by Finn, Emilia
The groom awaits his bride. Angelo awaits Laine, and Riley is wearing a brand-new prosthetic leg, something I recently found out was the brainchild of the man I love, and waits to see what Andi is going to do to hijack this ceremony. Spencer is wearing a three-piece suit today – allegedly – which makes me almost sick with nerves while I wait to see him. He’s going to be so handsome while he waits at the top of the aisle for us to arrive.
He’ll complain about the suit choking him, but he’ll stand there anyway, because I told him to. Because I demanded he do as he’s told, or else.
“Guys…” Sophia stands beside me, presses a hand to her stomach, and turns a little green as she studies herself in the mirror. “I’m not so sure about this.”
“You’re going to be fine.” I move around her massive dress and work on setting the train exactly right. “Married life is kind of fun, I promise.”
“But… it’s Jay,” she whines. “He’s crazy, and not in the good way. He’s immature and makes me wanna stab him with an icicle more often than not.”
“It’ll be winter again soon,” Andi chimes in. She wears a dress the same as mine; soft cream, sweetheart neckline, an amazingly supportive push-up bra, and tight around the backside so it looks like we’ve all had butt implants. “If you wait for the ice, you can off him with an icicle and wait for it to melt again. It’s the perfect crime.”
“Nobody is killing Jay.” Jessie steps into our huddle and studies herself in the mirror. She slides a hand over her stomach and down to her hip. Baby weight, gone. Perfect hair, reinvigorated. Bigger boobs, she got those, too. “I like him, so I’m going to be hella mad if someone hurts him.”
“How can you possibly like him?” Sophia snaps. “I hardly even like him.”
Jess grins and loops her fingers with Sophia’s. “You said yes. He asked, and you said yes. That’s an important detail here.”
“He did it without being silly.” Her bottom lip quivers while she remembers back. “He was always going for over-the-top and extravagant. So when he finally got it right… it was kinda impossible to say no.”
“And now you’re wearing a dress that looks an awful lot like a tutu.” Andi walks by and smacks Soph’s butt. “You want this. You’re dying to go out there to him. You barely slept last night because you couldn’t wait for today.”
“I barely sleep any night,” Soph pouts. “He’s probably gonna be the father of my children, guys. That’s terrifying.”
“Probably?” Andi snickers. “I think it’s guaranteed.”
“I have Bishop babies,” Jess sighs. “They’re my favorite people in the world. You’ll be fine, Soph. I promise you’ll be fine. This is a happy day, not a freak-out-and-flee-the-country day.”
“I love him.”
“Yes you do.”
“He’s good in bed.”
Jess snorts. “I’m certain he is.”
“He’s actually super sweet when it’s just us, and he’s not acting a fool.”
“I know he is.” Jess walks around us and stops so she blocks Soph’s view of the mirror. “He’s amazing, smart, handsome, funny. He worships you, Soph. You will never find a better husband than a Bishop. Trust me, I know.”
“Okay.”
“You got this?”
The tiny brunette gives a jerky nod not unlike the kind I gave Spencer when I finally agreed to marry him.
We haven’t done the castle thing. We haven’t done the reception or anything more formal than signing the marriage license. But neither of us need to. We married six months ago, in a hospital room, with our friends and family watching on. The next day, I said my final farewells to a sweet girl who never should have hurt. I sat on our bench seat in the sun, and cried for her. Spencer held me close and let me feel for her while the trees moved in the soft breeze, and the birds chirped their morning song. He held me together while I dropped my face into my hands and purged my grief for the beautiful girl who had become a beautiful blue butterfly.
Now she’s free. She’s without pain, without heartache, and without the worries she had to deal with for so many of her limited days on this Earth.
Once I’d wrung myself dry and blubbered all over my husband’s broad chest, I went back inside that horrible hospital and began my newest battle.
