Chapter 18 - Home by the Water
They married in June.
At the estate.
Yolanda refused anything extravagant.
Damen interpreted “not extravagant” very differently from normal humans, so negotiations lasted weeks.
“No helicopters,” Yolanda said.
“I didn’t suggest helicopters.”
“Jacoby did.”
“Then speak to Jacoby.”
“No fireworks.”
“Fine.”
“No hundred-foot floral wall.”
Damen frowned.
“What’s wrong with flowers?”
“Nothing, if we leave some for the rest of Rhode Island.”
Talia served as flower girl, assistant planner, self-appointed security consultant, and source of seventeen separate crises.
The ceremony took place near the cove.
Evelyn cried before anyone walked down the aisle.
Jacoby denied crying altogether.
Damen stood beneath the trees where, almost two years earlier, he had carried a terrified child toward the boathouse.
Now that same child walked toward him scattering petals badly because she kept turning around to see whether everyone was watching.
Then Yolanda appeared.
Damen forgot the guests.
Forgot the cameras.
Forgot everything.
She wore a simple ivory dress.
No dramatic train.
No glittering crown.
She looked like herself.
That was what he loved most.
When she reached him, she whispered, “You’re staring.”
“Yes.”
“You’re supposed to say something.”
“Eventually.”
She smiled.
The vows were short.
Yolanda spoke of trust.
Damen spoke of choice.
Neither promised perfection.
They promised honesty.
Talia had insisted on a line of her own.
When the officiant finished, she raised her hand.
Everyone laughed.
“What is it, Talia?” the officiant asked.
She looked at Damen.
“You promise you’re staying forever?”
A hush settled.
Damen crouched so he was level with her.
“I can’t promise forever.”
Several guests looked surprised.
Talia frowned.
Damen continued.
“But I can promise something better.”
“What?”
“Every day I’m here, I choose you.”
Talia considered.
Then nodded.
“Okay.”
Yolanda wiped her eyes.
Damen stood.
The officiant quietly said, “That may have been better than my entire ceremony.”
Everyone laughed.
Later, after dinner and dancing, Damen walked alone toward the boathouse.
Not because he was unhappy.
Because he needed one quiet minute.
The cove reflected moonlight.
Footsteps approached.
Yolanda.
“You disappeared from your own wedding.”
“I walked fifty yards.”
“That counts.”
She joined him.
“You okay?”
“Yes.”
“You sure?”
Damen looked toward the water.
“My father should have seen this.”
Yolanda held his hand.
“He would have been proud.”
“You don’t know that.”
“No.”
She leaned against him.
“But Mateo would have.”
Damen looked at her.
She smiled.
“He liked stubborn people who showed up.”
They stood quietly.
Then Talia’s voice echoed across the lawn.
“COME BACK! THEY’RE CUTTING CAKE!”
Damen sighed.
“Duty calls.”
Yolanda laughed.
They returned together.
The estate that once held secrets in walls and cellars now had every door open to summer air.
Music carried through the windows.
Children ran across the lawn.
Employees danced with executives.
Evelyn argued cheerfully with Jacoby.
No one lowered their voice when Damen passed.
That might have been his greatest accomplishment.
This was not the empire Silas built.
It was not the empire Augustus inherited.
It was simply a home.
May you like
And that was more than enough.
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