Outtake: A Wedding #CaraandGian
We're back for another outtake - this time, I pulled from the outtake request form for this one. However, I just wanna note some stuff. I get quite frequent requests for stuff from The Russian Guns series, and while sometimes I stare at those and want to write something, the muse just doesn't cooperate. And also, I literally wrote like two novels' worth of outtakes and short stories for them, it's what started this whole outtake business in the first place. You can find them on my website at www.bethanykris.com.
Should the muse strike and want me to write more outtakes for them, then I will, but for now ... there isn't too much to tell. I will be going back to that world to tell Roman and Vera's stories, however, and probably something for Adrik and his daughter, Sofia, too.
Now, onto the outtake.
A Guzzi Outtake
Cara stared into the mirror, smoothing her hands down the tightened corset of her gown, the sparkling crystals glimmering with every shift of her body as she admired the dress. The last time she had tried the gown on, there were still a lot of missing details. She hadn't been able to put it all on--not the whole get up, until this day. Veil, shoes, and a handcrafted white-gold headpiece encrusted with diamonds that matched the choker at her throat, and the line of bracelets on her wrist, along with the dangling earrings hanging from her lobes.
A bit much, she'd thought when the designer first pitched her idea to Cara. After all, she'd told the woman, why on earth would a mother of three--more kids would come, but for now, she was settled with her three wild boys--wear something that looked suited to be put on a queen for the day of her wedding.
Because you are a queen.
And well... that settled that.
She loved this dress, though.
It, however, had been just one piece to a much larger day and production that had become her wedding to Gian. Not that Cara was really sure how that happened. Somehow, between talks of a small, intimate wedding with close family and friends turned into a four-hundred guest affair that would last two days.
And suddenly, she liked that, too.
As excessive as it was.
She wanted this day.
What goes into a Guzzi wedding?
The biggest church in Toronto. Silk drapes in every corner. Enough flowers to donate a vase to every room to the hospital down the street when the day was done. Stretch limos, and chauffeurs for the guests. Brunch and dinner served by specialty chefs. A dress made to spec by a top designer and paid a price that cost more than most homes. Diamonds in guest gifts, and three-hundred-dollar bottles of champagne on every single table.
What makes a Guzzi wedding different?
Guests from all over the world. Criminals sitting in the front pew, but just far enough away from who they might consider an enemy that no problems would get started during the service. Table seating arrangements that promised the same peaceful outcome. A secret entrance into the church to stop paps, media, and cops from taking pictures of guests. Enforcers taking phones and weapons at the doors, and snipers posted at the tops of buildings, just in fucking case.
What makes it worth it?
Cara turned, grabbing the heavy skirt of her gown to get it out of the way just in time to turn for her oldest boy to come running her way into the private dressing room. Celeste rolled her eyes, and laughed, saying, "I tried to keep them busy, but ..."
"I wants to see yous," Marcus said.
Still just a toddler.
And she loved him to death.
Right along with his twin brothers who at a little over a year old, were just starting to walk, and would scream if anyone tried to carry them anywhere. Which was why it took little Corrado and Chris, with their matching grins and dimples in each cheek, twice as long to cross the room to come to their mother.
Corrado had walked first.
Chris decided he had to follow along, even though he hadn't been very interested at all walking in the first place.
Cara swiped her thumb along Marcus's cheek, wiping away the crumbs from whatever snack he'd been eating before she pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. She didn't linger, lest the liquid lipstick the makeup artist put on transferred, and stained his little cheek. His dark eyes watched her with a widened awe.
"Do I look pretty?" she asked.
He nodded. "Like a queen, Mama."
Cara smiled. "Thank you."
The babbling twins finally arrived to their mother, and she took a moment to greet each of them, too. There was something painfully bittersweet about seeing all three of her boys in their little tuxes. A few years ago, she thought this day would never come.
And here they were.
She didn't have flower girls.
Didn't have bridesmaids.
The wedding was a production, sure.
But only those that mattered took part in the ceremony.
His best man.
And her brother, who would act as her witness.
That was all Cara needed.
So what made this day worth it?
"Love you, Ma," Marcus said.
These people she loved.
"Love you, baby."
"You still want to do it this way?" Tommas asked at her side.
It was just them waiting behind the large oak doors leading into the church now. The song changed, and she swore the floor vibrated with the sounds of four-hundred pairs of feet standing to wait for the bride.
Cara grinned up at her brother. "Little late to change it now, isn't it?"
Her laughter rung out in the quite space. "This is how I want to do it, Tommy."
He nodded. "That's all that matters, then."
Her brother always said that.
He never lied, either.
The heavy doors were pushed open by the men waiting behind it for their cue. There were a lot of things she could have took a moment to appreciate. The decorations. Her sons being allowed to freely play at the front of the altar. All of it.
Any of it.
But what she enjoyed the most was the sight of the man waiting for her at the end. In his three-piece tailored to fit tux, looking like her whole life, and a future they had already started living together before rings and vows and a piece of official paper said it was so ...
There he waited.
Smiling at her.
Cara smiled back.
And there Cara stood, hand tucked into her brother's arm, and facing a whole church of people who perhaps some, didn't think she was worthy to be where she was in that moment.
Not the wife of a boss.
Not wearing this dress.
Not marrying in a church of this prominence.
She thought, probably, that was one of the reasons why Gian had done this the way he did. When they talked about something smaller, he wanted to go bigger. When simple options were placed in front of them, he asked for more.
And Cara agreed.
She'd told him once, hadn't she?
When forever was finally staring them in the face, and all the impossibilities about them finally became possible and true, she'd told him.
You're the boss. You can do whatever you want.
And so he had.
What he wanted was her.
"Our turn," Tommas said.
Cara nodded. "Our turn."
Her brother walked her the twenty feet to the end of the aisle.
She walked the forty feet it took to get halfway down the church's aisle.
And Gian met her in the middle to walk her the rest of the way.
A statement, if she ever made one.
Although, not everything needed to be said, to be.
"Love you forever, mia cara bella," Gian told her when they reached the end of the aisle.
Yeah, she knew.
So much so, that he had to tell the whole world, too.
And wasn't that beautiful?