Chapter 70: I do

Chapter 70: I do
Joella

It was a beautiful day. The sky was clear and blue, the kind of blue that looked like it had been painted just for me. The weather was perfect, not too hot, not too cold, with just the right breeze to kiss my skin and make my dress float gently around my legs.

I looked at myself in the mirror, a soft smile spreading across my lips. My eyes were bright, my makeup flawless, my dress... stunning. But it wasn’t just how I looked. I felt good. I felt calm. No jitters, no second thoughts, just a rare, unshakable peace.

As I turned from the mirror, the first person I saw was my mom, and of course, she was crying. Just like always. I couldn’t help but shake my head, a knowing smile tugging at my lips. She looked breathtaking in her floor-length champagne gold gown, the kind that shimmered with every move. The off-the-shoulder neckline draped gracefully across her chest, the fabric glittering with thousands of sequins stitched from bodice to hem. It hugged her curves and flared at the bottom like a soft mermaid wave. Her hair was styled in the cutest pixie cut, soft and elegant, framing her face in a way that made her look like the queen she was.

"Shut up," she said, already dabbing at her eyes with a tissue, causing the room to erupt with soft laughter.

"You look beautiful, baby," Nana said, her voice warm with pride, her smile the kind that made you feel held.

Morgan stepped forward and handed me my bouquet, her eyes glassy with emotion.

"Not you too," I teased.

She gave a breathy chuckle, waving her hand in front of her face.

"I'm good," she insisted with a quick sniffle.

"Yeah, right. She's been crying every time you look away," Ashley chimed in, smirking.

They both looked stunning, as did the rest of my bridesmaids, each of them glowing in their sage green gowns. The dresses were elegant, with off-the-shoulder necklines and ruched bodices that hugged their torsos before flowing into silky floor-length skirts. A tasteful thigh-high slit on each gown added a modern edge to the romantic design. The color matched the soft, ethereal decor I’d asked the wedding planner to create, tying everything together like it was pulled from a dream.

I looked down at my bouquet, my fingers gently grazing the open-heart locket that had been carefully woven through the blooms. Inside was a picture of my dad. The way it sat nestled among the flowers made it feel like he was part of them, like he’d always been part of this day. In that moment, I could feel him. I knew he was here.

"He will be walking with you today. I know he would be so proud of the woman and mother you have become," Nana said gently, her smile both proud and aching.

Tears welled in my eyes. That bittersweet feeling rushed in like a tide, swelling in my chest.

"Thank you, Nana. I know he's with me today."

"Yeah, and probably complaining that the dip in this dress is too low," Uncle Jay added as he made his way through the room, his timing perfect as always. Laughter echoed around us again, lightening the air.

My cousin LaNae walked over with a tissue and carefully dabbed beneath my eyes.

"Y’all stop making her cry. Ruining my masterpiece," she scolded with a half-grin, before turning her attention back to my face and giving my makeup one last check. "At least we know the mascara and eyeliner hold up," she added with a wink.

Uncle Jay extended his elbow to me, a playful yet steady presence. "Alright, Peanut, you ready?"

I wrapped my arm around his, grounding myself with one final breath as the weight of the moment settled into something light and beautiful.

"I'm ready," I said, the words solid and certain.

"Okay, let’s go get married."

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Haden

Have you ever seen something so beautiful it took your breath away? Like it truly stole the air from your lungs and made the world go quiet? Stopped time itself? No? Well, I have. And it’s an image that will be engraved in my head until the day I die.

I couldn’t take my eyes off her. My Ella.

She looked regal as she glided down the aisle, arm in arm with her Uncle Jay. Every step she took was measured, graceful, powerful in its softness. The room had been buzzing just moments ago, full of whispers and movement, but the second she appeared, everything stilled. Even the damn air felt different.

And then her eyes met mine.

Time stopped. Just...stopped.

Her expression shifted, the nerves melting away as her lips curled into the brightest, most radiant smile I’d ever seen. That smile. God. I couldn’t help but return it, mine probably looking just as lovesick and stunned.

The dress looked even better than I’d imagined.

It was a masterpiece, a sculpted, sparkling work of art molded to every curve of her body like God himself had sewn it. The beadwork was insane, thousands of crystals and pearls stitched into intricate, swirling patterns that caught every glint of light as she moved. The plunging neckline was bold but not tasteless. It was powerful, confident, and exactly who she was.

The straps shimmered against her shoulders, and the fitted bodice hugged her like a second skin before the dress flared subtly into a sheer, cascading train that floated behind her like a dream. And that veil, long, dramatic, with strands of delicate beading that fell from her shoulders like falling stars, framed her like royalty.

It was elegant.

It was sexy.

It was unforgettable.

Just like I asked. Just like her.

As she reached the end of the aisle, her uncle shook my hand firmly, clapping my shoulder with that weighty, father-figure energy before stepping aside. I took Ella’s hand like I’d been waiting my whole life to hold it.

And maybe I had.

