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The corners of my mouth turn upward as an idea floats into my mind, one that just might be a decent compromise and prevent hard feelings from occurring on either side of the family. “There might be a way to do that,” I state with a sly grin. “But I'm going to have to ask a favor of you.”
“Oh, and what's that?” she asks innocently.
My grin only widens. “I'm going to need you to stand up for this idea I've got if you truly believe in it. Don't back down, and don't let anybody railroad you into doing something or being something you don't want to be. Not even me.”
Vienna's eyebrows arch high on her forehead, and she smirks up at me with a crimson blush still reddening her cheeks from the exertion of our tryst. “You sure you can handle that?”
“I'm not sure, to be honest. But seeing as feisty, sassy Vienna is sexy as hell to me, I plan on spending the rest of my life finding out.”
EPILOGUE
Vienna
Three Months Later...
This dress fits me perfectly. Not exactly snow white, but an antique, sexy, Victorian type of cream color that's both timeless and sophisticated. It's also absolutely beautiful, and the cut of the slim-fitting, calf-length dress fits me like a glove and accentuates the curve of my hips and the swell of my breasts.
It’s the perfect choice for the dress that I will stand before my family members and promise to love the man who's been the love of my life since I was a teenager.
That's right, today I will stand before my family and marry Cohen Bradley.
Though it won’t be every cousin, aunt, and sibling to each relative four times removed, today is the day Cohen and I have decided to become husband and wife.
And our family will be in attendance. My mother and father, and Cohen's mother and father will be there. No one else. At least, not until the reception at the community hall gets underway later on tonight, a party which I compromised by allowing Cohen's mother to plan and execute all the festivities that went along with it.
The compromise was simple—the ceremony is ours, and the party afterward could be attended by anyone they sought fit to be there.
Which is exactly the suggestion I had planned to make to Cohen the day after our engagement party, but instead, I let him believe it was his idea first. You know, a compromise.
Surprisingly, both of our parents took the news rather well. Cohen's mother got the party she wanted to throw, to be able to show off her dashing son and his blushing bride, and we got our intimate, short-but-sweet and beautiful ceremony, with only our parents there to witness it.
Now, I'm standing here with my father, who looks about ready to cry at any given moment, and my mother, who's already crying into the tissue balled up in her hand, and I'm waiting for Cohen’s mom to come back through the door and tell me it's time.
Time to walk into the room where the town hall’s clerk will perform a civil ceremony and make me Mrs. Vienna Bradley. Something I've dreamed about for as long as I can remember.
“We’re really going to do this,” I say, turning to my dad.
He tilts his head, giving me a jokingly wary look. “Don't tell me you've got cold feet now,” he says wryly. “If what I saw earlier when I was downstairs where Cohen’s getting ready with his father is any indication, I'm not sure that boy is going to let you get away from this hall without taking his name first, Vi. Be warned.”
I laugh, mostly because I know he's right. Cohen has been practically vibrating for the last forty-eight hours, using every chance he's had to remind me that soon he'll be able to call me his wife, and there's nothing now that could prevent it from happening.
There's actually a mental image running through my head of me jokingly telling him that I don't think we should get married, which then results in Cohen tossing me over his shoulder like a caveman and running down the aisle toward the clerk to make sure I say the words needed in order for us to finally become married.
But that's not something I could ever joke about, and I certainly can't imagine not marrying Cohen Bradley now.
Since we sat down and voiced our concerns to his parents, advising that we had different plans for how our wedding day would go, things have been different. They've been good. Really good.
When Cohen told me that he found sassy Vienna sexy, he wasn't kidding. And each time I use my new assertiveness to let someone know—whether it be him or someone else in his presence—that there's something I want to change, or do differently, or give an opinion about, he gives me that faint crooked smile of his, and I have to look away. Because if I lock eyes with him for too long, I see the smoldering lust that burns away in his eyes, and it's much harder to maintain my stance, much less do anything else other than sneaking off to a room somewhere with him to try to quench that lust.
Cohen's mother suddenly appears in the doorway, her hand gripping the door handle and pushing the door open wide. She's practically bursting at the seams.
“They're ready,” she advises us, her voice thick with emotion.
This is it, I think to myself. There's no turning back now.
Not that I want to, but it's just hard sometimes to fathom that we're finally going to get to do this.
To be us. Cohen and Vienna Bradley.
