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Nero claims it’s just because Hans is our neighbor, so it’s convenient to see him, but really, those two are a pair of peas in an unhinged pod.
It was also Nero’s idea to order that ridiculous black robe to wear over his suit. It’s truly absurd. And when he stepped into the backyard wearing it, I figured Hans would tell him to take it off. But instead, Hans grinned and presented Nero with a red-handled katana as a thank-you for marrying them.
So now the two men stand together, under an arch of beautiful flowers, with Hans in his three-piece dark gray suit with black shirt and tie, and Nero in his black robe with a sword strapped to his back.
It’s ridiculous. And wonderful.
And then I watch Hans’s expression change, and I know she’s here.
Hans
I don’t deserve her.
Cassandra smiles at me, her arm tucked into her dad’s, as she walks toward me.
Her black curls are twisted with silver threads and pulled back into a loose braid down her back, letting me see all of her glowing face, her cheeks pink from joy and the chill in the air.
Each step she takes has her dress fluttering around her. The silver gauzy material is absolutely stunning on her and just a few shades lighter than my suit.
I would have married her in her jean shorts, but she wanted a dress. And her parents wanted to help plan. So we waited these few long months. And it was worth it.
She’s so fucking worth it.
She wouldn’t let me see the dress, and as much as I love it, I can’t stop looking at her smile.
I haven’t seen her since this morning. And it’s been too long.
I step away from Nero and meet them at the front row.
Mr. Cantrell kisses both of Cassandra’s cheeks, then holds his hand out to me. “Take care of her, yeah?”
I shake his hand, then turn to the woman I’m about to make my wife. “Until my last breath.”
Cassie
“I have something for you,”I whisper up at my new husband.
Hans looks down at me. “What more could you possibly give me?”
The ceremony ended a few minutes ago, and now everyone is mingling in the garden while we get ready to take photos.
I drag him over to one of the planters along the side of the house, where I stashed the surprise.
“Close your eyes,” I tell him, and he listens.
Grabbing his hand, I turn it upward and set the gift in his palm.
Hans opens his eyes. And then he breathes deep, tracing a finger across the lettering.
It’s just a stack of yellow Post-it notes. With the same words as before.
“Thank you,” he whispers.
And just like I knew he would, he lifts each piece of paper to make sure they’re all there.
I did them in the opposite order from the way he’d saved them before, with the newest at the bottom.
When he reaches the last one, he pauses at the words.