They took my breast and tested my lymph nodes. They offered reconstructive surgery to give me a whole new look; I’ll take them up on that at some point. But not yet. Not for a while. I’m tired of needles, I’m tired of pain. My chest still bears the newest scar from my port-a-cath, so until I can bear the thought of more surgery, I’m not voluntarily signing myself up.
My chemotherapy was accelerated, which meant hair loss – again – and mouth ulcers – again. It meant lost weight, and days upon days of exhaustion, when I could do nothing more than sleep and let Spencer hold me.
He was my rock, my guide. He was my strength, and though I know it hurt him to see me in pain, though I know he went to the hospital church more often than he’ll ever admit, and allowed himself a minute of reprieve, he never once faltered in front of my eyes.
He held me up through every day of my treatment, and for the minutes he needed to take a breather, he sent my brothers in and they held me up.
He’s my angel. He was sent to me in the time the universe knew I needed him.
Could I have gone through treatment a second time, if not to live for him?
I’m not sure, but I’m glad I’ll never have to know.
My hair is growing back, and my mouth no longer hurts. Sophia has taken control of my diet, so I’m gaining weight too. With that, and Spencer’s help with a workout routine, my butt is sitting in a way it never has before in my life.
He lifts weights with me most days, though his are much, much bigger than mine. He continues to work on his heavy lifting, while I work on tiny weights and lean muscle gains. I feel stronger each day. I’m still tired, and my chest still hurts a little. My skin is more sensitive after radiotherapy, and I’ve yet to have my period since this all began.
I’m not sure if it’ll ever return, but I’ve already made peace with my inability to carry children.
All in all, I feel strong. And better yet, confident.
When Spencer looks at me the way all of those other husbands I remember swooning for look at their wives, there’s no way I couldn’t be confident. There’s no way I can doubt myself when he reminds me a hundred times a day why he loves me.
I got my prince. And maybe he looks like a criminal, maybe his tattoos cost more than most homes, and maybe he cusses a lot. But he’s a prince, that’s for certain. He’s exactly who I was put on this planet for, and he was placed here for me.
“Alright, Soph.” Jess claps her hands to get the bride’s attention. “It’s time to get this show on the road. You’re gonna be my sister in an hour. You ready?”
Her nod says yes, but her terrified eyes say no.
“I just… I’m having a moment.”
Laughing, Jess leans forward and hugs her future sister-in-law. “Have your moment. It’s time for us to head in now anyway.”
We take turns hugging her. Jess fixes her veil, and Andi fixes the bust so her boobs sit like a shelf. Laine gives the bride a gentle hug and slides her thumb under Soph’s bottom lip to make sure the bright red lipstick is perfect, and I bring her hands up to show off the bouquet.
“Hold them here. This is your show, have fun.”
“I love you guys.” Soph’s eyes skitter around to each of ours. “I rarely say that to anyone. But I love you guys.”
“We love you too.” I give her one last hug, then I snatch up my smaller bouquet and rush to the door. I’ll be walking first, then Andi. Laine next, and Jess just before the bride. “See you soon. Don’t run away.”
“No promises.” Soph gives a nervous chuckle. “Okay, I’m ready.”
“Okay.”
The music changes and lets me know it’s time to walk, so I exit the room at the side of the church and
step to the back of the crowd. Everyone stands, their eyes adoring, their smiles genuine. My brothers hang out on the groom’s side; six months of forced friendship changes things. And Jay’s closest and dearest stand beside him at the top of the aisle. Jay, Kane, Eric, Spencer, Riley.
Even Angelo has been invited into the bridal party. Surprising, since I’ve been witness to heated arguments and cheap potshots during many card nights over the last couple months. There seems to be bad blood flowing between them as potently as there is between Spencer and Mitchell. But both feuds have been put to rest for today at least, because Angelo smiles and waits for his girlfriend to enter.
I save Spencer for last. I study everyone else’s suits, their shoes, their shiny belts and shaking hands. I study their smiling faces and adoring eyes. But I save Spencer for last, because I know once I get to him, I won’t want to look away.
