Page 81 of Cillian

“What does that mean, baby?”

“It just means…that I love you.”

***

I'd fallen asleep after such a passionate night, that I'd forgotten to tie up my hair. But Cillian remembered the little things, and instead of waking up to head full of mats and tangles, I learned that he’d twisted my strands in eight suitable twists and a neatly tied silk scarf. By the time I was alert Cillian had packed all of our things, and honestly was just waiting for me to wake so that he didn’t disrupt my slumber.

When I got dressed, I asked him if he wanted me to blindfold me again but he insisted it wasn't necessary. Hand in hand we walked to his car, and soon he was opening the door for me, helping me inside.

The ride home was quiet but calming, him holding me close with his non-driving hand as he drove at modest speed with no rush to be home. We felt closer somehow. Every doubt that I'd ever had about him had been a thing of the past. He was my darkness, but I was his light and as long as we had faith and trust in each other, nothing and no one would ever come between us.

We arrived home and anticipating no phone calls or surprise visits, our plan was to sleep in, eat and waste a day doing whatever felt right to us. Just as I was about to put the keys in the door, Cillian stopped me, offering to do it himself.

“You have to let me do it the proper this time.”

“Do what?” I asked, his answer lovingly lifting me in his arms and carrying me over the threshold.

“Mmm.” He kissed my cheek. “Now we're proper married,” he joked as I wrapped my arms around his shoulder and tapped his nose, smiling.

“That's one tradition down. But if you really want to do something proper, there’s one more thing you can do to make me happy.”

Twenty-Nine

Cillian

It had taken a few weeks to plan, but it was good to have a sister because I don't think I would have had the capability to plan all this without one. Waiting at an altar was a bit jarring by comparison, but my wife—more than anything—wanted a Baptist wedding.

“Look at this happy motherfucker,” Paddy, my best man pulled at my neck in attempt to roughhouse me.

“Fuck off,” pushing him off me at the start of “Her Comes the Bride” beginning to play.

A series of bridesmaids—which including my sister being the maid of honor—began to settle on the altar opposite of me and my groomsmen.

I was ashamed to admit I was holding my breath a little bit. We were already married, but there was nothing I wouldn't do for this woman. She gave me everything a scoundrel like me could want so it seemed like such a small ask to remarry in a fashion fit more for her.

A vision in white waited at the church entrance as her father took her hand and proceeded to walk her down. My palms were already sweaty and my stomach was turning in knots. Please let me not fuck this up.

There are probably a million things going on in the background, so I decided my only focus was going to be the woman walking down the aisle. My eyes were tearing up on me. Maybe it was because I knew what was coming this time. I just wasn't prepared for how sentimental the sight of her would make me.

Paddy used his handkerchief to wipe my face off, saving me from a face of heavy tears when Queenie finally approached, as I could see her smiling under her veil. My heart was about as heavy as a stone right now. It was like I could handle it but was far from handling it at the same time.

She giggled when she noticed my hands were shaking at my attempt to pull up her veil, as two smoldering eyes studied me lovingly. A fairytale princess if there ever was one.

Looking over my shoulder at my brothers, I couldn't believe my luck at getting to marry this woman again. Whether it was appropriate or not, I pulled her in as close as possible to me, as the pastor began to speak the vows.

“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today in the presence of God, family and friends, to witness a joyous occasion, the union of Elizabeth Stanton and Cillian Sullivan in Holy Matrimony.”

“You look beautiful.” Bending down to whisper in her ear.

“You look very handsome.” She mouthed, suppressing a sniffle as I reached in and wiped the tear falling down her cheek. The pastor kept on with the invocation, but I’d barely heard it. I was too distracted looking at my pretty wife to be paying attention before the declaration of intent.

“Elizabeth Stanton and Cillian Sullivan. As you stand here, before friends, family and God, do you take Cillian Sullivan to be your lawfully wedded husband? To love him, comfort him, honor him and keep him, in sickness and health. Forsaking all others. Be faithful to him, as long as you both shall live?”

Queenie turned to me and I swear I couldn’t stop smiling. “I do.”

“Do you take Elizabeth Stanton to be your wife? To love her, comfort her. To honor and keep her. In sickness and health, forsaking all others. Be faithful to her, as long as you both shall live?”

“You bloody bet I do.” Next we were prompted to exchange rings, once Paddy handed them to me.

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