EDUARDO
The moment I'm told to take my place, I stand ready at the altar. Flanking me are Malia's brothers, Amanda, and two of my paternal cousins. Amanda skipped the rehearsal, so this is her first time seeing Malia's brothers—one of whom is her partner for the procession. I wanted Amanda at the altar with me; even if she's a stubborn brat, she's my niece and one of the people I love most in this world.
— The bride has arrived. Are you really going through with this? — my friend Marcos asks.
— I am — I say, firm and certain.
— You have a thousand other options, Eduardo. You know what I think. I still don't get why you chose this path — he says. He's been by my side through everything, but he still doesn't understand the strategy.
— It's faster. If everything goes right, life continues as if nothing changed—or perhaps it gets even better.
— And if it doesn't go right? — He tries one last time, a good friend attempting to save me from what he considers a mistake.
— I have three years. If it doesn't work... — I stop myself. — I don't want to think like that. It will work.
The Wedding March begins to play. Marcos claps a hand on my shoulder, wishing me luck, and returns to his seat. After a few bars of the music, the massive cathedral doors swing open. There she is. Malia, in a pale blue gown that matches the decor perfectly, carrying a bouquet of white and blue flowers.
She is breathtaking. Malia has an effortless beauty, something that somehow makes her stand out in any crowd. She walks toward me, offering small smiles to guests along the way. When she gets close enough, her eyes lock onto mine. I step forward to meet her. Her father—whom I hadn't even noticed until then—hands her to me, telling me to take care of his daughter. After making my promise, I tuck her hand into the crook of my arm and lead her to the altar.
— You look beautiful, Malia — I whisper. I see a flicker of something in her expression. — Did something happen?
— Don't worry about it now. I'll tell you later — she says with a wider, reassuring smile.
I nod, trusting her. As long as it isn't something that would make her back out, I can stay calm. The ceremony begins. The priest blesses and advises us. After a long hour, we sign the documents—civil and religious—with our witnesses.
Only then, with the ink dry, are we declared husband and wife.
— Mr. and Mrs. Lecler, you may kiss the bride — the priest announces.
I turn fully toward Malia. She looks at me expectantly. I step closer, sliding my hand around her waist and pulling her gently toward me. I cup her face with my other hand, searching her eyes for permission. As if she understands, she gives an imperceptible nod. I lean in, pressing a delicate kiss to her soft lips. I let the kiss linger for a few heartbeats before we pull apart to the sound of the guests' applause.
Malia is slightly flushed, and I find myself smiling. Good.
I take her hand, and we walk out of the church into the chaos. A limousine waits at the entrance. We're showered in rice and white flower petals, but the moment we step inside the car, a welcoming silence takes over.
— Well, that was interesting — Malia says, leaning back against the seat with a smile.
— Now is when things really start to happen — I reply, then remember her look from earlier. — What happened, Malia? You said you'd tell me.
— I wasn't sure if I should wait until after we were married to tell you, but I couldn't exactly bring it up at the altar — she says, looking slightly awkward. — Cecilia came to see me right before I walked down the aisle.
I take a deep breath.
— I figured as much. What did she say?
— She wanted me to call off the wedding. When she realized I wouldn't, she said... she said she was pregnant. That I was taking a father away from his child and that you belonged with her.
I'm surprised, though I shouldn't be. I knew Cecilia would resurface, but to claim she's pregnant...
— I'm glad you didn't back out. Cecilia only said that to rattle you. She isn't pregnant, and if she is, I am absolutely certain the child isn't mine.
— Are you sure? — she asks, her concern clearly for the supposed baby.
— Positive. I haven't seen Cecilia in nearly a year. — She nods, accepting my word. — Now, let's talk about something more important: the honeymoon.
Malia turns bright red.
— I have a lot of work at the firm, so I thought we could combine business with pleasure.
— I don't mind about a honeymoon, Eduardo. You're an important man; your work matters — she says, sounding resigned. It seems the only thing she truly expects from me is that I keep my word regarding her daughter.
— You are my wife now, Malia. If I skip our honeymoon for work, what will people think? It's my duty to keep you satisfied. I have a meeting with a lawyer scheduled, so I moved it to our honeymoon. We're leaving the country for ten days. While I work, you can enjoy the trip—at least during the day. I'll keep you company in the evenings.
— Where are we going? — she asks, curious.