In the front row, I caught sight of Stella dabbing at her eyes with a tissue, trying not to cry too hard and mess up her makeup.

Ella looked so beautiful, I had to catch my thoughts before they wandered somewhere they shouldn't. My eyes swept over her again, and I swear, my brain started short-circuiting. I struggled to focus on the priest’s words, trying to keep my head straight. But Ella knew. Of course she did.

She lifted one perfectly arched eyebrow, her lips quirking into a playful smirk. Like she was reading my mind word for word.

I shook my head, grinning like a fool, and she let out a soft, silent laugh, her shoulders bouncing lightly. That look, we’d been passing it between us since we were teens. Only now, it carried the weight of forever.

If I’m being honest, I was ready for this ceremony to wrap up. Catholic weddings always took forever, and this one felt like it was dragging just to test me. Everything started to blur together, and all I could think about was Ella. My wife.

I had to keep my thoughts clean. Couldn’t have Nana threatening to strangle me for popping a boner in front of the priest. Not exactly the holy image she probably envisioned for her grandson.

Then finally.

"Ladies and gentlemen," the priest announced, "I now pronounce you Mr. and Mrs. Cooper. You may now kiss your bride."

I didn’t waste a second.

I pulled Ella straight into me, claiming her lips with a kiss that didn’t hold back a thing. Not affection. Not possession. Not the quiet, unrelenting hunger I had to keep restrained for weeks. It was a kiss that said mine, and the part of me that’s always been a little overbearing and a lot possessive? Yeah, it showed.

People whistled. Cheered. I could hear a few folks clapping wildly when a deep voice broke through the chaos.

"Alright now!"

I pulled back with a grin stretching across my face. Ella’s eyes were still half-lidded, dazed like she’d been spun in the clouds. She blinked up at me and smiled again, breathless and blushing, and I swear I fell in love all over again.

We turned toward her uncle, who was giving me a mock glare and shaking his head.

"Keep it PG, the babies are here," he said with a pointed nod, making everyone laugh.

The crowd erupted into applause as we made our way out of the ceremony, hands still clasped, hearts still racing. The sun greeted us like a blessing, warm and golden, as we headed out to take pictures. Cameras clicked, flowers swayed in the breeze, and all I could think was how I never wanted to forget this feeling.

Once the last photo was taken, we moved to the reception hall, and that’s when Ella stopped short, her eyes wide with awe.

"I can’t believe Emma was really able to make this happen," she whispered, slowly turning in place to take in every detail.

I had to admit, our wedding planner killed it. The vision was grand, whimsical even, with cascading flowers, glowing chandeliers, and a setup that looked like it belonged in a luxury bridal magazine. But the real showstopper?

The waterfall behind the altar. The one Ella had half-jokingly requested months ago.

"When I said I wanted a waterfall during the ceremony, I didn’t think she’d actually do it," she said, still in disbelief.
"She did," I said, leaning in to kiss her cheek. "And you deserve it all, baby."

When the DJ introduced us, the crowd roared. We walked out into the reception area to a wave of applause, cheers, and raised glasses.

The reception area was just as extravagant as the ceremony. An enchanting garden dream woven into reality. Lush floral arrangements bloomed in every direction, spilling over the tables and archways with elegance. Twinkling lights hung like stardust from cascading greenery above, creating a warm, ethereal glow. The atmosphere was bright and whimsical, with a fairytale charm that made everything, and everyone, feel lighter than air.

It was time for our first dance, and Forever by Damage spilled from the speakers in warm, melodic waves, I couldn’t help the smile that tugged at my lips. My hand found hers instinctively, and as we stepped into the center of the floor, everything else faded into a soft blur. The rhythm surrounded us, pulling us closer, and as the lyrics filled the air, Ella’s voice joined in, soft, sweet, and effortlessly in tune.

She sang along like the words were written for her, for us. Her smile, radiant and unguarded, lit up every shadow in my heart. I hadn’t expected it to hit me so hard, but in that moment, watching her sway in my arms, singing the melody of our love, my heart constricted in a way I’d never felt before. A tightening that didn’t hurt, but burned. A reminder of just how lucky I was.

This was my wife. My Ella. The woman I loved with every breath, every beat, every fractured piece of me.

I pulled her closer, sliding a hand around her waist and pressing my lips to hers. The kiss was slow and consuming, a quiet declaration in the middle of a crowded room. For that one breathless moment, the world around us ceased to exist. There were no guests, no music, no clinking glasses, just her.

Just us.

The night carried on without a single hitch. Everything flowed beautifully, as if choreographed by the hands of fate. Ella slipped away to change into her second dress before the cake cutting, and I was left to mingle reluctantly. I found myself standing with my dad and the guys, exchanging easy conversation and the occasional laugh. People floated in and out, offering congratulations, claps on the back, and unsolicited marriage advice.

But no matter who approached or what they said, my smile never left.

And most of that was because of her.

