Livvy (60 page)

On the hotel’s roof is a long swimming pool, lights strung up on posts around it casting colorful sparkles on the water’s reflection. To the right are rows of chairs separated by an aisle.
The aisle.
The one I get to walk down with a daughter on my arm before handing her off to Jon. He stands in front of our families and friends, hands clasped in front of him, grinning happily and talking to the officiant as people continue to take their seats.

An obvious void sets in where my heart is. Livvy’s been away from New York for four years, but she never felt far from me. Now with her clinging to my side, I’ve never felt such distance and wonder if this feeling will linger, or lessen as time goes on.

“It’s beautiful,” she says as she peeks from the side of the building from which we’ll make our entrance. I watch the lights dance in her brown eyes as she takes in the scene in front of her.

“Can you see him?”

“I don’t want him to see me yet,” she says, lifting her eyebrows as she smiles eagerly. “Is that silly?”

“No,” I assure her softly. “He looks happy.”

“Mr. Holland,” the photographer says after snapping a shot of me. I’ve never seen her happier, and could revel in her joy for hours. I finally turn my attention to the man. “Can you both look over here?”

“Give me a second,” I say to him, clearing my throat. “Just a minute, Tessa.” As I pull away from her, I take the handkerchief she’d removed from my jacket from her hand. Walking a few steps out of her view, I wipe my eyes. I couldn’t be prouder of Livvy–or of Jon. I couldn’t be happier that they’re finally getting married. I know she’s in good hands. I don’t know why it hurts so much; why I can’t contain my emotions. I’d always known this day would come.

“Here you go,” I tell her as I hand her back the small cloth. She tucks it beneath her bouquet. We both look at the photographer, posing for a few shots.

“Are you ready?” Livvy asks.

“I’m good. You?”

“I kind of can’t wait,” she admits, bouncing lightly on the balls of her feet.

“Well, then, let’s get you down that aisle.”

Livvy nods to a woman standing a few feet in front of us, who then signals to a string quartet seated to the left of the gathering. They start playing some music, and from the other side of the building walk Camille and Frederick. They’re followed by Katrina and Finn, Lexi and Max, Clara and Jackson, and Kora and Will.

“Doesn’t Trey look handsome?” Livvy asks me as the wedding planner corrals Bethy and Holland at the back of the aisle. Lexi’s husband, Kyle, hands their son a small pillow to carry down the aisle. My young niece is impatient and ready to drop petals down the aisle, grabbing her cousin’s hand and pulling him toward the rest of the wedding party.

I glance up to the front once more and see Jackson standing next to Jon’s oldest brother. “He’s my boy, Tessa, what would you expect?”

“Right, of course,” Livvy laughs. Silence takes over the ceremony. “This is it,” she whispers.

“I love you with all my heart, Livvy.”

“I love you, too, Dad.” We hug one another tightly, and as if on queue, the quartet starts playing the wedding march as soon as we break apart. We link our arms once more, and as the crowd stands, I walk my daughter from behind the building. An audible gasp is heard from the crowd when they see her. She is radiant. I glance over to her, watching her expression as she sees her groom. I don’t look at him. It’s their private moment. From the smile on her face and her rosy cheeks, I can tell that he’s pleased. Her eyes begin to water. I look away, knowing I need to remain composed, surveying the attendees. Emi’s sister is on the end of an aisle wearing a purple leather dress that looks to be at least two sizes too small. She stands out in the crowd, and not in a good way. Normally, I’d keep quiet, but with the strength at which she grips my arm, I hope Livvy appreciates the levity.

“My god,” I whisper in her ear, “what is your aunt Jen wearing?” Livvy elbows me in the side as she starts laughing. “Seriously? What poor cow had to sacrifice his life for
that
?”

“Daddy,” she giggles. “Be nice.” I look around some more as we walk slowly down the aisle.

“Oh, wait, no,” I say after seeing my brother, Matty, in a sequined tuxedo jacket. “You approved
that
?”

