Part Eight

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© Birdy Stewart, 2013

Chapter Twelve
-Areila-

            "You look so beautiful." Teresa pulled a brown curl away from my face and smiled at me in the mirror.

    "Absolutely gorgeous." Val agreed. I blushed and smiled softly.

    "Thank you. Both of you." Rafe's mother nodded before politely excusing herself. There was only minutes before I'd be walking down the aisle. Val turned to me and we spoke at the same time,

    "Ar---"

    "Val---"

    "You go first," She insisted.

    "Val. . .you're my best friend. I know you might not agree with this whole deal, to be honest, I don't think I do either, and I know you've tried to talk me out of it, and now. . .all I can think about is how I should've listened to you. I'm in love with someone who is incapeble of loving me back, and marrying him just to keep his image safe. I'm not even sure he'll be a good father to my children. I waited all this time and now I'm only minutes away from tying the knot with that man forever, is it too late to turn back?"

    "No, Ar," My best friend grabbed my hands and shook her head violently, "I know what I said, but I couldn't have been more wrong! Rafaello. . .I judged him before I knew him. I still don't know him, but what I do know is that he's a good man. Ar, don't give up, he loves---"

    "Are you ready, Areila?" We both turned to see Rafe's father poke his head inside the door of my small changing room. He was a quiet-spoken man, with rough features identical to his son, but he was nothing less than a kind, gentle giant. When I asked, he'd told me he would be honored to walk me down the aisle. I forced a smile and nodded,

    "Yes, I'm coming." I faced my best friend and maid of honor once more amd hugged her tightly. "Sorry I didn't listen to you sooner." I whispered. I pulled away and approached Rafe's father, who held the crook of his elbow out to me. I slid my small hand through and held my bouquet of red roses in the other.

          He led me to the doors service room of the church and the moment I heard soft music begin to play, we turned the corner and entered a room of people. I'd asked for a small wedding, only family and close friends.

    Well, he's Italian, what did you expect, Ar? I could practically hear Val's voice in my head.

    At least it's small.

    I walked slowly, led my Rafe's father, down the aisle, nearly fifty pairs of eyes on me as they all stood unmovingly. I kept my eyes forward, glued on the two stairs leading to where Val and Owen had just parted and taken their places by the minister.

    One step. . .two. . .three. . .

    I reached four, and paused as I was given away.

    "Thank you, Toni," I whispered before he pulled away, kissing my for forehead, he replied softly,

    "Call me Dad from now on." His gentle kiss reminded me of my childhood, when my own father would kiss me goodnight, and I reveled in the memory. He took his seat and I advanced, looking up for the first time. The sight that greeted me haulted my breath and almost my steps.

    Rafe stood there, nearly open mouthed, gazing at me like I was the most beautiful woman in the world. His eyes shone with lust and. . .love?

    "We've gathered you here today. . .to celebrate the holy matrimony of these two people." The surprisingly booming voice erupted from the elderly priest's throat, startling me. "The eternal bonding of this young woman," his frail hand touched mine before his other connected with Rafe's, "and this fine man."

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