Page 328 of John + Siena: The Complete Duet

Lucian cleared his throat. “And yet, despite the fact she was bipolar, all I remember about my mother is how beautiful, loving, and wonderful she was, John.”

“Perhaps your perspective is colored by the fact she died when you were like seven, or something.”

“Perhaps, but I don’t think it matters, either.” Lucian smiled faintly again. “You should never—ever—be afraid to have a child just like you, son. You were an amazing boy who grew into an incredible man. You were perfect—more like me than your mother, but with just enough of Jordyn to color you up. You made your mother and I better people, John. You made us better parents. We learned to stop and take account of ourselves, and of others. We learned not to be ignorant in our thoughts and feelings about things people suffer with, and often suffer in silence.”

Lucian shrugged, adding, “You were, and still are, one of our greatest gifts. And if anything I have ever done makes you afraid to be a father, then I am sorry.”

“You are the best father.”

“Who still makes mistakes sometimes,” Lucian said.

“That’s what humans do.”

It had just taken him a long time to realize that.

“Please don’t be afraid to have a child like you, John. Don’t ever be afraid to become a better man because of it, either.”

John stood at the end of the makeshift aisle. Silk and tulle and bushels of white and pink flowers covered the place in light colors, and floral scents. Guests had already filled the fifty or so white chairs set up—their ceremony was small, but their party would be massive.

Siena liked the harp, so a woman dressed in purple played one in the corner. An ordained minister waited behind John and Andino, ready to begin whenever those doors at the back opened.

They could have had this ceremony in a church, as would have been better for la famiglia, but John refused to wait. He would not spend time on useless couple’s counseling when he already knew what he wanted for the rest of his life.

He didn’t need a priest to confirm it.

Siena was his.

And he was hers.

Andino’s hand clapped John on the shoulder. “You ready?”

John nodded.

Sweet Jesus.

He had been ready for his whole life. It just took three decades to finally meet her. Because that’s what Siena was to him—his life.

“Yeah,” John said.

Andino nodded to someone in the back, and the waiting man stepped up to the doors. He swung them open, and took a step back to get out of the way.

There, waiting, was Siena.

In her A-line, ivory lace wedding dress that swept the floor, and trailed behind her with a four foot train. Her veil kept her face hidden, but not quite enough. He could still see the way her painted red lips curved with love when his gaze landed on hers.

She was beautiful.

So perfect.

He was going to spend the rest of his life loving this woman, and making sure she knew it every second of every single fucking day of their lives.

She had been his catalyst.

She had been his saving grace.

She was his everything.

Loving her forever was the least he could do.