She laughs harder, looking down at the ground in front of her. “No!” she half-squeals. “I told him all eyes would be on him if he wore that. I protested it.”

“Are you kidding? It hurts my eyes! I think you’re safe... it’s, like, a visual
repellant
. He has to take that off,” I tease her. I see Emi in the front of the crowd. She’s swiping at tears, but smiles sweetly at me.

“Leave him alone, too, Daddy. He kept my secret. I guess he can do what he wants.”

“Yeah,” I agree. “He’s been a good uncle to you.”

“Disloyalty aside,” she says.

“Disloyalty aside,” I agree with a grin, looking down at my daughter as we reach the front of the rows of guests. Emi sits in the seat directly to my left. Livvy is still looking down, and I feel her grip tighten on my arm. I nudge her lightly. “We’re here,” I whisper.

She nods, finally looking up at Jon. Her cheeks flush again. I look at him as he watches her.

“You are captivating, Olivia,” he tells her ardently as he gazes into her eyes. “Just striking. And
glowing
.”

“I love you,” she tells him quietly. Her friend, Kora, takes the bouquet from her hand and steps back into her place in line.

The music stops playing, and the preacher steps forward to address the crowd. “Who gives this woman to be wedded to this man?”

I feel my wife’s familiar hand grabbing on to my free one, squeezing tightly. “Her mother–” My voice catches in my throat. I clear it, starting over again. “Her mother and I do,” I say louder. Livvy drops her arm slowly and turns toward me. I hug her tightly and kiss her on the cheek, once again feeling that empty feeling in my heart.
She’s officially beginning her life with the man she loves. There’s no logical reason that I should be sad.

I take my seat with the rest of the crowd. As I listen to the officiant define marriage and the roles each will play, I am inundated with memories of my little girl. Twice during the ceremony, Emi calms me with soft kisses. I’ve never needed her strength more than in these moments.

“Olivia and Jon have written their own vows, and invite you all to witness their exchange.” I take a deep breath, and watch my daughter as she speaks to her groom.

“I don’t remember a time when I didn’t love you. As a child raised in a home of love, I was taught love.”

My wife squeezes my hand.
We’ve done a good job.

“Always love. Everywhere,” Livvy continues. “When you came along, already my heart had so much love to share that I think it burst when I met you. When you sat next to me, we loved. Maybe not in spoken words, or conscious thoughts, but in our reciprocal acts of friendship, we loved.

“And today, we still love. Always. Everywhere. It gives me peace of mind to know that my love always has a place with you. In you. Our love has mixed, infused, and now flows through each of us. You are my home. You are my heart. You are my love.”

Emi sniffles, but I don’t have the handkerchief for her anymore. Steven’s come prepared, though, and hands her a tissue from the row behind us.

Jon clears his throat, and then begins, his eyes trained on Livvy’s with intensity. “I didn’t know what a soul was capable of until I met you. Mine is a magnet that leads me back to you, whether we’re thousands of miles apart... or merely a single breath away.”

Livvy gasps, and leans in to kiss him. I look at Emi, remembering when the excitement overtook her at our own wedding.

“See?” Jon says with a laugh, and what I think is a tear.
Silly, romantic kid. God love him.

He takes a deep breath. “It provides me assurance in times of doubt. It allows for forgiveness when we argue. It reminds me to be grateful when you smile and laugh. Always thankful. Everywhere. My soul begs me to do all the things to make you smile. To make you laugh. To make you happy. When you’re happy, I am fulfilled.

“It goes without saying that I have never been more fulfilled than I am today.”

“I’ve never been happier,” Livvy returns. “Never.” They both smile.

“Now the rings,” the man behind them says. “Jon?”

“Olivia Sophia Holland, my love is meant for yours. My life, I commit to you. All of our days and nights, we share. I devote myself to you–mind, body and spirit–until the end of time. My heart and soul rest in your caring hands as yours rest in mine. Always. Everywhere. With this ring, I promise you my respect, fidelity and love.” He places it on her finger carefully, but I see his hand shaking in the process. She kisses him on the cheek, relaxing him.