I don’t look the same as I did when I was a teenager. And I don’t look the same as I did when he and I met.
I look like a new version of me, quiet but confident, thin but not as frail, a stickler for language, but not as precious about it.
I find the thickest set of legs that stand at the front, then I allow my eyes to slide along them as Pachelbel’s “Canon in D” escorts me along the aisle. I peek from beneath my lashes – yet another thing I lost and appreciate so much more now that I’ve grown them back – and swallow when my gaze slides over his hips. Spencer’s hands are clasped, and wring together in my line of sight. He’s nervous, but oh so handsome. I lift my eyes over the white shirt and black vest he wears, both of which are like a second skin on his large body.
Finally, once I walk past my brothers, and they don’t dart into the aisle and tackle me, I allow my gaze to move to Spencer’s. Our eyes meet, and a tidal wave of emotion slams into my chest. Tears burn the backs of my eyes, but I smile. I swipe the tears away and walk just a little faster toward the man I love.
This isn’t even my wedding, but it kind of feels that way. It feels special for us.
I’m supposed to step to the left and fill out Sophia’s side of the bridal party, but Spence steps out of formation and pulls me into his arms. His thick biceps wrap around my shoulders, and his heart presses to my ear.
“You’re supposed to stand beside the guys.”
“I know.” He buries his face in the side of my neck and breathes. “I just needed a second to remind you I love you.”
I give a happy sigh, and push the thought that a hundred people are watching us out of my mind. “I love you too. Thank you for reminding me.”
“You look beautiful, Priss. I love what you did with your hair.”
“Yeah?” I pull back and finger the ends of my pixie cut. I don’t intend to keep it this short forever. But it takes time to grow back, so I needed a style that would look good for today, which meant sacrificing a little. “I like it too.”
“I think it grew back redder.”
“Shut up!” I smack his chest and try to step away. “No teasing.”
“Not teasing.” He pulls me in once more and risks his life when Mitchell growls. “Save me a dance later?”
I smile. “Of course. I’ve saved them all for you.”
He flashes the most beautiful grin. “Remember the last time we were at a wedding together?”
My mind races back to Jess and Kane’s nuptials, and Spencer’s visit in the bathroom. I swallow to moisten my suddenly dry throat. “Uh-huh.”
He nods. “Uh-huh.” Winking, he steps back, releasing me and chuckling when I stumble. “Save that for me too.”
“Okay…” I stumble a little to the left, and smile when Mitchell’s growl can be heard twenty feet away.
“Oh, Priss?”
I look up and meet Spencer’s eyes.
“Did you know Mitch is fucking Nadia?”
“What?!” I swing around to face my brother, who watches us in horror.
“Alright, move.” Andi grabs my arm and tugs me along the aisle. “You’re taking up too much attention.”
My eyes flash to Jay, then to the end of the aisle, where twin blondes make their way toward us. Angelo watches Laine with eyes that promise something similar soon, and Kane watches Jess like he’s about to tear her dress off and show the rest of us how it’s done.
My face burns red, made worse when Jess reaches us, and Kane practically makes good on his promise. But then the music changes, and Soph proves she isn’t a runaway bride.
She looks like a real princess, if princesses wore tutu-esque gowns and looked like ballerinas even without ballet slippers. She might be the most beautiful bride I’ve ever seen, an impressive feat, considering I saw Jess Lenaghan get married.
Jay is like a pressure cooker waiting to burst. I see Kane holding him back, and Eric, and then Spence has to grab on too. But Soph takes her sweet time and makes him wait for her. Just like always.
She’s stunning, and her beauty makes me emotional all over again.
When she finally reaches the front, and our group turns around, Spencer catches my eye and winks. He’s the tallest of his group, and I’m the smallest. He’s the darkest, I’m the lightest. He’s the strongest, and I have tiny little pea-shaped muscles on my biceps.
