Addicted: A Secret Baby Romance (Rebel Saints MC)

by Zoey Parker

  “Alrighty,” Father O’Mally says, turning to Toni and me now, “First, let’s practice the bridal party procession. Groom – Gabe – you get up to that altar with your best man.”

  Smiling brace-faced delight, Jaws comes beside me and claps me on the back.

  “Our time to shine Boss.”

  I clap him back, lean in, say, “Told you not to call me that anymore.”

  To which he smiles back an even bigger smile.

  As we stride up the aisle to the front, I peer at his tie.

  “Jaws, is that actually a...”

  He nods, and, when we stop at the front, takes it out for me to look closer. I hold it up to my face so I can make out the tiny gray sea creatures on its shiny navy surface.

  “A shark tie. Tinsley got it for me. Some of them are even eating little fish see?”

  I let the tie fall, and Jaws shoots a worried sidelong glance at me.

  “Though I don’t, you know, have to wear it tomorrow.”

  With a smile, I tuck his tie back in.

  “Nah, wear it. It suits you.”

  I direct my attention to the back of the church, where Toni is talking to Father O’Mally.

  From here he looks like a confused vacationer from the Bahamas who accidentally wandered in. Behind them, Carlos’ roving eyes look as suspicious as ever. And what’s that bulge in his pants pocket?

  “So,” Jaws is saying, “What’s the food situation?”

  I shrug.

  “Some pasta, some sushi, some chicken, some steak, some cake.”

  Jaws nods, with a silent pressing together of his lips. His gaze is on the first bridegroom and bridesmaid walking up: Pip and Maria Fernanda – his hulking arm in her toothpick one.

  The longer I watch the more this seems like an elaborate joke: Maria Fernanda’s woolly sweater with a penguin that looks like it’s having a seizure, Pip’s donning of the old Rebel Saints shirt: a skull wearing a saint hat. Pulse and Hannah, the next to stride up, only further this impression: Pulse’s tattoos are tastefully covered by a wife beater, while Hannah is donning a toned-down neon pink dress.

  Even Carlos seems in on it, wearing what looks like the ugliest, most ripped up gray t-shirt in existence.

  And yet, the sight of him does not fill me with the same mirth as the others did. No, as he storms up, he makes sure his glare touches on everyone before he slumps into the pew with the other groomsmen.

  Last is Jane, whose trainer lets her free at last; she gallops up the aisle, stopping beside me and Jaws.

  I pet her and she gives me a doggy grin. We’re old friends by now.

  Only took three months of regular visits, walks and expensive cat-shaped dog treats, but I won Jane over.

  Now, finally, it’s Toni’s turn.

  She’s walking up alone, as she requested.

  “Feels wrong walking up with anyone but Papa,” she had explained, and I was all too happy to oblige her. Toni has been so reasonable throughout this wedding planning that I’d let her do almost anything she asked.

  Father O’Mally claps his hands in delight as he strides up.

  “Great, great!”

  Then, passing Jaws and me, he whirls around, gives us a significant look.

  “Now, on to the vows.”

  Toni and I step up to the altar, hand in hand.

  “Who wants to go first?” Father O’Mally asks.

  “I will,” Toni says, squeezing my hand one final time before letting it go, “Otherwise I’ll be crying too hard to get through mine.”

  I smirk at her.

  “Oh, I’ll make you cry all right.”

  Toni sticks out her tongue at me, then unfurls a piece of paper and begins.

  “Gabriel. I don’t know how to summarize the best months of my life, how to get heart-bursting love onto only a single piece of paper, how to make you understand that I have never felt anything like this with anyone else and never will.”

  As she speaks, I find tears coming to my own eyes, and a strange feeling in my gut that something isn’t right.

  In the pew, everyone is enrapt. Everyone, that is, except Carlos.

  His eyebrows are slanted in a purposeless fury, his hand is reaching into the pocket with the bulge.

  I reach in mine, grasp the White Lady.

  And as his hand comes out with a gun, so too does mine.

  I shoot the gun out of his hand and the church goes silent.

  Everyone freezes.

  “I’ll shoot you in the head if you move,” I bark at Carlos as his hand trembles mid-air.

  I stride up to the pew, grab his gun off the floor, then point both guns at him.

  “Pulse, Pip, can you show Carlos out of here? Maybe down to my new office?”

  They nod, smiling to each other, as they grab Carlos’ arms.

  I turn back to Toni and Father O’Mally, both of whom are white.

  “Sorry,” I say, “Was just getting the kinks out so the real thing could be perfect.”

  A half-hysterical laugh bursts out of Toni. I take her hand and kiss it.

  “Sorry babe. What were you saying?”

  She takes a deep breath, squeezes my hand back, then let’s go.

  “I love you more than you can know, and it only grows every day.”

