Say Something -In Progress Slow Updates

A Father's Advice

Author's Note:  The opening of Book 3 in the del Marco series is approximately three years after the opening of Book 2 (Row and Riley have moved to Asheville and are beginning to have real success in their music career) and about even with the end of Book 1 (TrayKat with 3 year old twins).

Bridge Del Marco

Most stories end with the Happy Ever After, but that's where mine begins.

On my wedding day. In a castle in Scotland, in a fairy tale dress with a twelve-foot train, marrying a Prince.

Okay, he's the illegitimate son of a Baron, but he's definitely the current Prince Of Rap. My bad boy with blue hair, a filthy mouth, and a rap sheet. I've been in love with him since I was nineteen years old, and he's been absolutely terrified of commitment since the moment he met me.

Because deep down, he knows—he's always known--I'm the one.

That didn't keep him from breaking up with me twelve times in seven years. After all, he is a bad, bad boy.

Just like my daddy, who is currently hitched to the stone wall in this massive bedchamber, watching the women in my family gush over the yards of simple cream silk billowing around me, and my veil and my happiness.

I'm beaming, but my dad's wearing his rockstar face.

Three months ago, Dev stood before him, asked for his blessing to propose, and my father, grim-faced and regretful, told Dev he knew that it didn't matter, but he wished we would wait. "You're not ready, Son. I hope to fuck one day you will be because my daughter has her heart set on you, but you still don't know who you are, Dev."

"I took a bloody fucking bullet for that bastard," Dev had told me in a fury later that day. He had already proposed of course. As he should have.

I had accepted with joy. My father might be right, maybe Dev doesn't know where he fits in this world, but who really ever knows that? The one thing I'm sure about—Dev loves me. He's ready to commit to me and only me. Our life together begins today.

A knock at the door. Ariadne's distinctive accent. "It's time, ladies."

Row, Alley, Kat, and my mother all depart in a bustle of air kisses and formal wear for their "places."

My father remains hunched against the wall, his rock star posture in stark contrast to his Gieves & Hawkes formal morning suit. He's looking at his polished shoes.

"Daddy," I say, the one word full of hope and admonition.

He looks up, his eyes full like I haven't seen since the tiny bundles of Alder and Birch were first placed in his arms about a year back. "Bridget," His voice breaks. He clears his throat. "You look beautiful. Christ, you look just like your mom, the day I married her." His eyes rake down my dress, then his suit. "And I think that was the last time I wore this many buttons, too."

"You look very handsome," I assure him. He does, but he looks worried. "Please be happy for me."

When I say that, he finally pushes off the wall. "I'm happy for you, Bridget. I know you love him. I know he loves you. But I've lived a long time, and if you'll let your old dad give you some advice?"

"Please," I say, and mean it. My parents aren't technically married, but no one rocks commitment like they do.

He comes to me, takes my hands, smiles with tears in his eyes. "There's going to be pain, sometimes. And Dev is for all the world just like me. When he's in pain, he's going to run from you. But all the strength and grace of your mother runs through you, and I know you can call him home."

"Daddy, that's awfully ominous advice on my wedding day."

"But not bad advice. Just hard and real and beautiful. When you make your vows, remember that true love can never be broken. It just changes."

My dad is the wisest person I know, and for some reason, his words filled me with both comfort and dread. Bittersweet tears spilled down my cheeks. His eyes widened. "Fuck Poodle, don't cry, they'll have my head for spoiling the pictures!" He drags me over to the professional makeup mirror. "Fix it!" he commands. "Fix it, or it will be your wedding day and my funeral!"

I laugh at his honest fear. My mom probably will actually be furious at him for making me cry because he's been such a sour puss in the ramp-up to the wedding. I pull a tissue, dab my tears, then smooth the tracks with a sponge and a flick of powder.

Ari has returned, a bright smile on her face. "Are you ready for your Prince?" she smiles.

"I've been ready for about five years," I say, ignoring my dad's snort.

It's a long arduous trek on heels through this castle to the ballroom where the ceremony will take place, but finally, I'm there, and Dev is standing at the end of an extremely long aisle created by the border of thousands of candles and flowers. The last steps I must take to meet my destiny are lit with hope.

The blue has been removed from his hair, but he is still my handsome Prince. His dark eyes burn in the candlelight. He doesn't smile at me. His emotion is beyond expression. He just stands there and burns.

He burned and burned, and I didn't know then that my tears and his burning were the real omens, and my father's advice would so soon be tested.

I floated down the aisle to the man I thought I knew, and in that moment, I had never been happier.