“Where’s your drink, Father?” I asked.

Dominick grinned. “Not while I’m on duty. As soon as you kiss the bride, all bets are off.”

All of us laughed. Then a strange quiet settled in. The last few months had been peaceful, no retaliation from any of the Bianchi soldiers. The Feds were off our backs and the political forefront was spinning as usual.

Would there always be a chance of some other syndicate or cartel attempting to destroy our regime? Yes, but we’d become stronger as a family, able to face anything. Whether we were blood relations or not, we were closer than I’d ever thought we’d be. At least I knew my wife and son, and any future children Christiana and I decided to bring into our lives would have family surrounding them.

Caring for them.

Loving them.

This was my world and I’d been given a second chance. And nothing and no one would ever take it away from me.

God willing.

Cayman started filling our glasses with an amber-colored liquid.

“What’s this?” I asked.

“Rum, my friend, a tradition in Jamaica for every wedding.” He winked, as usual his accent more pronounced.

“Ah,” I told him, grinning at the way Dominick shook his head.

“A toast. To the bride and groom. May you walk into the golden years of life while enjoying the fruits of your labor and the beauty of the world around you. May your children bring you joy and happiness, and your difficulties help to provide you with wisdom. And above all, may you enjoy the wealth of love instead of money.” As Cayman lifted his glass, I was shocked by how emotional the entire experience was.

We clinked glasses, the moment of camaraderie a wonderful memory.

“And to Joey and his family. I think he’s looking down on us.” I glanced toward the sky, giving my dead friend a nod.

Dominick grinned. “I know he is. So is your father. Come on, my friend. It’s time.”

We threw back our drinks, placing the glasses on one of the decorated tables then made our way to the trellis covered in flowers, rose petals lining the sandy aisle leading to a group of palm trees where my bride was being primped and prepared.

I’d never valued the concept of family and friends, at least not like my sister always had. She was a sweet soul, where I’d been more like my father. Or so I’d believed, fighting everything about Maxwell and his world: my sister and her love and the organization that had been changed before my eyes into an even more powerful organization.

Now I stood in the simplest of worlds needing and wanting for nothing, feeling more honored to be here than I could in any other location in the world. This was what heaven was made of. Family. Friends. Children. And the love of the woman I’d always considered mine.

As I thought about Cayman’s toast, I knew he was right.

The only truly happy man was one who had the wealth of love, not of gold pieces and trinkets.

In my mind, I had it all.

As the small crowd gathered around, my godfather held the arm of my bride to be and I couldn’t stop the tears from falling. With every step she took, the last vestiges of armor fell away. And as I took her hands into mine, I knew I was the most powerful man on earth.

Because of her love.

“I love you, my almost husband.”

“I love you, my soon to be wife.”

She rose onto her tiptoes, pressing her lips against my ear. “Don’t you forget it.”

And so, it began…

The End

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