Countless guests approached to compliment how stunning she looked, each one confirming what I already knew. But hearing it from them only deepened the pride swelling in my chest. She wasn’t just beautiful. She was ethereal.

Then she returned.

The room shifted the second she walked back in, her bridesmaids trailing behind her in a soft, elegant cluster, but my eyes found her instantly. My breath hitched, mouth going dry as I took her in.

The dress was a masterpiece.

A sheer, nude-toned gown hugged every curve of her figure with breathtaking precision, adorned in cascading white embroidery that looked like it had been hand-stitched by angels. Intricate lace vines and floral patterns swept across her skin like living art, wrapping delicately along her arms, chest, and hips. The bodice dipped into a daring but elegant neckline, while the fitted skirt flared ever so slightly at the bottom, giving her the silhouette of a goddess carved from starlight.

It was bold. Sensual. Regal.

Yet somehow, it still felt like Ella, soft and strong, elegant and unapologetic.

“You sure we can’t leave now?” I leaned in and murmured low in her ear, my voice laced with a hunger I didn’t bother to hide.

Ella let out a soft laugh, the kind that made my chest tighten and my thoughts go hazy. She tapped my chest lightly, her eyes twinkling.

“No, we can’t. We haven’t even cut the cake yet.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Is it really that important?” My hand drifted lower, my fingers daring closer to the curve of her backside.

But she caught my wrist with a quick, knowing grip and stepped just out of reach.

“We paid good money for this dress,” she said with a smirk, “it’s getting its due time.”

I let out a breathless chuckle, watching the sway of her hips as she walked ahead. With a cheeky smile, I trailed after her like a man possessed.

“I’d rather take it off,” I mumbled under my breath, my voice full of reverent mischief as we made our way to the table where the cake awaited.

She didn’t turn around, but I saw the smile that curved her lips.

And I knew she heard me.

Ella smiled as we stood side by side, hands joined over the silver cake cutter. With the soft glow of chandeliers above and the low hum of music around us, we sliced into the delicate tiers of white and gold. The room erupted into applause as we each lifted a small bite to feed the other.

I leaned in first, brushing my fingers gently against her lips. She opened without hesitation, and the second her fingers came close to my mouth, I didn’t miss my opportunity. I let my lips close over her fingers slowly. Purposefully. Lingering far longer than was necessary.

Ella’s eyes widened just slightly, pupils dilating as her breath caught for the briefest second.

I chuckled under my breath, kissed the back of her hand with the softest reverence, and murmured against her skin, “Mission accomplished.”

She rolled her eyes at me, but the flush on her cheeks gave her away.
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Joella

The night was finally over.

It had been perfect, beyond anything I ever imagined. Every flower, every candle, every laugh, every dance. There was something so powerful about watching our families merge into one joyful, loud, unapologetically chaotic celebration. I’m pretty sure I even saw Enzo getting cozy with my cousin LaNae in the corner, which made me do a double take.

One thing was for certain, Italians could party just as hard as Black folks. The amount of dancing, glass clinking, loud talking, and pure laughter that filled the night made my heart swell. It wasn’t just a wedding, it was a union of cultures, of generations, of love that felt unstoppable.

Now, I sat curled beside Haden in the back of the limousine, the soft leather cradling my back as the city lights flickered outside the tinted windows. We were on our way to the airport, ready to board our flight for the honeymoon. A part of me was excited, but the bigger part of me was...nervous.

The twins were only eight months old. My entire world.

I had wanted to wait, to plan something for later, but Mom and Brad practically shoved us out the door with a week-long plan and promises that they had it handled. I trusted them. I did. But still...

I hadn’t stopped texting my mom since we left the venue.

“A week is a long time,” I muttered, still typing out a quick check-in message. “I know they’ll be okay but...they’ve never been away from me this long.”

“Baby,” Haden’s voice was calm and low as he reached over and gently pulled the phone from my hands. “Would you relax? The boys are in good hands.”

He tucked my phone into his pocket and leaned in, his lips brushing against my neck as his hand settled on my bare thigh.

I exhaled slowly, eyes fluttering closed at the warmth of his touch.

“I know but-” I started, already leaning into the familiar comfort of him.

My words were cut off when his mouth found the spot just beneath my ear, the one that always unraveled me. He kissed there, slowly, before his lips moved lower, his tongue tracing fire across my skin.

I barely registered his hand sliding higher until his fingers slipped past the edge of my cotton shorts. Soft and warm, they curled around the fabric of my panties, tugging them gently to the side.

“Haden-” I gasped, both a warning and a plea.

He silenced me with his mouth, capturing my lips in a kiss that was hot, deep, and demanding. His tongue swept into my mouth the same moment his fingers teased my clit, circling it with achingly slow pressure that made my toes curl.

“Shh,” he whispered against my lips. “Relax. Let me take care of my wife.”

In that moment, I forgot about the boys. I forgot about the flight. I forgot about everything but the man who knew every inch of my body and exactly how to remind me, gently, thoroughly, that I was his.