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Sophia
“Do you want to ring this wedding celebrant of yours to see if they can fit us in?” he asks, as he drives down the highway.
I pull my phone out of my handbag and swipe until I find the number I’m after.
“Hey Curtis, how are you? I was wondering if you had any free time today? Well not exactly hang out. I’m more in need of a celebrant than a friend today. Yes, I know it’s sudden but please could you help one of your favourite friends out? Pretty please? Thanks, you’re the best. Umm hold on.” I mute the phone before turning to Lorenzo. “Do you want to go straight to his place and get married as we are, or do you want to change?” I ask.
His gaze rakes over both our outfits before he speaks, “We don’t have to rush this. We can wait if you want a big wedding.”
“I don’t want any of that. I just want to marry you,” I tell him, taking his hand that rests on the gear stick, intertwining our fingers.
“Whatever you want to do, I’m down. If you want to change, we can stop at my place.” Unmuting the phone, I lift it back to my ear.
“Curtis, would you be free in a couple of hours? Yeah? Great. We will see you then. Thanks, I owe you one,” I say, before hanging up the phone. “Okay so to your place to change and then to our wedding,” I inform him, giving his hand a squeeze.
“We’re crazy, you know that right?” he says, as he smiles at me.
“I kind of like the craziness,” I reply, which has him chuckling. “Oh, and we need to ring Niko and Ally because we need witnesses.”
“What’s one more stop on this crazy train for them?” he jokes, making me laugh.
Lorenzo turns the Audi into a cul-de-sac and pulls the car into a driveway.
“Home sweet home,” he says, turning the car off and angles himself towards me. I look out the front windscreen taking in the white cottage in front of me. The paint looks freshly done and it’s obviously well maintained. The grass has been neatly trimmed as if it was done recently. I turn to Lorenzo who has been watching me the whole time.
“It’s cute,” I tell him, because it does look like a cute little cottage.
He opens his door, so I follow his lead doing the same. He grabs my bags from the trunk then leads us to the door. Unlocking it, he holds it open, letting me walk inside first.
I follow the beige carpet down the small hallway that leads to one bedroom on the left and another on the right.
“This is my room,” he tells me, gesturing to the one on the left. “That’s a spare.” I nod, smiling at him. He takes over the tour, walking me down the hall. Cream wallpaper surrounds us, peeling in a couple spots. We enter a living room, which has a couch similar to the one in his apartment above the bar and a big screen T.V sits in front of it, on top of an entertainment unit. Surrounding the walls are photos of a younger Lorenzo with an older man. There are a few of an older couple as well.
“Your grandparents?” I ask, pointing to their wedding photo.
“Yeah, that’s them. They raised me.”
“Tell me if it’s none of my business but where were your parents?”
“My mum, their daughter passed away when I was about ten from a drug overdose. It wasn’t long after my nana died too so it was hard on my gramps,” he tells me, looking over at a photo of a teen Lorenzo with his gramps.
I can feel the love he has for that man by the adoration he looks at the photo with. It makes me reach my hand out to link my fingers through his, giving him a squeeze. He stares at our linked hands for a beat before raising his eyes to mine.
“My gramps was more of a dad to me then the guy who knocked up my mum was. He’s in prison on assault charges the last I heard, but I have nothing to do with him and it’s better that way. I don’t feel I missed out on anything, not with my grandparents taking over the parental role in my life anyway,” he explains.
“Did you have much to do with your mum?”
“Nah. She tried to come around one time when I was little, but my nana told me to go play in the room with my blocks while she talked to her. She was high and was needingmoney for her next fix. She hadn’t come back for me. I heard my grandparents talking about it later that night when they thought I was in bed.”
“I’m sorry if I’m being nosey and opening old wounds,” I tell him, feeling like it’s something I shouldn’t have pried into. He squeezes my hand before grabbing the other.
“No, it's fine. If we are gonna have a proper marriage, then we need to be able to talk about stuff. I haven’t talked to anyone about it before. It was always me and my grandparents. I don’t consider the people who gave birth to me my parents because they did nothing for me. My grandparents took custody of me when I was about a month old because my mum wasn’t coping, and she was already hooked on drugs at that point.”
“I’m sorry,” I tell him, not knowing what else to say.
“Nothing for you to be sorry for,” he says, leaning forward and kissing my forehead. “Let's finish this tour,” he says, tugging my hand down the rest of the hallway. He shows me the small bathroom and then at the back of the house is the kitchen. Small white cupboards line the top and bottom of the small space. An oven sits in the middle amongst the bench space and then in the corner is a tiny square wooden table with four matching white chairs with little red flowers painted over them.
“I’ve been meaning to renovate but haven’t had the time,” he tells me, as I look around.
