Patrick
The Orangery was a stone and glass building set apart from the rest of the estate, seated in the middle of the large yard with a domed roof that let plenty of light in and kept us warm even when it was snowing outside. The sheltered walkway to the entrance ensured everyone was protected from the elements and helped you feel like you were stepping into another period of time, where tile mosaic floors and creeping vines with blooming flowers and trees inside were all common place.
Exotic flowers and large plants surrounded the seating area, in the center, dividing my guests from Lydia’s, was a long velvet carpet spanning from the doors to the lattice archway where I waited under a canopy of pink roses. Everything was so bright and alive, the hum of the guests made me feel almost like I was back at B & R, walking through the lobby while everyone went about their business. The only difference was that I was their business today.
I shifted back again, turning to look at the stone wall for moment to get my bearings again. We’ve been together less than a year, I thought as my palms became clammy. She’s having his baby. And yet I’d never felt more like I was in the exact right place. If anything, I was more nervous to make an ass out of myself in front of her family than anything else. I felt a hand touch my back and jolted before realizing that Jon had slipped in the side door and was now standing beside me.
“You’re late,” I whispered as I dusted the speckling of snow off his shoulder.
“I was held up,” he replied with a smirk. “She’s on her way down.”
He didn’t even need to tell me, I noticed the wedding planner escorting Michelin to her seat over his shoulder. She was weepy already and clutched her son to her side as soon as she sat down. Dia might never have been officially adopted, but it was clear to me then more than ever that Michelin saw her as her daughter. Now I’ll have a third mother. It was strange to think that our kids would have two fathers, one mother, three grandmothers, and a single grandfather. I didn’t even want to think of how the holidays were going to work from now on, especially with Celestyn currently living with us. And then there’s Maritza and Allie… That twelve-seater dining table Lydia picked out was making a lot more sense now.
I was motioned to turn around by Jon and a sudden hush fell over the guests. I could see the planner with Lewis just outside the doors, she stepped in first, motioned to the band just as Mari came through. The soothing music from the violins made my throat constrict as I stood there, watching the bridal party make their way to the front. The red of Maritza’s dress matched my suit and even our flowers. Allie, the maid of honor, followed close behind her. They walked slowly and smiled at the guests, and every step they took made my heart beat faster because it was one moment closer to seeing Lydia for the first time.
My palms were past the point of clammy, they were practically dripping at this point and I was terrified that she would notice. I tried to covertly wipe them off, but it didn’t do much. Jon patted my shoulder again and it calmed me slightly, my breathing seemed to come back to normal, but the violins reached a crescendo just as she stepped out from behind the curtain with Lewis and the tune changed slightly and I was falling apart again. She stepped forward with her adoptive father and into the sunlight that instantly caught her dress and made it sparkle like diamonds.
For that time, all I could see was her and nothing else mattered except the way she smiled back at me. Every step she took made me want to run down the aisle to her, to grab her and Jon and run and never look back.
Jon’s hand rubbed soothing circles over my back, at the moment I was at a loss for words and couldn’t thank him, but I knew he understood. Dia glanced at him too, I saw her eyes flick between us before she began to tear up. I reached for her out of instinct when she finally reached the platform and didn’t think twice to wipe away her tears while pressing a reassuring kiss to her cheek. A chuckle swept through the crowd and Jon nudged me, silently reminding me that I was getting ahead of myself. The officiant just grinned at us before welcoming everyone.
The rehearsal felt like it went on forever, but today it went by in the blink of an eye as I stood there facing Dia, listening to the officiant remind us of our commitment to each other. Somehow, this was exactly where I had always seen us ending up, right from the beginning when I bought the ring – before I even had concrete plans to propose. And I was thankful that even in the dynamic our relationship with Jon that we could still have this experience that was new to us without it feeling unfair.
The officiants words didn’t faze me until he had us press our open palms together, our fingers flush to each other and creating a strange sense of intimacy that was only increased by the way Dia’s cheeks flushed and she batted her eyes.
“These are the hands of your best friend, young and strong and full of love for you, that are holding yours on your wedding day, as you promise to love each other today, tomorrow, and forever,” the officiant said. “Now repeat after me; these are the hands that will work alongside yours, as together we build our future.”
“These are the hands that will work alongside yours, as together we build our future.” My voice was surprisingly strong as I repeated the words, but that said nothing about my insides melting into a pile of Jell-o.
“These are the hands that will passionately love you and cherish you through the years, and with the slightest touch, will comfort you like no other. These are the hands that will countless times wipe the tears from your eyes; tears of sorrow, and tears of joy. These are the hands that will help you to hold our family as one.”
