Page 200 of Revere: A Legacy Novel

Dante sighed. “Okay. Here we are.”

With the Waldorf cleared for the day of guests, and the employees busy preparing the dining and ballroom for later, the entrance and winding staircase was empty. Except for Catherine and her father at the bottom, and Cross with his back turned at the top. He had only been given a time and told where and how to stand. Nothing more.

“Don’t be too long,” Dante told her. “You’re getting married in an hour, and it’s not nice to make your future wait.”

“I thought …”

“What?”

“You might be sad today,” she admitted.

Dante smiled gently. “Catherine, I am. I am sad, but I am happy. I am happy because I know you have finally found your footing, and made your own footsteps. Happy because you have found a man who adores you and loves you far more than anyone understands. So I give you away today, and your last name changes, and yes, that makes me sad. As it should, I think, but I am far too happy for you to even feel it, vita mia.”

“I love you, Daddy.”

He stroked her cheek with a careful hand, making sure not to smudge her perfectly done makeup. “My impossibility, remember?”

“Your never-meant-to-be.”

“Keep proving me wrong, Catherine.” Dante nodded at the winding staircase. “Go, he’s waiting.”

She kissed her father’s cheek, took a soothing breath, and headed up the staircase. Her heels clicked under the heavy weight of the dress, but the closer she came to Cross, the calmer she felt. With his back turned to her, all she could see was the black of his tux, and the diamonds in his cufflinks. At his sides, his fingers clenched and unclenched rhythmically.

Nerves, she knew.

He only did that when he was nervous. It was so unusual for him because he was the calm in chaos. Still waters in a hurricane.

Catherine stopped a few steps away from the top of the stairs. “Cross?”

His shoulders tensed like her voice had surprised him, but she knew that couldn’t be the case. He had to have heard her heels, as she hadn’t been quiet at all. She heard his quick intake of air, and saw the way his shined Italian leather shoe tapped against the tiles.

“You can turn around now,” she said softly.

Cross did, spinning slowly on his heel until he came to a stop facing her. His gaze was still drawn down to the floor, but she could see the tightness in his jaw like he was trying to keep steady. His gaze lifted, starting from the floor and rising slowly, as though she were water, and he was taking one long drink.

At her middle, Catherine clasped her own trembling hands together, and smiled when his eyes finally met hers.

So dark.

So familiar.

She found water there—unshed tears glazing the soul-deep gaze she loved so very much. She found the emotions and the nerves he was trying to hide running wild in his eyes. He took another breath, shakier than the last, and the tenseness in his jaw relaxed a bit.

Still, he said nothing.

“You didn’t want to do this in front of people,” she murmured, “and I knew that.”

He nodded once. “Yeah, babe.”

“Is this good?”

“This is perfect, Catherine.” Cross took one step, and then another. His gaze traveled over her again as he reached out to stroke his thumbs over her cheekbones. “You are so beautiful, my girl.”

The wetness on his lashes started to fall, but Catherine caught it quickly enough, and wiped it away. He smiled, and let out a short laugh.

“Jesus, just …” Cross sat down on the stairs, and buried his face in his hands. Catherine dropped down with him just as fast. “We’re getting married.”

“Well … yeah.”