Page 119 of Notes About Vodka

Rhea adds with a wink, “And may you both always find reasons to dance, even in the snow.” The table bursts into laughter, the warmth of friendship enveloping us.

Val, never missing a moment, leans to whisper once more: “?? — ??? ??????.”You are my heart. His voice, thick with emotion, is my warmth, my home. The Russian words resonate deeply, wrapping around my heart and making me feel both cherished and seen, as if his love speaks to my soul beyond language.

The champagne sparkles on my tongue, but it’s the heat of his hand in mine, the ring that binds us, and the sound of our friends’ laughter that makes this night eternal. “To Laura and Val,” Skipper says, raising his glass. “May your life be filled with love, laughter, and endless adventures.”

“Hear, hear!” Rhea and Sebastian echo, clinking their glasses with ours.

The meal is delicious, and the conversationis filled with stories and laughter. Rhea shares some hilarious anecdote from our college days, Skipper recounts life in Dallas, and Sebastian talks about his latest photography projects. It’s a perfect evening, surrounded by the people we love most.

As the night winds down, Val and I step outside for a moment alone. The snow has stopped, and the city is bathed in a soft, ethereal glow from the streetlights. We stand there, holding each other, and I can’t help but feel overwhelmed with gratitude.

“We did it,” Val whispers, his breath warm against my ear.

“Yeah, we did,” I reply, smiling up at him.

This day marks the beginning of our journey as husband and wife. It’s been a long road to get here, filled with challenges and triumphs, but we’ve made it. And we stand there, wrapped in each other’s arms.

When we finally make it to bed, Val makes love to me slowly. Christening our bed for the first time as married, I come deeply, pulling Val with me.

Chapter Thirty-Five

VAL

“Vodka is often marketed in ways that appeal to younger audiences, increasing the risk of early alcohol abuse. Underage drinking can have long-term negative effects on brain development and increase the likelihood of developing alcohol dependence later in life.”

The days swirl into a whirlwind of paperwork, meetings, and wedding planning. Each night blurs into the next as I pour over forms and draft letters, reaching out to senators—from Alabama, Florida, New York, Pennsylvania, and Connecticut—hoping for a thread of support to untangle our legal knots. Hope fuels my persistence, knowing what’s at stake: a future where nothing can keep us apart.

We decide that after Laura’s graduation in May, when my parents can visit, we’ll finally have the wedding we always dreamed of—surrounded by everyone we love, laughter filling the air, and joy carrying us through the day.

One bright afternoon, I'm off from the City Tavern and Laura has a break from studying. She heads out to hunt for her wedding dress, excitement radiating from her every step, but I catch a flicker of nervous anticipation in her smile. Her mind is buzzing with dreams and possibilities—she's imagined this moment since she was a little girl, and now, it’s real. She wonders if the dress she chooses will capture how deeply she loves me and the life we’re building together.

I set off to pick up my tux, both of us agreeing to keep our choices a surprise.

The secrecy adds a thrilling tension, a promise of the magic that awaits.

She pauses at the door, her eyes sparkling. “No peeking,” she teases with a wink, her voice bright with excitement and hope. Watching her leave, heart full, I’m reminded how lucky I am—twice blessed to call her mine.

The tailor’s shop is warm and polished, a place where elegance is stitched into every seam. I choose a classic black tux—sleek, timeless—but add personal touches: a crimson bowtie, Laura’s favorite hue, and sapphire cufflinks that glint like the oceans we love. Red to coral, sapphire to turquoise—our colors, our story.

Stepping into the street, tux in hand, I can’t resist sending Laura a text.

Me: Just picked up my outfit. No sneak peeks—you’ll have to wait.

Her reply is instant.

Laura: I like the sound of that. But don’t worry, mine’s under wraps too.

I can’t help but smile, imagining her in whatever dress she chooses—though, in truth, she’s always breathtaking.

Me: You’ll be radiant. I can’t wait to see youwalk down that aisle.

Laura: You’re going to make me cry before the day even arrives. I love you.

Me: Love you more, Mrs. Zaitseva.

I linger with my phone, her words echoing in my heart. In that moment, I see not only the wedding but every day after—the laughter, the adventures, the quiet moments where love speaks in silence. And I know this isn’t just planning a wedding—it’s building a life, together.

Luckily, a senator from Alabama comes through swiftly, securing visa interviews for my parents in mid-May—a perfect stroke of timing that lifts a weight off my chest. Relief and excitement intertwine; everything is falling into place. I can already picture them there, sharing this long-awaited moment with us.

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