Fight For Me by Claudia Burgoa

Chapter Thirty

Luna

Hazel guessed right.Willow and Hunter organized a surprise wedding. Their patio is decorated with twinkling lights, volcano color roses, and candles. It’s beautiful, simple and romantic. The atmosphere is peaceful.

Everyone is ready for Willow to make an appearance. When the string quartet starts playing “Vivaldi’s Spring,” she and her grandfather walk out to the patio and toward the gazebo at the end of the outdoor room. She wears a classy, strapless white gown.

Hunter waits for her with a big smile on his face and love in his eyes. He sports a tuxedo; his shirt is unbuttoned on the top. He’s not wearing a tie. Harrison and Scott are by his side as his best men. Hazel is her maid of honor, and I’m a bridesmaid because, according to them, I’m already part of the family. And although it sounds crazy that they’ve opened the doors to someone who they just met a couple of months ago, I love it. Looking at the small bouquet, I wonder if I’ll ever take this step. I never contemplated it, but with Harrison…

When Willow reaches Hunter, she hugs her grandfather and kisses Hunter on the cheek.

“This is my first time officiating a wedding, so be patient.” Fitz stares at the paper that he’s holding.

“Hunter, Willow. You two are the perfect couple, and I couldn’t be more thankful that you chose me to be the one performing the ceremony.” He looks to the left, then to the right and smiles.

He looks at the paper he holds. “You should’ve given me a little more notice, like an hour, or two. First I say that we’re gathered to witness the union of these two people.” He turns his attention to the guests. “I should ask if anyone objects but I will skip that.”

“We should’ve hired someone,” Hunter protests. “Why can’t you do this simple task? You don’t have to do much.”

“Exchange the vows.” He looks around, ignoring Hunter and smiling at the guests. “It’s my first time, be patient.”

“You’re doing great, Fitz.” Willow touches his arm.

She straightens her back and clears her throat. “Hunter, you’re my everything. My air, my sun, my love. You’re that happy beat I need when my heart is about to stop. You’re poetry to my soul. You’re the one person who discovered my flaws and loved me more because of them. Your love takes away my insecurities and leaves me with a blanket of warmth that keeps me safe when it’s hard for me to breathe on my own. I hope that I’m enough to fill your heart with love and strong enough to be your rock when you’re down. But most of all, I promise to love you for eternity.”

He leans in, kissing her teary eyes. “I love you.” He takes a breath and continues. “Willow, I never believed in love at first sight. But I feel that my soul has been in love with yours since the beginning of time. The day we met you felt familiar. As I got to know you, it felt as if I began to remember who you are. My soulmate, my companion, and the woman I hope to spend the next eternity with. I’ve loved you since always. I’ll love you for always. I just hope that you’ll share with me your darkest days and your brightest nights.”

Her words are beautiful, but his words and the emotion he adds pulls at my heartstrings. I’ve never seen two people more in love. That’s what I want, for someone to just love me as I am. My heart skips a beat when I find Harrison’s eyes, and he blows me a kiss.

“Stop.” Fitz breaks the silent conversation I was about to have with Harrison.

Fitz shows his paper. “Rings first. According to Wikipedia, the kiss isn’t happening just yet.”

The room bursts into laughter.

“First time, people,” he reminds us. “My first times are always messy and—”

“TMI,” Hazel whispers, patting dry her cheeks with the handkerchief that Scott handed her.

“We hired a minister and a clown,” Harrison says with a chuckle.

“You didn’t hire me.” Fitz glares at Harrison. “And who has the rings?”

The rest of the ceremony doesn’t take more than two minutes. When Hunter leans in for a kiss, everyone cheers and claps. At that moment, waiters holding trays with champagne flutes begin to waltz around the patio.

“Thank you, everyone, for joining us tonight.” Hunter raises his glass. “We wanted to do something simple, just with family and friends. My bride and I are leaving for our honeymoon, but please enjoy the small buffet and again, thank you for sharing this moment with us.”

Now I understand why they took the pictures before the ceremony. I go up to them, hugging Hunter then Willow and wishing them the best. I’ve yet to get to know them better, but I hope that I can stick around a little longer, with Harrison.

“Dude, what happened to the embarrassing toast from the groomsmen?” Harrison complains. “I’m ready to talk about the time—”

“That’s one of the million reasons why this wedding is so small and fast.” Fitz cuts Harrison off, patting his chest and taking the second flute. “No one wants to hear you giving poor little Hunter shit.”

“I love you, but you’re not funny, Fitz.” Hunter shakes his head. “Thank you for coming, Harrison. You can save the big toast for Scott’s wedding. Or Fitz’s.”

The four brothers talk over one another, and they seem to understand what’s happening, but I choose to walk away, toward the food. I’m starving.

“Here,” Willow says, handing me her bouquet.

“Umm.” I stare at it. “I’ll save it for later?”

“No, it’s yours.”

“What?”

“I’m not tossing it. I’m handing it.”

“Like tag, you’re it?” I push it back to her. “I’m not playing but thank you.”

What happened to tradition? Those old times when the bridesmaids would rush forward, struggling to find the best spot and become the chosen one. They pull each other’s hair, disarray their gowns all because they want to be the one to snatch the bouquet and find their prince charming.

“Harrison asked me to give it to you.” She winks at me, tilting her head toward the Everhart men.

I turn around, finding him, walking toward us. “Congratulations, Willow. I wish you nothing but happiness, sweetheart.”

“Thank you.” She kisses him on the cheek.

“You and I are leaving too.” He gives me a playful smile.

“We are?” I play coy, untying his tie.

He bends down and I can feel the warmth of his breath as he murmurs in my ear. “Yes, and I got us a reservation at the Four Seasons.”

I press my legs together, squeezing my eyes as I savor his words.

Finally.

“You’ve got to be shitting me.” He sighs. “What did I do to deserve this kind of fucking torture?”

I look over my shoulder to see what or who he’s staring at. Tiago is approaching us. He’s dressed in a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. Why is he here?

“Everhart, distance,” Tiago orders.

“What are you doing here?” I protest. Not that I’m glad to see him, but did he come all the way from Seattle to interrupt us?