesus Christ,” Matthew muttered, though even he couldn’t hide a smile. “We all do, your honor.”

The justice nodded with a smile of his own, then waited as Matthew lifted my veil and leaned down to press a brief kiss to my cheek.

“Love you, Frankie,” he said. The green eyes that matched my own shone with something like tears.

“Mattie,” was all I could say. “Thank you, big brother. For everything.”

He knew what I meant.

Then I turned and took Xavier’s arm, allowing him to guide me the rest of the way until we stood with our hands clasped in front of the justice.

His gaze trailed slowly down my dress, then back up with the blazing blue fire I had come to know was mine alone.

“You look stunning,” he whispered. “Am I really this lucky?”

“You gave me another library,” I whispered back with a blush. “I think you were ready for it.”

Xavier’s grin lit up the entire room. “You once told me there’s a whole world in a single book.”

My own happiness was practically splitting my face in half. “So I did.”

“Well, I don’t want to give you the world, Ces. I want to give you millions of them.” He nodded toward the endless shelves around us. “You and Sof and the little one in there. You’re my whole world. The only one I’ll ever need. But I’ll never stop trying to give you the rest.”

The ceremony moved quickly. We’d opted for simple. No readings except a poem read by Kate and then our vows. By the time we were finished, Xavier looked ready to carry me out of the room over his shoulder, practically bursting at the seams to grab me.

“I now pronounce you husband and wife,” said the justice. “Er, you may kiss the bride.”

“About bloody time,” Xavier growled as he yanked me across the aisle, lifted me off my toes, and landed a soul-searing kiss that had me very glad we weren’t in a church—a priest would have been utterly scandalized.

“Me too, me too, me too!” crowed Sofia even louder than the cheers from our audience.

Xavier broke our kiss long enough to sweep Sofia up in one arm, allowing her to throw her little arms around both our necks and cackle as she pushed us together for yet another kiss.

“Mine at last,” Xavier murmured before his lips met mine.

His at last , I thought, as all faculties for speech had been effectively cut off. And ours, for always .

The party moved swiftly to Chie, which was only five blocks away in the heart of midtown. The restaurant, with its pinks and purples, was alight with flowers, its furniture completely rearranged to accommodate our guests and provide a small dance floor in the middle of the space where, eventually, Xavier and I would go through all the other milestones for a pair of newlyweds. We spent the first hour or so greeting our guests, accepting completely unnecessary envelopes from my relatives, and letting great-aunts and distant cousins kiss both of us on our cheeks and remark on how very tall “Frankie’s man” was.

It wasn’t until everyone was settled and we were digging into the second course of the evening, a salad of fresh mizuna and feta in a sesame vinaigrette, that Xavier and I finally had a moment to ourselves.

We hadn’t stopped touching, of course. If Xavier’s arm wasn’t slung over my shoulders, shepherding me close to his side, his hand was toying with my hair, slipping around my waist, or reaching for my knee.

“No champagne?” I asked as Xavier took yet another sip of water.

He shrugged. “If you’re not drinking, neither am I.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“Yes, I do,” Xavier said before pressing a kiss to my lips. “We’re in this together, babe. Top to bottom.”

It was then I realized that more of the reception had been planned for me as well. Despite the fact that the restaurant primarily served Japanese fusion, there wasn’t a piece of raw fish in sight. Nor was there anything else in the way of cured meats or raw cheeses. Nothing a pregnant woman like me couldn’t enjoy.

For at least the twentieth time that night, I wanted to tackle Xavier into a back room and show him exactly how much I appreciated his thoughtfulness. By the look on his face, he was more than ready to accept my thanks as well.

Alas, too many guests.

There would be time for that later.

“Are you sad that more of your family didn’t come?” I wondered as he played with my fingers, watching my engagement ring and its matching band gleam under the candlelight.

Xavier’s side of the aisle had been woefully small. Mine was bursting with extended family, cousins, family friends from up and down Arthur Avenue, as well as a few from school. I wasn’t Miss Popularity, but it was warming to see just how many people wanted to wish me well.

Xavier’s side, however, had consisted of a handful of people from his old neighborhood, a few work colleagues, Jagger, Elsie, and, to my surprise, Frederick.

Xavier was quiet for a moment but offered a shrug in response. “Everyone who matters to me is either gone or here,” he said. “But you can see why I don’t mind leaving. I see what you have here. I suppose maybe now I want to be a part of that too.”

I nodded. “Well, you’re stuck with us now. The Zolas are pretty ride or die, so hopefully you don’t regret it.”

He lifted my hand and pressed a reverent kiss to my knuckles. “Never.”

“Might I offer my congratulations?”

Xavier and I both turned to find Frederick standing next to us.

His stepbrother was dressed like any other wealthy man might be in a dark gray suit and blue paisley tie. Even if I hadn’t known him from before, I would have thought he was from out of town simply by the tilt of his head and the ramrod-straight posture.

“And best wishes, of course,” he said as he leaned down to kiss my cheek. “It was a lovely ceremony. Truly.”

Xavier glanced at me as if to ask, “What do you want to do?”

I shrugged. He was already here. Clearly, Xavier had invited him, and while I absolutely despised his mother, Frederick had never seemed anything but young and reasonably courteous.

Xavier pulled out Sofia’s empty chair next to him (our daughter, of course, had been lost in the crowd with her cousins for a while now). Frederick took a seat and smiled when one of the servers brought over his place from where he had been seated with Jagger and Elsie.

“You know, I don’t think I ever knew how prolific the Parker Group really was,” Frederick said as he admired Chie’s lush interior. “I remember your pub in the village, but I don’t think I’ve ever gone to any of your spots in London. And there are more, too…”

“In Paris, Prague, Madrid, Berlin, among others,” Xavier confirmed.

“So, er, how many restaurants do you actually have now?” Frederick wondered.

“This made fourteen,” Xavier said somewhat cagily. “First in New York, but we’ve plans for more.”

“Amazing,” Frederick remarked, more to himself than to us.

Xavier just made a nondescript sound that I recognized as his “where have you been?” noise. I’d heard it several times whenever some random lord recognized him and acted like this big, strapping, extremely successful duke had appeared out of thin air.

“You’re very lucky,” Frederick went on. “I didn’t realize what an empire you’ve built, but I’m so glad you have.”

“Why’s that?” I wondered.

Frederick took a sip of wine. “Because,” he said eventually, “my brother here will always have something of his own. No matter what anyone might do…or take.”

Xavier and I sat there for a moment. Neither of us seemed to know what to say.

“Anyway,” Frederick said. “I just wanted to wish you both my best. You deserve to be happy, Xavier. Happy at last. And Francesca is wonderful. I mean that.”

Without waiting for a response, he picked up his plate and glass and adjourned himself back to his table. Xavier watched him until I couldn’t take the silence any longer.

“Well, that was nice of him,” I said. “To say congratulations, I mean.”

“That was more than congratulations, Ces,” Xavier said wryly. “It was a warning.”

I frowned. “A warning about what?”

He downed the rest of his water, looking very much like he wished it were something harder. “Of what’s to come when the party’s over.”