  Father O’Mally still looks like he’s been punched in the face.

  “I want my vows to be a surprise,” I tell him, “Is it okay if we end it here, with the whole “you may now kiss the bride”?”

  He nods dumbly, and I turn to Toni.

  “Well, you heard the man.”

  And, before she can point out that what I said makes absolutely no sense since Father O’Mally is still speechless, I take her soft face in my hands, and press my lips to hers. And all at once, everything is fine again.

  Chapter 39

  Toni

  20 minutes. 20 minutes before I’m Mrs. Pierson.

  I grin at my reflection. Tilt my head so that I can confirm that the woman in the mirror is indeed me.

  She looks too glamorous – like a movie star, too happy.

  Her dress is white and gold, the top a cap-sleeve, golden sequin and jewel wonder, the skirt is a giant white and gold poof, spreading out princess-big.

  It’s perfect, in a word. Hell, this day is already perfect and it’s hardly begun.

  I lift my skirt once more to see the golden garter. We’re going to have fun with that tonight. My little $45 surprise for Gabriel. Money well spent. It even has his name on it.

  A knock on the door signals the end to my musing.

  As I go to open it, I smile at my reflection one last time.

  Hello, Mrs. Toni Pierson.

  At the door is Maria Fernanda. “It’s time,” she says.

  She pauses, lets her gaze wander over the expanse of my dress, my torrents of curls.

  “Well?” I ask, and she smiles, tears in her eyes.

  “Oh Toni, when you first told me I thought you were crazy but now, these past few months…. I am so very proud of you.”

  She embraces me, and as I hold her, she whispers, “Your father would have been proud of you too.”

  At these words, I separate, walk briskly out of the room.

  “We better get going. Don’t want to be late for my own wedding.”

  I can’t get to thinking about Papa, about how he should’ve been here, or I’ll be crying as I walk down the aisle.

  In the church entrance, all the wedding party is lined up. Just like last night, with one exception: Carlos is thankfully locked somewhere in Gabriel’s office, where he’ll stay until Gabe and I decide what to do with him. That’s one “kink” I’m glad we stumbled on during the rehearsal.

  I exchange a shy smile with Hannah, then inhale and exhale.

  Everything is alright. With Gabe, it always is. If anything goes wrong, he can fix it.

  The next thing I know music is starting and Pip and Maria Fernanda are walking down the church aisle.

  It’s time. It’s s
tarted.

  A few seconds later, Pulse and Hannah walk out. And then, a few more seconds later, it’s Jane trotting up toward the trainer waiting in the pew, and then they’re sitting down, which Father O’Mally said is my cue to go.

  I don’t go.

  I pause, gaze out at the crowd, the mass of Italians and bikers.

  Can I do this – marry a man I’ve known for less than a year? What am I thinking?

  I turn around, then pause again.

  The fear is wrong. I know. Gabriel Pierson is the right man for me, and always will be.

  I turn around and sail down the aisle.

  Once I start walking, it feels like I’m on a conveyer belt, not moving my legs at all, or even a magnet, being drawn to my other half. My other half who’s waiting for me at the altar.

  When I get there, the stupefied expression on his face indicates that my dress looks just as good as I thought.

  The rest of the service is Gabriel and I sitting and rising, listening to people give readings, Father O’Mally say things, waiting. For the vows, for the moment when we’ll be joined together forever.

  When it’s finally time for our vows, I can hardly believe it.

  I get through mine fine enough; I’ve practiced in front of my mirror thousands of times after all.

  I don’t even cry.

  And then it’s time for Gabe’s vows.

  He takes out the folded-up piece of paper Father O’Mally said he wasn’t supposed to bring, clasps my hand the way Father O’Mally said he wasn’t supposed to.

  And then, his voice wavering, he speaks:

  “Toni. You have been nothing short of a miracle. Before I met you, I didn’t know a woman like you existed, could exist. I never really connected with most people, never thought I could. And never anything like this. You’re honest yet compassionate, you know how to talk me up and keep me grounded. You bring out the best in me, so much so that lately I hardly recognize myself in the best way. I love you. I love you and everything that you are, and everything that we are, and I can never thank you enough for making the happiest man in the world by saying yes.”

  Now, as tears stream down, as our fingers clasp together, as we stare into each other’s’ loving eyes, Father O’Mally says the words, “You may now kiss the bride” and Gabriel does.

  Our lips meet, and everything disappears. There is only Gabriel and me, our love, our ecstatic marvel of a love, so bright it explodes, roars out so, as we separate, all I can hear is his whisper, “I love you Toni. I love you.”

  The rest of the service is a happy blur, of words, going through the motions, everyone smiling and my heart laughing, laughing at all this ceremony for me and my husband, whose love knows no bounds, recognizes no need for ceremony. This is the happiest day of my life.

