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Lenore must have mentioned that Father Michael would be performing the ceremony. He thought that was dramatic and unnecessary.
I told him I needed it to be done right. In a church with a priest. No city hall. I told him I didn’t want the cartel thinking it’s not a real marriage. Not that I really think they would. We’d be legally married in a ceremony at civil hall too.
“The men have secured the chapel, sir,” Antonio says to me.
I nod and the roof door opens.
“Still not sure why a justice of the peace wouldn’t have done it,” Dante notes.
I don’t comment. He doesn’t like Scarlett simply because she is a De La Cruz. I understand.
Noah steps out first. He’s dressed in one of my old suits. It’s got to be at least ten years old, but he looks better than he did a few days ago. He smiles and nods to me. He’s not a bad kid. I only spent about an hour with him, but no one would believe he was cut from the same cloth as his two older brothers.
Then again, they only share one parent. Scarlett and Noah’s mother was Manuel De La Cruz’s second wife. He left his first wife, Diego and Angel’s mother, for her. I have a feeling that had something to do with the bad blood between them.
I gesture to the pilot that we’re ready to go as Noah pushes the door wider and Scarlett steps onto the roof. She’s huddled into a heavier coat than I’d expect for the temperature and is hugging it closed.
When she sees me, she quickly averts her gaze.
Lenore steps out after her.
“Thank you, Noah,” I say to him as they approach, then turn to Scarlett. “You look nice,” I tell her. “As always.”
She looks up at me, her lashes thicker for the mascara accentuating the soft caramel-brown of her eyes.
“You don’t look like a Neanderthal,” she says.
“Well, that’s something.”
“I didn’t say you weren’t one.”
I grunt.
She shivers.
“Are you cold?”
She looks around anxiously. Shakes her head.
Once the others are on board, I gesture for her to climb on.
Her expression grows weary at the chopper, the blades whirring overhead growing louder as they kick up the wind.
“It’s safe,” I tell her and help her in.
“Why can’t we just get married here?”
“We need a church.” I close the door and when we lift off, Scarlett grips the edges of her seat. I reach over to strap her in.
For the duration of the short flight, no one but Noah speaks. Lenore doesn’t much care for the chopper and it’s obvious how Scarlett feels. Noah, at least, is excited. Exactly as I’d expect a boy his age to be. He’s asking all kinds of questions, eyes bright and exhilarated.
It’s a short ride and once we arrive on the mainland, everyone unloads. The SUVs are waiting to take us to the chapel. A small and mostly unknown place in a village just a little too far out of the city to become trampled by tourists.
It’s always strange to me how throngs of people can collect in one place. Everyone literally overrunning each other, and call it a vacation. As if crowds are remotely enjoyable. Meanwhile, if they ventured just a mile farther, they’d find undisturbed, quiet beauty.
“Where are we going?” Scarlett asks me as I lead her to one of the SUVs.
“You’ll see.”
I climb into the SUV beside her and our procession starts its drive along the coast to Santa Elena, a tiny fishing village where Father Michael awaits our arrival at the chapel known to the locals as the Blue Chapel.
Scarlett keeps her gaze on the water. “It’s pretty out here.”
“It is.”
She turns to me. “Why did you give me your mother’s ring?”
I’m surprised she knows, but I guess I shouldn’t be. One look at my mother’s portrait and she’d recognize the ring.
“I don’t know,” I say. It’s an honest answer. I’m tired of going around in circles trying to make sense of things that don’t make sense. That’s all I seem to run into with her.
“I won’t take it. When it’s over, I mean. I’ll give it back to you.”
“I told you it’s yours. I have no use for it.”
“It’s your mother’s ring. Even you have to have more feeling than that.”
The words are a blow. “It’s yours, Scarlett.”
“I’ll wear it as long as we’re married, but I won’t take it from you. It’s not right.”
We’ll see. I don’t say it out loud and she shifts her gaze back out the window.
“Are you ever jealous of them?” She gestures to the couples on the beach bundled up against the cool evening, taking in the last of the sun.
“I don’t think about it.”
“You don’t think about a different life?” she asks, looking at me again. “Where you’re not you?”
“Do you?”
“What do you think?”
I glance beyond her momentarily, taking in the colors of the sunset on the water before meeting her eyes again. That’s when it happens. When I have that brain rattling moment again. When a flash of memory sends a shock of electricity straight through me.