— Santorini.
She furrows her brow.
— You don't know where that is? — I ask with a smile. She shakes her head. — You'll be surprised when we get there.
The limo pulls up to the reception hall. I step out and hold the door for her, offering my hand. We enter the hall arm-in-arm to another round of applause. For the next few hours, we are greeted and congratulated by every guest in the room.
— You look beautiful, little sis. The wedding is wonderful — Breno says, hugging her.
— We just want you to be happy — Bruno adds, kissing her forehead.
— Take care of her for us — Bryan says, giving me a firm embrace.
— I will. Don't worry — I promise.
Next, our parents wish us happiness and return to the party. But I start to scan the room, wondering where Amanda is.
— Malia, do you mind if I leave you for a moment? I need to find Amanda.
She smiles and gestures for me to go.
— Look who's coming. You don't need to worry... or maybe you do — she laughs, pointing toward her mother, my mother, and a group of older ladies approaching.
— I'll be back to save you soon — I say, kissing her forehead before slipping away.
I search the hall for Amanda but can't find her. Finally, I spot her long brown hair disappearing toward the exit, accompanied by a young man. Amanda, Amanda. I follow them out. Instead of heading for the exit, they turn down a corridor of private rooms. She glances around, misses me, and ducks into a room with the boy. I have to deal with this girl.
I walk to the door and swing it open. It's a supply closet. Amanda immediately pulls away from the boy she was clutching. She rolls her eyes when she sees it's me.
— What do you want? — she snaps, annoyed at the interruption.
I ignore her question, leaning against the doorframe and staring at the blonde, preppy-looking boy whose lips are suspiciously red. I doubt they just started kissing. He looks terrified and stays silent.
— Give me a moment with my niece, would you? — I ask politely.
— Yes, sir. See you later, Amanda — the boy says, scurrying off.
I step into the closet, close the door, and flick on the light. I find a bucket to sit on while Amanda glares at me.
— What do you think you're doing? — she asks.
— I should ask you the same thing. Weren't you dating that idiot Henrique?
— We fought, and I'm not going to sit around waiting for him to apologize — she says, crossing her arms.
I almost smile, but a warning bell goes off. Angelina used to talk about Amanda's father the same way. They are identical, and I wonder if she likes Henrique as much as Angelina loved that man. That could be dangerous.
— I wouldn't mind if you two broke up. That boy out there seems like a good kid — I say, a failed attempt to sway her.
— Yeah, he's a good kisser — she shrugs, looking away.
— Amanda, are you okay? — I ask. She's acting strange.
— I should ask you. You just got married and you're locked in a closet with me. What's your problem?
— Amanda — I say, a warning in my tone. She drops her eyes.
— Sorry — she mutters.
— Do you want to come with us? I can talk to Malia; she's kind, she won't mind.
Amanda rolls her eyes.
— No thanks. I don't want to be a third wheel. — She makes a face. — Can I go? I want to eat.
— Sure, Amanda. But know that if you change your mind, I'll make it happen.
She ignores me and walks out.
— Brat — I mutter, heading back to the party.
When I re-enter the hall, I see Malia laughing with our mothers and their friends. She looks happy. I see my father and father-in-law talking with her brothers. Instead of joining them, I walk straight to Malia. She beams when she sees me.
— Malia, how about we say our goodbyes? Let them enjoy the party; we have a flight to catch.
— Are we leaving already?
— Yes.
It takes another hour to actually get through the crowd and say our farewells. Finally, we make it to the limousine. As we settle into the silence of the car, Malia is smiling again.
— That was fun — she says with a tired sigh. — But I'm exhausted.
— You'll have time to sleep on the plane. It's almost a full day of travel.
She closes her eyes, inhaling the cool air from the AC.
— That's plenty of time. I'm going to take advantage of it, since I haven't slept much lately—if you don't mind. — She opens one eye to look at me.
— Sleep as much as you want. I think you'll want to be awake for the view when we arrive. — I find myself staring at her, analyzing her features. — As I said, I won't be able to spend all my time with you. I'm sorry.
She just gives a sweet, closed-eyed smile.
— Don't worry, I understand it's your work. I won't be a nagging wife. But we're going to be friends, aren't we?
She opens her eyes, and they are bright and wide.
— Of course we are — I reply, taking a breath.
Three years. I have time.