Chapter Two: Desmond
Desmond had been to a lot of weddings in his years. He didn’t mind going; any union brought together in love was worth commemorating. Plus, he loved to party, and the fact that this wedding was for his best friend made it mean all that much more to him.
Desmond watched Frank adjust his bow tie and grinned as he fiddled with it. They were seated in a back room closest to the altar and on the farthest side of the church from the bride and maid of honor. It didn’t seem necessary to Desmond since Frank didn’t look like he was itching to be anywhere but here.
He couldn’t be sure if the women were experiencing the same sense of calm, but he could imagine this entire day going differently if even the slightest thing went wrong. Of course, it could be he just watched too many chick flicks and was letting his imagination get the best of him.
“Nervous?” Desmond asked, feeling useless. He was the best man, after all. He felt as though he should be helping somehow, but one thing he wasn’t going to do was help a grown man get dressed. Frank had been putting on his own clothes for enough years to have become an expert by now. This wasn’t Frank’s first tux, and it probably wouldn’t be his last either, and Desmond’s hands were most definitely not needed.
“Nope,” he said confidently, and after double checking to make sure he looked all right, he sat down on the couch next to Desmond.
“No?” Desmond said, shocked. “Really?”
It was hard to reconcile the image of Frank, workaholic, who was known to choose work over a woman, in love. How did that happen? Desmond couldn’t help feeling skeptical. His friend hadn’t changed much in the two hundred years they’d known each other. Now, he seemed like another man, less restless and focused on some goal only he could see. Sitting with his leg cross over his knee, he looked like a model and the image of casual relaxation.
“No, Des,” he said, pulling his cufflinks from his pockets and holding them out to Desmond. Desmond took them, finally feeling like he was helping, as he worked the small metal bars through the holes. Frank continued, “I have something special with Violet. She makes me feel complete. Why would I be nervous around the woman who calms my dragon? I feel better when I’m with her. I feel happier. I feel…like I’ve always wanted to feel when I met a woman. I’m not nervous at all. I know Violet is who I want to spend the rest of my existence with, and what’s even better, I know Violet feels the same way, too.” Frank smiled, and Desmond could see he didn’t have a single doubt in his mind. It must be nice to feel that confident.
“I guess we can skip the part where I ask you about cold feet then,” Desmond said, attaching the second cufflink before sitting back.
Frank laughed and stood to see his reflection in the mirror once again. “Yeah, save that. Between the fire in my veins and the way Violet makes my heart race, I don’t think I could have cold feet even if I wanted to.”
“I wasn’t expecting cold feet or anything. Just a little…I don’t know…nervousness. This is a big decision you’re making. It’s not like if it doesn’t work out you can divorce her.”
Frank chuckled. “No. I don’t think my mother would look too kindly on that.”
“So what? You have to be feeling something,” Desmond said on the verge of frustration. For once, he couldn’t read his friend.
“Okay,” Frank said, turning to face his friend. He was bright eyed, clean shaven, and overall the best dressed he’d ever been. “I’ll tell you how I feel. I feel excited. I feel like time is going slow just because I want it to speed up and I cannot wait to see Violet walking down that aisle. I’m not worried. What would I have to be worried about? Claire double checked everything. You know how she is,” Frank said with a knowing look. “And Violet wouldn’t leave me at the altar. The wedding and reception are happening indoors, so I couldn’t care less about the weather. I am the happiest I’ve ever been in my life, and the only thing that could make me happier is proclaiming Violet as my wife in front of all my friends and family,” he said.
Desmond searched for a response as a soft knock sounded just before the minister walked in. He was the soft-spoken sort, with gentle eyes.
“Reverend,” Frank said, bending down to hug the little man. He was short, even for a fire-blooded human.
“It’s been a long time, Radcliffe,” Reverend Grant said, calling Frank by his middle name as he always had.
Frank knew him well as a child. He had consecrated all the dragon unions in Farthingtowne, and Frank thought it only right that his life be unified under him as well.
“Yes, sir, it has been. Can you believe it?” Frank said, grinning.
“I honestly can’t, but I have to say it’s about time. You’re not a spry dragon anymore.”
Frank laughed boisterously. “I guess you’re right.”
“Reverend Grant,” Desmond said, reaching forward to shake his hand. He had met him only once before, at the wedding rehearsal.
“Please. I asked you to call me John.”
“Yes, sir, Reverend John,” Desmond said, still uneasy about calling someone of that title by their first name.
The Reverend frowned good-naturedly but let it slide.
“Well, I didn’t mean to interrupt, but it’s my job, so excuse the intrusion, gentlemen,” he said with a serene smile. “It’s time we got to our places. We wouldn’t want the bride to beat you to the altar, now would we?”
Frank laughed. “He’s right. We can’t have that,” Frank said, turning from his reflection and smoothing down his tux for the last time. “You have the rings?” For the first time, a hint of nerves sounded in Frank’s voice.