We’re opposites in every way, and yet, we fit. Like two pieces of a puzzle that were made to be together. We’re perfectly imperfect, but in our imperfections, we’re perfect for each other.
“Dearly beloved. We are gathered here today…”
I can’t believe Jay agreed to Angelo being ordained to marry them.
29
Checkmate
Diamond-studded wedding gowns. Extravagant flowers. Fancy church and expensive suits. This wedding is attended by Fortune 500 money, and pro athletes who’ve fought for tens of millions per bout.
Lawyers, doctors, security. And cops.
Fucking cops. I loathe cops.
There’s money in every pocket. Money in every bank
I sit in the very back row of Jay Bishop’s wedding ceremony in a black suit that blends in with everyone else’s. Collar on, coat over that, none of my ink showing, except for that on my hand.
Two baby girls sit mere feet from me. Black hair. Icy blonde hair. Sweet little smiles and bright blue eyes.
They play with teething rings, and have no clue that today marks something big in their short life.
*The Checkmate Series finale is near. Can you feel the storm brewing?*
Author’s Note
Sometimes, I wonder if writing the tragic parts of my books is inviting the bad karma into my life. I swear, the whole time I was writing Riley’s book, I freaked every time I ran in the mornings, because I was so sure a car would hit me in the dark and I would lose a leg. It’s irrational, I know. But it still made me hyper aware while I ran in the mornings.
It didn’t make me stop running. But it made me become bouncier (like I said, irrational). I was always prepared to jump and bounce, rather than go with the collision and get crushed between a car and a wall/guard rail/asteroid. In case you didn’t guess this about me yet, sometimes my imagination can run a little out of control.
Well, I started writing Abigail’s story, and her heartbreaking diagnosis hit me one night. It was like a shot of lightning. I sat up in bed and literally gasped, because I felt so awful for Spence and what was coming for him. It was in that moment I knew what would bring that man to his knees.
This is where fiction and reality collide.
My grandmother died of cancer when she was still quite young.
My father died of cancer when he was still in his forties.
I might be the most morbid person I know, because I’ve been waiting for my turn. It’s horrible, and the whole ‘don’t invite negativity into your life’ thing is completely nullified by this blinding fear I had for what I was sure was my eventual reality.
Somewhere around the 40% mark into writing this book, I felt a lump in my right breast. It hurt, it was… well, lumpy, and it scared me. But I’m t
he chick who has lived her entire life in fight or flight mode. That week, I chose flight. I stared at myself in the mirror, I declared I wouldn’t tolerate that kind of inconvenience in my life – I had books to write and children to see to – so I shrugged it off and said not today.
But the thing is, denial doesn’t actually get you anywhere but deeper into the hole.
That particular week, my husband was away at fight camp. Yup, just like how Bobby and the guys do their fight camp a couple times a year.
I’m very much a ‘bottle it up and let it fester’ kinda gal. Remember, fight or flight. There’s no in between for me. So I didn’t tell my husband about what I maybe found. I didn’t say a damn word.
Well, come Sunday night, he got home, we’d been apart for a few days, so naturally, he grabbed my boobs and made a play to get lucky. What happened next was kind of scary.
He felt the lumps. After being together for so long, he knows my body as well as (possibly better than) I do. So instead of getting lucky, he sat up straight and asked me what the actual F is going on.
We were in bed (I’m sure I’ve painted the picture by now), but instead of getting some, he sat beside me (under me) and made me call my doctor. It wasn’t a suggestion. He made me do it. That was the Sunday night, and the very earliest I could get in was Tuesday at noon.
So I was back to denial. I literally didn’t bring it up again for two days. I pretended my world was fine. I didn’t even tell my best friends, because I didn’t want to be a drama llama and have to come back with the news it was only a pimple deep inside or something weird like that.
Tuesday came, my doctor asked me to take my shirt and bra off, then she told me not to tell her where the lump was. She wanted to see if she could find it herself.