“Olivia?”

“Jonathan Augustus Scott, my love is meant for yours. My life, I commit to you. All of our days and nights, we share. I devote myself to you–mind, body and spirit–until the end of time. My heart and soul rest in your caring hands as yours rest in mine. Always. Everywhere. With this ring, I promise you my respect, fidelity and love.” Unlike his, her hand is steady. It could be from years of painting, or it could be that she has known since she was a child that Jon was her future.

I haven’t doubted the purity of their love since they were teens arguing in my home. I laugh to myself, and feel my throat tighten. Prideful tears well in the corners of my eyes.

After the brief service and about a half-hour of posing for pictures, we’re directed into a ballroom next to the outdoor pool. It has glass ceilings that show a few distant stars that are bright enough to be seen from our location in the city. It’s a clear night; the perfect night.

Our brothers and sisters finally have a few minutes to chat about the surprise wedding we’d just witnessed as Livvy and Jon meet with all of their guests. I have a few minutes to unwind with a stiff drink, too, and feel much more relaxed after having some casual time with my family.

As soon as the newlyweds have thanked everyone for coming, they take to the dance floor and, wrapped tightly in each others’ arms, they move slowly to a beautiful song I’ve never heard before.

“Wait, I have to do this next, don’t I?” I ask Emi, remembering our own wedding.

“What are you worried about?” she asks me. “You’re by far the best dancer here.”

“I’m out of practice.”

“So what? You’ll make her look good. This
is
her day, remember?” she challenges me playfully.

When the song ends, the couple walks over to me, and Jon releases Livvy’s hand into mine. “What are we dancing to, Tessa?”

“Ummm...” Livvy says, giving me a strange look. “Your hometown hero. A little Frank Sinatra.”

I smile immediately, happy to pay homage to my favorite artist. When Livvy was little, Emi and I used to dance with her in the kitchen, recreating our first date. It’s a memory I hadn’t thought of in many, many years. “Perfect,” I tell her, remembering the little girl who would twirl around my wife and me until I’d pick her up and carry her in sweeping motions around the room.

The music begins, and I walk her to the middle of the dance floor. “You’ll let me lead?”

“Are you going to show off?” she asks with an anticipatory glance.

“I’m going to make you look good,” I tell her, starting off the foxtrot I’d learned for my cousin’s wedding and danced many times since. She listens to my instruction and remembers the steps easily. When the song ends, we exit the floor and watch Jon and his mother dance to their song. Livvy has taught Jon some steps over the years, but it’s clear his mother has two left feet. He does a pretty good job of leading, though, and they’re obviously having fun, laughing with one another. Toward the end of their song, waiters disperse, handing out champagne to the guests. Emi and I join some of the other wedding party guests at a table in the front.

Jon’s brother, Will, has a hard time with his toast. It’s obvious that he doesn’t like speaking in front of large crowds, but he reads through his cards and finishes to polite applause from the guests. As Kora is giving her speech, I start to wonder what I’ll say to them. It was hard enough to come up with something to say to Livvy on the spot before the wedding. Normally, I can do this with no problem, but I’ve never been so emotionally invested before.

Livvy stands next, thanking everyone for coming and rattling off some inside jokes to her cousins and friends. As she lifts her glass, I notice her champagne is pink, while the rest of the guests drink a pale yellow sparkling wine.
She always has to be different.
I smile, still so proud, and so in awe of this perfect daughter we’ve raised. She thanks us again for setting an example for her to follow before taking a drink and sitting back down.

Jon kisses her before he takes his turn. He loosens his tie as he stands and picks up his glass. “I’m going to start my toast with this,” he announces as the guests chuckle quietly and wait for him to take a sip. He drinks the entire glass, which is immediately replaced with another by a waiter.