Page 153 of Love Without Control

“Let’s do it,” I said back, and we started walking down the aisle. Dane stood before me on the low, white-carpeted stage in a black tuxedo with velvet lapels. He looked damn edible with his dark hair skimming his broad shoulders. And that devastating smile of his was directed right at me.

Though my eyes were on my groom, from my peripheral vision, I saw the crew from Florida, including Robert and Jamie, the folks from the bakery, and my hospital coworkers. Rodrigo, the man who had been with Dane the night he rescued me, was smiling from the middle of the crowd, and Cooper was in the third row. He’d gotten a short leave from the Army and surprised us last night. My family and college friends took up the first two rows with our son sitting on Stella’s lap. He blew me a kiss and yelled, “Hi, Mommy!”

Everyone laughed, and I leaned down for a quick kiss. “Hi, Paulie. Be a good boy for Yaya, okay?” He nodded and snuggled close to my father’s wife. Dad and Stella had surprised everyone by eloping to Vegas one weekend, and all of us were ecstatic about it. They should have been together decades ago, but at least they’d found their way back together now.

We reached the front, and Dad kissed my cheek and shook Dane’s hand before taking his seat beside Stella in the front row. My handsome groom and I faced Father Benedict, who was the priest who had “married” us in Treviso. Dane had managed to track him down and flew him to New York for our wedding.

With heavily accented English, the man performed our ceremony, and Dane and I exchanged vows. I didn’t cry a bit. I was too busy smiling because this was a joyous occasion.

We both ended our vows with the words that were inscribed on the inside of my ring. As I said them to my husband, his fingers danced up my forearm, and I knew he was picturing the ink beneath my lace sleeve. It was my very first tattoo and was a peacock feather that matched the one on his arm. On the central vein of the feather, the tattoo artist had written in small scripty letters:In the light and in the darkness… I choose you.

“Did you know that female peacocks are called peahens?” I asked so only Dane could hear.

He chuckled and kissed the tip of my nose. “I love your brain.”

I rested my hands on his cheeks. “I love your face.”

With a wiggle of his eyebrows, he said, “Well, I love your—”

Pressing a finger to his lips, I giggled. “Save it for the honeymoon, Dracula.”

When Father Benedict declared that Dane could kiss his bride, he dipped me for a long kiss, just like he had in Treviso, and all the women in the room let out a collective sigh. Yeah, my man was pretty damn swoonworthy.

Then he lifted me upright and held my waist, his pretty brown eyes fixed on mine. “I love you, wife.”

“And I love you, husband.”

Father Benedict gently turned us until we were facing the congregation, and with his Italian accent, announced, “I present to you, Mr. and Mrs. Dane and Evie Bouvier.”

Yes, my husband took my family’s last name. He knew how much it meant to me, and he wanted Paulie to grow up as a Bouvier. We had our son’s name legally changed to Paul Augustus Bouvier last week. Someone from Kassie’s office had handled that, as well as untangling all the legal complications related to Dane and I using aliases for almost eighteen years.

As we walked hand in hand up the plush white aisle, Dane stopped and scooped up Paulie in one arm. Everyone cheered, and our son looked delighted, waving with both hands like he was getting his own personal standing ovation. He was seriously the cutest dang kid ever.

We made our way up the aisle and past the rows of tall taper candles that glowed on either side of the door, and I knew, from this day forward, the light would always outweigh the dark.

Because we chose each other.

Because we choselove.

THE END