  When we finally escape the church, we throw ourselves in the limo, lay back and enjoy the ride.

  “Cookies anyone?” Jaws offers.

  He’s holding an already-opened box of Oreos, that Maria Fernanda inspects with interest.

  “Is that… ah,” she says.

  Evidently, she saw that it is indeed birthday cake Oreos.

  This revelation made, when Jaws passes her the box, she takes six and passes three to me.

  We toast birthday cake Oreos with a smile and dig in.

  I munch on my Oreos gladly, sinking into Gabe.

  Today has only just begun, and I’m exhausted already. And this isn’t just a bodily exhaustion either. My mind is exhausted, worried.

  As we were leaving the church, I caught a glimpse of the last two faces I wanted to see.

  How did Roger and Anthony even get in?

  I frown, glancing up at Gabe’s exultant face. His smile is so big that it leaves two indents on his face even when it falls.

  No, I can’t tell him, can’t worry him. Not today. I want today to be perfect for him, for us. No use worrying needlessly.

  “Penny for your thoughts?” Gabriel is saying, stroking my face.

  “I love you,” I say simply, which is partly a lie and partly not.

  Because, as he kisses me, it’s all I can think of. How very much I love him, how lucky I am to have met him, how very wonderful this all is.

  Two Oreos later, we finally reach Casa Loma, our photography destination.

  Once there, we meet Jane and the dog trainer who transported her, Lila, as well as Rhonda, our photographer. While Lila is dressed in a regular blue t-shirt and jeans, Rhonda is a veritable explosion of prints: an orange and green paisley blazer with a pair of yellow, pink and purple striped pants.

  I’m surprised I didn’t notice her at the church service, but her orders were to “Be discreet” during it, after all.

  “Are you ready!” she exclaims.

  Without waiting for an answer, she torpedoes off, in one door of the castle and, as we follow her, out the other.

  Now in the garden, she beelines to the flowers, and immediately starts gesturing.

  “Big bald man you can go in the back, spike-haired man in the back too, your spikes are tall.”

  Pip and Jaws shuffle over obediently with annoyed faces, while the rest of us follow.

  And so, Rhonda orders us into our respective places, and the shoot begins.

  It starts out fun, the “nice” picture, the “funny” picture. Even Jane seems to be enjoying the plethora of treats she’s getting for sitting still, while Maria Fernanda hands out Oreos during lulls.

  Soon, however, it becomes clear that Rhonda is overly ambitious to the point of having us race all over the castle grounds, posing with trees, shrubs, and cute squirrels alike.

  When, after I nearly trip on a tree root, I let out a sigh, Gabriel shoots me a knowing look.

  “You’re tired, eh?”

  I nod.

  To which he sweeps me up.

  “Gabe!” I pretend to protest, though I’m secretly pleased.

  “Trust me,” he says, carrying me toward the fountain.

  As we near it, however, I can see it’s not the same as when we passed it last time.

  Namely, it’s overflowing with bubbles.

  “Ah, so it worked, did it?” Jaws asked.

  “Looks like it,” Gabe says, with a smirk.

  That’s one mystery solved, but that still doesn’t explain what we’re doing here.

  Gabriel is taking off his shoes.

  When he grabs mine, I squirm.

  “Gabe, what are you doing?”

  To which he kisses my cheek, says, “Trust me.”

  So I do. I let him take off my shoes, carry me toward the fountain, step over the shrub border onto its edge, then into the bubbly fountain.

  He lifts me so we’re eye to eye, then puts me down onto my feet in the water.

  I squeal; the bubbles are cool and squishy.

  Now music is playing: Uptown Funk – Bruno Mars.

  I turn to Gabriel with a delighted smile.

  “You remembered.”

  “I’m the one whose phone is playing it,” Jaws points out, stepping into the water with us, his arms already engaged in some crazy moves.

  At the sight of our motionless forms, he stops.

  “C’mon, you’re in a fountain of bubbles, listening to the grooving tune you met during,” he says, “Don’t tell me you’re not going to dance?”

  Gabriel’s response is to throw his arm out and up in a disco gesture; I do the same, and soon we’re grooving around, shaking hips, throwing out arms, splashing bubbles, grinning at each other, gesturing for the others to join us, which they do.

  And so, we groove: Pip, Maria Fernanda, Jaws, Pulse, Gabriel and me.

  At first, Rhonda bleats protest, then soon gives in to the beat, snaps a few pictures before she hops in herself, all of us rocking out in this fountain of bubbles, this contained puddle of beats, even the bubbles spilling out of the fountain in time.

  By the time the song’s on its third repeat, we’re drenched and laughing.

  I’m the first to stumble
out of the fountain and collapse on a bench, though the others are soon to follow.