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“I have zero intention of doing so,” I said.
“Good,” Finn said. “Now, before you walk out of this door, you need one last drink as a single man.”
Finn produced a bottle of what looked to be extraordinarily expensive scotch from his jacket and three shot glasses.
“Holy shit, is that Lagavulin?” Tony asked.
“It is,” Finn said. “Bought it special for today. The rest of this bottle will be in your house when you get back from your honeymoon. But first, a toast.”
“Hear, hear,” Tony said, taking one of the glasses. Finn poured them to the rim and raised his.
“To happiness, to love, to eternity. To Kieran and Sofia Duggan,” Finn said. “Salut.”
“Salut,” Tony echoed.
We each took a large sip of our whiskey, then downed the rest.
“That is not a shot whiskey,” Tony said, coughing.
“No, no it is not,” Finn said, eyes watering. “That is a sipping scotch. I suggest you do not take shots with it at home.”
“Noted,” I said, shaking my head. “Alright. I think I’m ready.”
“Good, because I just got the cue,” Finn said. “It’s go time, friend.”
“Hey,” I said, stopping him before he left through the door to the waiting wedding coordinator outside. “I just wanted to thank you and Wendy for watching the house and everything while we were gone.”
“No problem,” he said. “Sergio and Sofia’s sisters are taking care of the baby. All I have to do is make sure your house doesn’t burn down. Wouldn’t that be ironic.”
“Don’t even joke about that,” Tony laughed.
“Seriously, thank you,” I said.
“Anytime, bud,” Finn said. “Have fun out there. Remember this day. It only gets better.”
As Finn walked away, I turned to Tony, who was examining the bottle.
“Want another?” I asked.
“No,” he said. “Just remembering what my dad once said about the difference between whiskey and scotch.”
“What was that?”
“He said they say whiskey comes from America and Scotch from Scotland, but the real truth is they all come from the devil’s own bar.”
“He didn’t like whiskey?”
“Oh, no, he loved whiskey. Whiskey just didn’t like him,” he said. “I, however, have no such problem.”
“Well, when it’s your turn at the altar, I’ll make sure you have some good whiskey too,” I said.
“Yeah, that’ll be the day. The day Xavier Anthony Russo gets hitched is a day that will live in infamy.”
“Your first name is Xavier?” I asked. “I never knew that.”
“No one does,” he said. “Well, Sofia does, since she signed my paperwork when I joined your restaurant, but other than her and Wendy, nobody.”
“And now me.”
“And now you,” he said. “Oh, looks like it’s my turn. See you out there, groom.”
“See you out there, best man,” I said.
And so, I was alone. I picked up the bottle of scotch and popped open the top. I took one last, long sip and put the top back on. It steeled me for the moment. Not that I was afraid of marriage or the commitment or anything like that. I was scared of myself. I was scared of the emotion that I knew was building up inside me.
I loved Sofia with my entire heart, and the moment she came down that aisle, I was going to see my bride and know she was choosing me for the rest of her life. It was overwhelming. I might need the extra liquid courage.
“Kieran?” a voice asked from what felt like a long way off. It was Amanda Lander, the girl who was running the wedding as a coordinator.
“Ready?” I asked.
“Are you?” she asked.
“I am,” I said. “I have been.”
“Come on, then,” she said. “Let’s get you out there.”
Going down the aisle myself felt like a blur. My mother was in the front row with my baby boy, and I was standing next to Finn and Tony, the pastor between us and the bridesmaids, Wendy and Helen. As the wedding march began, I gazed up the aisle of the restored church, the same one that had burned on one of my first days in town.
They had done so much to fix this place in such a short time. Sofia and I had donated our own time to help restore it, and now it was a historical landmark for Ashford, even rebuilt, and a wedding venue for couples like us. We were the first ones to be married there since it was fixed. In attendance, luminaries from the town stood in the wings, along with the governor, the mayor, and even former Chief Arn McDaniel, wearing a tuxedo and linking arms with his adorably tiny wife.
Suddenly, Sofia swept into view, and I felt the wind come out of me like I had been punched by God himself. She was as gorgeous as I had ever seen her. The white dress flowed behind her, and the veil over her face was lacy and traditional. Her father walked her gently down, tears streaming from his proud face. When they reached me, he let her go, and for one brief second, one hand was still in his while the other was in mine. Then, she let go of him and joined me on the altar.
