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I don’t think Bryant has ever been prouder. I’m not sure she can see it from where she walks at his side. He wears a stern smile but his eyes are clear. His back straight. He asked Daphne if she really wanted him to walk her down the aisle given their complicated history. It was Daphne who insisted on it. She wouldn’t have it any other way.
It might have seemed like a small decision among many others, but it wasn’t. The Morellis present a united front. Their disagreements happen behind the scenes. Their settlements. It was enough that Daphne chose me without consulting her parents. She would not embarrass her father by shutting him out of this moment.
I think she’s hopeful it will set a new precedent for the future.
My little painter has more power than she realizes. Now that she’s a grown woman, out in the world, she’s relatively free from the things that terrified her before. Bryant respects that. Or at least he’s come to terms with it. Or at least he’s pretending, just for today.
I don’t think he is, though. I think he’s truly the proud father he seems to be in this moment.
Jesus, she’s stunning.
“I can’t breathe,” I hear myself say to Sin.
He squeezes my shoulder. “She’ll be here soon. I’ll wait with you.”
Finally, she reaches the end of the aisle with her father, and I step down to meet them. Bryant holds his hand out for me to shake. When I take it, he pulls me in close. The photos will record this as a touching moment between father-in-law and son-in-law.
They’ll catch his proud smile.
They won’t catch what he says to me.
“If you ever hurt her, I swear to Christ, you’d better believe I’ll break both your kneecaps. And then I’ll sell tickets to anyone who wants to fuck you in the ass.”
“Understood.”
We agree on this point, actually. The last person who hurt Daphne was my father, and he’s in prison, along with the men who were foolish enough to work with him.
Bryant pulls back and takes a deep breath. He lifts Daphne’s veil away from her face and takes a moment to look at her. She leans in and kisses his cheek.
Then, as if it’s difficult, he places her hand gently in mine.
She squeezes my fingers like I’m pulling her out of the water. “Hi,” she whispers, dark eyes sparkling. “You look really handsome. And hot, actually.”
I cannot speak.
The priest welcomes the guests to the church. He talks about the sacraments of marriage. He talks about love and God and worship and it’s all art, in the end. It’s her hand in mine.
I glance down at Daphne, which is a dangerous move. No matter what the priest says, I might not be able to look away.
“This is the part where we promise to stay with each other forever,” Daphne murmurs. “To have and to hold and all that. Do you think we should?”
“I don’t think you have any choice, little painter. You belong in my collection.”
“Do you think I’m just a piece of art?” she teases.
I acquired her like a piece of art because that was the only way I knew how to interact with the world. The only way I knew how to capture a piece of beauty for myself. It was a way to keep distance between us, but it didn’t work.
Because when the art is Daphne Morelli, I’m drawn in. And in. And in, until I’m as trapped as she is. Until she’s the only thing I can see.
“If you’re not a piece of art, why are you begging to be put in your frame?”
She blushes. “Do you promise you will?”
“Yes. And I promise to love you until my very last breath and after.”
And then, because she wants so much to be mine, I promise to be her husband for that long, too. I promise to honor her and cherish her and never, never let her go.
