Novel & Cerita Father Of The Bride Part Two

Then he uttered, "Father, can I talk to you for a moment?" Henry nodded and walked alongside the man who was wearing a dirty tuxedo. They remained silent until they reached the fire exit. The groom took a deep breath and reached out his arm to touch the priest's shoulder. He looked him in the eye while saying, "Thank you for being here, Father, but I think you're a bit overwhelming. You can visit her when she wakes up. I know you're a good person, but people might question your relationship with my bride." A faint smile appeared on the priest's melancholic face.

I’m sure they know what we are discussing. As I continue down the aisle, I don’t even see the other people around me. It is just Tyson and me. When we get to the front, Stanley kisses my cheek and sits in his spot of honor as the father of the bride. I know neither Stanly or Patty are my actual parents, but they have been there for me like no one else ever has in my life, so it just made sense to honor them for all that they have done for me and Maddie through the years.

We have no bridesmaids and no groomsmen, instead it is just us three. “Who gives this bride away today,” her voice is loud and clinical. She took officiating our wedding seriously, no hint of the wink earlier is behind her tone. “House Astor does,” I hear my father say from his chair in the first row. I don’t let my eyes leave Nathaniel, worried they will immediately sob if I see my father giving away his last daughter to a vampire he barely knows. “Then we thank you for your gift to the Accord.” Eira does let a small smile escape her as the crowd replies.

And sure enough, the moment we walk into the living room, his father is there, sitting like he’s been waiting, one leg crossed over the other, a half-empty glass of whiskey in his hand. He doesn’t even look at me. His eyes go straight to Alessandro. “Well,” he starts, voice low and cutting, “that was... unconventional.” Alessandro doesn’t respond. His father rises slowly from the chair, straightening his jacket like he’s preparing for battle. “What the hell was that today?” he snaps. “A blue dress? Media speculating about drama before the vows are even done? Your bride looks like she stepped off a fashion runway instead of walking down the aisle. Is this what I’ve raised you for?”

A knock broke through my spiraling thoughts. My heart leapt. For a second, I imagined Ethan standing there, breathless and apologetic, ready to explain everything. But it wasn’t him. Richard Westwood, his father, walked in instead. My chest sank. The father of the groom. The billionaire who built the Westwood empire. A man whose smiles always came with an agenda. “Emily,” he said, voice clipped. “We have a situation.” I blinked at him. “What kind of situation?” He hesitated. Richard Westwood never hesitated. That was my first warning.

“I’m your father. You’re coming home with me!” “Shawn!” I rushed forward and grabbed his arm. “You’re scaring her! Give her back to me—” “That’s enough!” he cut me off. His voice was filled with disgust. “Tiana, five years ago, you abandoned me over a wedding dress, and now, you’re bringing a child here to ruin my life again?” A wave of murmurs rose around us. “Oh my God, this woman has no shame…” "She brought a kid to pester her ex-boyfriend?”

She burst into tears and ran out, hands covering her face. Then I felt the heat of his breath by my ear. "Let's finish the wedding first. I'll explain everything later, okay?" With the nuisance out of the picture and me not quite in the mood to make a scene, the guests stayed quiet, and the ceremony moved along quickly. Not long after, I was in the bridal room, slapping the mattress hard with my palm. 'What the hell was that earlier? Was that supposed to be some kind of seductive act? Hmph. As if that would work on me.'

(Dante's POV) The wedding day was bright and sunny. The Blackwood family's private estate was a fairy-tale scene of white roses and crystal chandeliers. The guests, Chicago's elite, were all waiting for the wedding of the century. Dante stood at the altar in a custom tuxedo, handsome and imposing. Marco was beside him as his best man, occasionally glancing toward the entrance. "When is the bride arriving?" a guest whispered. "Should be any minute," Dante replied, though a flicker of unease crossed his face.

There was only a single, faded photograph. I picked it up. It was a picture of a younger Damien, probably in his late teens. He had his arm around a middle-aged man with a kind, weary smile. The man had Damien’s eyes. His father. They were standing in front of a small, run-down auto shop. *Sterling & Son.* On the back, in a looping, feminine handwriting, was an inscription. *For Robert, who believed we could build anything. All my love, Grace.* Robert. Grace.

She opened her mouth to speak but I didn't notice that and spoke over her. “Will you marry me Miss Odessa Vale?” She closed her mouth slowly and stared at the diamond ring in front of her. “Oh shit, I didn't kneel” I quickly got on one knee. The whole restaurant was staring, people were bringing their phones out to record. Silly me had forgotten how famous we were. She kept staring at the ring and at me. The silence was getting uncomfortable and I was ready to take whatever answer she gave. “Yes, yes I'll marry you Ricardo” she slid her fingers into the ring I was holding, with a beautiful wide smile.