forever you

[three years and four months]

Her raven hair floated around her shoulders, golden reflects from the fairy lights hanging around the ballroom, as Marco spun Siobhan in a fluid move. The skirt of her white dress followed the movement, like the petals of a flower blooming at the first spring sunrays. Even from where he was seated, at the edge of the dancefloor, Noah could see the grin on her face. The same pure, unabashed joy floating in the air.

Laura had done an outstanding work organizing her wedding. The dancefloor had been installed outside, in the garden of a small countryside farm turned wedding venue, where the ceremony had been held. Wildflowers and fairy lights decorated every table, every pole, hanging from the patio where dining tables had been scattered. The soft glow of the candles set on every table gave an intimate atmosphere to the space, in contrast with the festive lights handing around the dancefloor. Noah was surprised the flames had survived the weather, but the sky had been clear all day, no wind rustling in this isolated patch of Californian countryside. After all, it was a blessing that winters were milder in the south of the country. Only his older sister would be adamant her wedding was held in the winter, because who decided weddings must be held in the summer? screw that. Typical Laura.

The bride was in full swing in the middle of the dancefloor, her long fluttering skirts swaying around her exposed legs. Flames seemed to dance on the red fabric of her gown each time the fabric caught the light. Like the fieriest of roses swirling in a sea of lights. It was already a miracle Laura had worn a white dress for the ceremony, yielding to their mother's incessant pleading. Which was as much tradition as she could fathom. Her second gown had to transpire wildness and passion, resembling more a tango dress than a wedding ball gown. That every attendee had saluted with tremendous whopping and whistling when she had made her entrance at the arm of her husband. His family couldn't care less for traditions, so long as she was happy. And tonight, in the arms of Antonio, happiness had never shone brighter on her face. Their three years old son, Mateo, came to his parents on his stable yet slightly wobbly legs, laughter lighting his small face as his dad scooped him up. The sight warmed the pulse in his chest, vibrations of the laughter and chatter surrounding him dancing in his blood, warming up his skin.

"She's a really good dancer."

Paola took a seat next to him. Following her gaze, his eyes settled on the white dot spinning in another one of his cousin's arms.

"She is," he agreed with a nod. Another surprise he hadn't foreseen. After all, Siobhan had agreed to this weekend to be his study partner, a favor to him so he could cram in some work during the festivities. And because his entire family had been nagging him to bring a date. And it provided for a mini break on the West Coast, he suspected.

He was glad she'd said yes. Though her demeanor had stayed composed as usual, he had noticed her jumping leg during the flight, how she'd wrought her hand when they had landed. But he'd knew his family would love her. And they'd shown it. Every member wanted a piece of this small Asian girl who spoke Spanish like a Mexican native – a fact that had propelled Siobhan into the goddess status. Do you also speak fluent Korean as well? Tell us if Noah is giving you trouble.

If his mother wasn't already enchanted at her venue, she was now glowing. Adoration almost seeping out of her features. At least that shook the attention off him, the Alvarez clan more interested in his friend. Attracted to her like moths to flame, like birds just discovering the existence of gold.

Even Siobhan had taken it all in stride, appeasing his worry that the constant attention would wear her down. She'd smiled and gladly regaled them of stories about her stay in Mexico, fed their curiosity about her origins. Always answering, though her answers held an unusual reserve. But, sometimes, only when Pao and Laura would be nagging him, she'd fuel the fire with an embarrassing story of him. Never humiliating. Just enough to tint his cheeks pink, his sisters and cousins roaring in laughter, while she shot him a teasing smile. And that reminded him it had taken time – a whole year, in fact – for her to open up to him.