Dr. Hottie

Epilogue - Jack

Jack

J

ack cleared his throat and re-straightened his bow tie.

He couldn’t remember the last time he was nervous. But here, in the Archbasilica of St. John Lateran as he waited for Addy to walk down the aisle, he felt like his heart was about to leap out of his chest. The fairytale cathedral was decadently decorated in bouquets and wreaths from the local florist.

Jack could still remember how much he’d struggled to get Addison to indulge in the wedding plans. He watched the guests continue to file in as he hovered near the front of the church.

At first, Addy was adamant that she just wanted a small affair. Maybe a backyard wedding at her parents’ old house or the little cottage-style church in town.

“Since when are you so religious?” he’d joked.

Addy had slapped at him.

“All little girls dream of getting married in a church in a white dress. I don’t hear you complaining that I’m not a virgin, either.”

“You got me there.”

As he’d watched her start to put together a tiny, quaint wedding at the local church, he’d genuinely thought it was what she’d wanted. Until he caught her watching the wedding scene in

Made of Honor

with the elegant castle.

“What are you watching?” he’d asked, even though he knew.

Addy had jumped at the sight of him.

“You scared me! Nothing, just some movie.”

“Addy, I’ve heard the same wedding scene playing from the kitchen for the past twenty minutes.”

“Okay, fine,” she sighed. “Just indulging in some fantasy.”

“Why does it have to be a fantasy?”

After a month of encouragement, he finally convinced her to at least consider an extravagant wedding. Of course, the final choice was no surprise.

Italy was the first country they’d visited together, their first trip as a genuinely engaged couple, and the first long plane ride Addy had ever taken.

“Jack, hey! This is amazing.”

Philip approached with Rosalie at his side. The two of them had their fingers languidly intertwined. Jack smiled at the new couple. He and Addy had gossiped about it during their international gelato trip, the way Philip teased Rosalie and how around him she finally let her guard down.

The two of them had never made a formal announcement, but their coupledom had been naturally accepted without the need for words.

“This is what happens when you force a limitless budget on the Queen of Planners,” he said.

“Did Addy tell you I went with her for her final fitting? You’ll be amazed. I’m sure you know that anyway, but seriously, Jack,” Rosalie said. “She didn’t do too shabby with your tux, either.”

“Actually, this was my doing.”

“Really? I’m impressed,” Rosalie said. “You really have grown up. I remember when we went to that posh restaurant back in the Congo, and you demanded to wear board shorts with a jacket.”

“Yeah. Maybe I was kind of a jackass back then.”

“Maybe so. I’m glad you’ve outgrown it,” Rosalie said with a smile.

“Is nobody going to comment on my suit?” Philip asked.

“Phil, your suit is from Men’s Wearhouse. It’s totally fine, but we’re in a castle in Italy for what has to be a multi-million-dollar wedding. Nobody’s looking at you.” Rosalie elbowed him in the ribs to let him know she was joking.

The Italian Symphony, seated overhead in the balcony, began the first strings of “Rondeau from Sinfonies de Fanfares.” Rosalie looked up.

“Addy didn’t tell me about that.”

“That’s a surprise from me,” Jack said. “Think I did good?”

“She’s going to love it.”

Addy had asked the event planner to section off the sprawling cathedral to keep the ceremony small and intimate. No matter how much Jack had pushed, she’d stuck to her guns about the size of the guest list—and the lack of a wedding party.

“It’s not about the money,” she’d told him. “Why would I want to invite people neither of us have seen or talked to in years?”

The planner had done an impeccable job. Gauzy white curtains were intertwined with yellow lights and framed by floor-to-ceiling velvet curtains. With just fifty guests, nobody could tell that it wasn’t exactly how the church was meant to look.

Instead, with yards of creamy silk fabric stretched across the pews and punctuated with bouquets, it simply looked like it happened to be the perfect size venue for their wedding.

Second wedding,

Jack thought with a smile.

“So, what other surprises do you have in store?” Rosalie asked.

“Excuse me?”

“Come on, Jack, I know you that well. What tricks have you got up your sleeve?”

“You’ll just have to wait and see,” he said.

