Page 199 of Revere: A Legacy Novel

She did.

Their reception was being held at the Waldorf Astoria hotel in Manhattan. Their wedding, at Saint Patrick’s Cathedral. The guest list topped six hundred, easily. Catherine stopped asking the cost of things because her parents were determined to spend a lot, and Cross’s parents were more than happy to help them out.

She simply showed up and agreed to things.

Their honeymoon was a two-week stay in a private mansion on a beach estate in Sicily.

It was too much.

It was still perfect.

“Still determined to have this dress reveal before the ceremony?” her father asked as they walked through the bottom floor of the Waldorf. “We could always send someone up to let him know you changed your mind.”

Catherine shook her head. “I think this is better.”

“Really? Your mother did all she could to hide her dress from me until those doors opened. I didn’t understand why, but I am now most grateful for it. It’s one of my fondest memories of our wedding day, considering it was all meant to be just business and nothing more.”

“We’re not like you and Ma.”

She and Cross were them.

And this was a long time in the making.

A long time coming.

She thought … maybe …

“He’s tried to see my dress a lot,” Catherine said, “and I couldn’t figure out why.”

Dante glanced at her. “Curious, maybe?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Surely that man does not have cold feet, Catherine.”

She laughed. “Definitely not, but everyone has made such a big deal about the dress, and seeing me for the first time. I think it got to him, and he freaked out.”

“About what?”

Catherine pressed her lips together.

She didn’t know how to explain it.

Men like Cross did not have emotional outbursts in public settings. He had just turned twenty-eight that month; he was a grown man who did not share his feelings openly with barely anyone. She had never even seen him cry. She thought he was worried that he might be overwhelmed in front of six hundred guests; many would be made up of men just like him. She didn’t want to do that to him.

This was better.

A private reveal between just the two of them, where no one could see or know what was said, or what happened. So he could be authentic, and so could she. Their wedding was such a show—a beautiful day for them, sure, but still a show for the people who flew in from all over the world to be a part of it as guests.

This moment was not a part of that show.

It was Cross and Catherine.

Just them.

Only them.

“Just … I want to do it this way for him, Daddy.”