The last of the words came out much shakier than the first and all I hoped for was the ability to make it through my own vows without crying. Dia was already crying, I could even feel the trembling in her hand as the officiant asked her to repeat after him.
“These are the hands that will hold you when fear or grief fills your mind,” she said hoarsely. “These are the hands that will tenderly hold your children. These are the hands that will give you strength when you need it.”
Everyone in this room could see us, they watched as I finally succumbed to tears when we were told to embrace each other and seal our vows with a kiss. To many of them, I was certain that they were doubting our relationship, seeing it as too fast, too strange, and a million other things, but I believed that in that moment, as my arms encircled her waist and my lips found hers, that they could see our happiness. Our very strange, awkward, and at times resentful happiness that was built on the back of an even stranger relationship that very few people in this room were privileged enough to know about.
You are my everything, Dia.
We broke apart finally and there was a round of applause as I held her to my side protectively. The clicking of cameras and the celebration from the officiant for Mr. and Mrs. Rosing made my heart race and slowly but surely, I felt that familiar triumphant feeling that had me squaring my shoulders and making myself as tall as possible despite Lydia’s giggling. I grabbed her arm and Jon’s hand, tugging them both along beside me to the doors with the cheering of the crowd following us along with the rest of the wedding party.
I had to wonder how many of them noticed that we didn’t exchange rings, and if they did, did they care? I didn’t know, I was too busy trying to shove my tongue down Jon’s throat the second we were away from the crowd while Lydia howled with laughter and pulled us apart.
“Don’t suffocate him!” she cried. “Give the man some air.”
Jon was beaming and didn’t seem at all affected by my sudden attack until his arms were thrown around both of us and we were being peppered with kisses.
“Papa, seriously?”
We broke away at the mild disgust in Maritza’s voice only for Allie to scream in excitement and grab Lydia from us. They hugged each other tightly while Jon did the same to his daughter despite her still looking thoroughly grossed out.
“I have plenty of love to go around,” he teased her before kissing the top of her head.
“You’re gonna mess my hair up!” she protested, pulling away. “Papa!”
“Hello, wedding party!” I planner cried, cutting everyone off. We turned to the older woman who pointed down the long corridor. “We have the second ceremony, we need to get a move on.”
Lydia grabbed my hand and pulled me along with her and Allie just as Ike and Charles came bustling out of the orangery. The wedding planner lingered to retrieve our parents while the rest of us went to get ready for the second, less formal half of our ceremony before pictures. The decision on whether to do photos before or after had gone on for weeks before we decided that even if we all looked a little more unkempt, it made more sense. It wasn’t just my day with Lydia after all, it was all three of us, and we deserved to have photos to remember it as such.
We were hustled into the old mansion towards a large library that was filled to the brim with books and plants framed against a wall that was entirely glass and looked out to the other side of the grounds through frosted windowpanes. We waited for the rest of the family while the girls fawned over each other. I could tell by the way Jon was smiling at them that he noticed Maritza and Lydia were getting along. It was a far cry from when I received a hysterical phone call in Tokyo because Maritza had caught her half-naked in the kitchen.
I threw my arm around his shoulders, and he laughed as he leaned into my side. Charles and Ike just rolled their eyes exasperatedly. It was interesting to see the reactions from the people that had been with us the longest, to see some of them just raise their eyebrows and others casually say they were waiting for us to just come out with it already.
“You’re quiet,” Jon remarked.
“I’m just taking it all in,” I replied quietly. “It’s nice, you know. Finally getting to this point makes me wonder why we waited this long.”
“If you tried to do it any sooner, I would have held you hostage,” he said dryly. “Not to put too much emphasis on the father figure aspect of our relationship, but I wouldn’t be letting either of you seriously consider getting married before the six-month mark.”
“And it’s cute that you think you could have controlled what two adults do in private.”
“I don’t have to think about it, I already did.”
I snorted and looked away out the window in an attempt not to laugh.
Jon was always going to be a pompous asshole that did whatever it took to get what he wanted, it was what made me look up to him so much when I was younger. And maybe now it was easier to deal with that attitude when we weren’t trying to dance around each other in terms of what we wanted – especially when it came to Lydia. I didn’t feel suffocated by his shadow anymore, which in turn meant our relationship was healthier, and it made it easier to laugh off his grandiose attitude because it didn’t feel like a slight towards me.
The doors opened again and more people came filling in. Charles’ wife Jen threw her arms open to embrace her husband and Eloise wasn’t far behind, happily taking Ike’s hand and pulling him to the side so that Lucy and Nora could get around her. I was suddenly being simultaneously hugged, pulled, pushed, and fussed over in the span of about two seconds.