To reassure him, Desmond pulled the box holding the two rings from his pocket. Violet had designed and made them, and Desmond could tell. They were unique like Violet and Frank. What were the odds? What would it take for Desmond to have something similar? He wondered what it would be like to have that kind of love for himself. He couldn’t imagine.
“Des?” Frank said softly, his voice barely registering.
“Yeah, man,” he said, shaking his head and breaking from his trance. He tucked the box back away and patted his pants pocket. “I got them. Safe and sound right here.”
The creases in Frank’s face eased, and he smiled. “Good. Then let’s get this thing started. I have a beautiful woman waiting on me.”
Weddings were – at their core – the same. Two people joining together. The bride walked down the aisle to some kind of music, rings or some other material symbol of love were exchanged, and there were people in attendance to witness it. There really wasn’t anything different about Frank’s wedding. There was nothing abnormal, and yet, Desmond spent the entire wedding lost in his feelings.
When Claire met him at the church doors, her hair was wrapped up into some intricate up-do. Desmond loved Claire’s hair. It normally hit just below her shoulder blades, and Desmond’s hands itched to take out the pins holding it up. He held Claire’s arm tightly as they walked side by side down the aisle to the altar.
“What happened to your tattoos?” Desmond whispered between his teeth.
“What?” Claire said, about to look at Desmond, but he squeezed her arm.
“Don’t look,” he hissed.
As if remembering they were in a wedding and not sparring like usual, she smiled widely.
“Your tats,” Desmond said, touching her wrist.
Desmond didn’t know much about Claire past her outward appearance since she wouldn’t let him past her defenses, but the little he did know, he couldn’t forget. Claire had an infinity symbol on her wrist and a tattoo of a dragon wrapped around her ankle. He could see that was also gone because her dress was intentionally short compared to Violet’s long, draping dress, and he could see Claire’s shoes.
The shoes she was wearing should be illegal, but she walked in them with some unnatural grace.
“Makeup,” Claire whispered behind her fake smile.
Thank god the aisle was so long.
“Makeup. Why did you cover them up?” he said, almost forgetting his own reprimand as he turned his head to look at her. “You didn’t need to do that,” he said instead of saying how nice he thought the tats were.
“Because!” she hissed, as he turned his head to face forward once again until he was only able to see her out of the corner of his eye. “I am a girl. Some things don’t look good for a wedding,” she said, squeezing his arm where she held it.
“I think you would look good in anything,” he admitted, and Claire forgot they were walking in front of everybody as she turned to him with wide eyes. He would have wondered why she was so surprised, but then again this was the first time he had said what he was thinking aloud. She didn’t need to know how many other times he had thought the very same thing.
“Keep walking,” Desmond said gently, moving them forward. Good thing Frank and Violet only went for one bridesmaid and groomsman because that little stunt they just pulled would have held up the line.
“Why don’t you worry about walking me down this aisle instead of talking,” Claire said.
“I would never let you fall,” he said as they neared the end of the walkway.
“So you say,” she said, stopping at the designated point and dropping his arm. “But now you’re letting me go.”
Desmond sighed but didn’t take her hand again. They hadn’t rehearsed that. Instead, he smiled and turned to take his place beside Frank at the altar as his best man. Then he watched as Violet came down the aisle on her father’s arm. Well, more than anything else, he watched Frank watch Violet. Desmond couldn’t remember the last time he saw Frank cry, but tears streamed freely down his face as his bride walked toward him. It was then that Desmond realized just how much Frank loved Violet and just how much love he had never had.
Desmond stood beside Frank and stared past Violet to Claire. She was beautiful, and from this direction, she was the only thing he could see. As the couple said their vows, Desmond watched Claire from across the aisle, wondering if he would ever say such words to a woman. To make a vow was not something to take lightly. It was binding.
His throat constricted as Frank repeated the age-old dragon vow that could not be broken.
“I take you to be my partner for life, I promise above all else to live in truth with you, and to communicate fully and fearlessly. I give you my hand and my heart as a sanctuary of warmth and peace, and pledge my love, devotion, faith, and honor, as I join my life to yours. Forever.”
What would it be like to be someone’s sanctuary of warmth and peace? He didn’t know why, but for some reason, he found his eyes drifting back to Claire to find her wiping the corner of her eyes. She was beautiful even while crying, and he looked away, concentrating on the stained glass behind her so that she wouldn’t think he was staring.
Something was happening to him. Whether it was old age, a latent midlife crisis, or heartburn, he wasn’t sure. However, as he and Claire followed the newlyweds out the church, Desmond knew that he wanted something similar. He wanted all that Frank had and more. But could he have it?
Fortunately, a dragon wedding reception would have a complex array of interesting, refreshing drinks and an even greater selection of cheeses. Desmond was too good a friend to get intoxicated, but he knew that some younger dragons looked at weddings as the perfect place to sample a wide array of expensive cheeses and get themselves good and drunk on someone else’s dime.
He would be able to cool his thirst and distract his mind from thoughts of forever, and possibly have a civil conversation with the flame-haired beauty on his arm. He was sure that she wouldn’t be a good candidate for his forever love, but a dragon was allowed to look, after all.