Rosalie rolled her eyes and pulled at Philip’s arm. They wandered toward the walking cocktail waiters who balanced crystal flutes filled with Armand de Brignac Brut Rosé champagne on silver platters.

From the curtains, he saw Kenzie jet toward Rosalie and take her hand. Kenzie was in the closest thing to a bridesmaid’s dress Addy had compromised on—at Kenzie’s insistence of course.

“I only have one sister! It might be my only chance to be a maid of honor,” Kenzie had pouted when Addy had dropped the bombshell about no wedding party.

“Maybe if you stopped hooking up with your friends’ boyfriends after they broke up, that wouldn’t be the case!” Addy had laughed.

“It’s not like I hook up with them when they’re together!” Kenzie had moaned. “Some of them even give permission and then they act all pouty. Hypocrites.”

“C’mon, Kenzie, even I know the girl code.”

He watched as Kenzie grabbed a glass for herself as she ushered Rosalie into the back where Addy was being pampered, groomed, and put together by a team of Italian stylists. Already, he knew what it was all about. Rosalie was the only one of them who spoke Italian.

Kenzie nearly tripped and fell in her couture Alexander McQueen dress that dripped with Swarovski crystals. He’d given Kenzie permission to not only choose her own dress, but with his credit card.

“Champagne for the groom?” he halted at the accent, but turned politely to the waitress.

“No thank, I’m—Mum. What are you doing here?”

“I assume my invitation got lost in the mail, but of course I wouldn’t miss my son’s wedding.” His mother stood before him in a prim and perfectly tailored lavender skirt suit. She held out one of the two glasses of champagne. Jack accepted, unsure of her angle.

“Cheers,” he said, and raised his glass.

“Jacob,” she said after they touched glasses. “You know it’s bad luck not to make eye contact after a cheers.”

He searched his mother’s eyes for some ulterior motive as he sipped the champagne that tasted how he imagined liquid gold should. But he found nothing.

“I just want you to know, you have my blessing. Not that you need it, and not that you want it. But I wanted you to know.”

“Thank—thank you. Mum,” he said. “I’m sorry I didn’t invite you.”

“Like I said, I’m sure it just got lost in the mail.”

“Did you come alone?” he asked.

“Jacob, of course. And don’t give me that look of sympathy. Ever since your father … well, I’m quite used to making it on my own. Besides,” his mother said as she scanned the crowd. “I’m sure I can find some accommodating gentleman to show me around Rome once the festivities are over.”

He let out a laugh. “And I thought I got my sense of adventure from Dad.”

“Don’t be silly, Jacob,” she said. “Your father, I loved him with everything in me, but he was such a

planner.

Sometimes it drove me mad, but I was better for it. When we met—did I ever tell you this story?”

“No,” he said with a shake of his head.

“When we met, your father had just finished his residency and was on a Peace Corps assignment in Cambodia.”

“Wait, what? You met in Cambodia?”

“Indeed,” she said as she took a long pull of her champagne.

“What … what were you doing in Cambodia?”

“Surfing, mostly,” she said with a shrug. “I was on the mainland from Bamboo Island on a palm wine run—”

“Wait, you need to back up. What are you talking about?”

His mother gave him a smile.

“I lived a whole life before you were even born, Jacob,” she said. “I wasn’t always the stuffy old woman you know me as now. When your father met me, we were at the same tuk-tuk looking for local liquor. He heard my Melbourne accent and told me, ‘Love your dreadlocks, love.’ And that was it.”

She shrugged nonchalantly.

“Mum, you—”

She wrinkled her nose.

“This isn’t classical,” she said as she gazed up at the symphony orchestra. “What is this?”

“Bruno Mars.”

“Where’s that?”

He laughed. “Who, Mum. Here, let me take you to your seat. It means the bride’s coming.”

Jack seated his mother in the first row and took his position at the end of the aisle. The curtains spread at the far end and his heart soared in his chest.

Addy emerged with her long hair flowing behind her, draped in an exquisite wedding gown with handstitched French lace, long sleeves, and a boat neckline highlighted with gold beads.

The whole room collectively seemed to hold their breath.