“Mon chou, you look so handsome,” Nora praised as she kissed my cheeks. “I remember when you were this high, and you used to wear my suit jacket around, telling people you had very big important business to do…”
My face flamed when I heard Lydia and Allie giggling in the corner. “Mum, please…”
“Don’t be so shy or I’ll make sure to break out the baby photos when you’re good and plastered,” Lucy warned.
“Do you have the bathtub ones on you again?” Jon asked.
“Of course—”
I groaned and turned away from the three of them as mum and Nora went to town on fawning over the other man. I made my way around the room, giving Lydia and Allie some time with their parents while I waited for Celestyn. I could hear her coming down the hall, the sound of her cane seemed to echo and I heard her chatting with her nurse.
I waited quietly until they finally got to the library, as soon as Celestyn saw me she was tearing up and throwing her arms wide for me to hug her. I couldn’t help but wonder what this was like for her, to have lost her last surviving child just as she had met her estranged grandson, to be at my wedding only days after Aleksy’s birthday that he wasn’t able to celebrate. My throat constricted and I tried not to let it show as I hugged her, but I wanted to tell her that I missed him and I wished we had more of a relationship before he was gone.
“You look so much like him,” she whispered while rubbing my back. “He would be so proud of you, Patrick. You and your beautiful bride.”
“Thank you, babciu,” I replied hoarsely. “I’m glad you could be here with us.”
“I wouldn’t have missed this.” She pulled away and grinned up at me, her eyes crinkling at the corners. She touched my cheek gently, smoothing her thumb across it while her eyes searched my face. “One day I’ll have to tell you about my wedding – it wasn’t as fancy as yours, but it was still very romantic.”
It occurred to me right then that Celestyn was ninety-two, Aleksy was seventy-five, nearly seventy-six when he passed. That meant that even with a conservative estimate, she would have been seventeen when she had him, and likely sixteen when she got married which probably happened in the mid-forties.
“Was your husband in the war?” I asked suddenly. I don’t know why I never thought of that before, but I hoped that one day she and I could have an in-depth conversation about that side of the family and what life was like for them.
“He was,” she said with a wistful smile. She reached up and brushed my hair away from my forehead idly before continuing, “I have pictures of Jan from when he got home, I’ll show them to you when you get back.”
I smiled back at her and laid my hand over hers, just taking comfort in the warmth of her affection. It was easy to get lost in the moment, but the wedding planner was quick to ruin it, coming running in with the officiant again, who this time was finishing off a glass of white wine as he entered. The photographer and videographer were right behind them along with the makeup crew.
“Alright, I need the grooms over here first while the team gets the video equipment,” she called, waving Jon and I over. “Nobody gets to leave this room now.”
Celestyn chuckled and pushed me towards the makeup artists so that they could touch up our hair while the planner situated the guests around the room. Lydia needed a bit more effort than either of us to get her hair sitting perfectly again but considering the stress everyone was under, it was a miracle the team got finished with us as fast as they did.
Afterward, the three of us were led to the large picture window in front of the officiant again, this time with all of us arranged in a triangle formation. Lydia was the centre, the one holding both of us together, and watching as we all joined hands – one to her and one to Jon – I couldn’t help but feel like this was more important, more intimate, than the legal wedding.
My gaze moved between them, meeting their eyes and seeing the combinations of love, fear, and happiness that radiated off of them. We’d overcome what felt like the end of the world, we grew together, and now we were ready for the next leg of our journey no matter how difficult it promised to be at times.
Our family and friends surrounded us in a semi-circle, facing the setting sun while the three of us pledged to love, support, and take care of one another. I heard mum and Nora crying behind me, I could see Michelin and Lewis doing the same, and I felt the love of everyone in that room supporting us in that moment, wishing nothing but the best for us to make it through the rough patches together.
Mari was asked to step forward after we finished our vows and from the pocket on her dress she presented the silver box with our rings. Three gold and silver rings, each with three distinct bands – two of gold, one of silver – entwined together. The officiant took them and presented them to us one by one, asking us to each put a ring on another and then to join hands once more. Lydia slid the ring onto my finger before bringing my hand to her mouth and kissing the ring. My heart was racing as I watched her and my body flooded with warmth, her gaze didn’t even falter.
I did the same to Jon, and finally he did the same with Lydia.
It felt strange, there was a weight on my hand that I hadn’t expected, yet my entire body felt lighter than air. The excitement was bubbling up inside me and by the time the second ceremony drew to a close, I was more than eager to kiss both of them.
Soft warm hands touched my face, larger, more weathered ones pulled me towards him, and we were lost together in a flurry of crying, kisses, and whisperings of “I love you.” I knew I was home, right here with them, in the arms of people that I loved and that loved me in return. There was nowhere else in this world that I would rather be, and no one else I wanted to be with.
With them, I knew I could do anything, and for her – I would.