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The wedding was a hastily arranged, no nonsense affair, but hardly a spontaneous one, and neither delinquent nor premature. Bride and groom had been in love for decades, and it had taken simply that long for life to align with desires, catch up with their hearts, meet them exactly where they'd always longed to be.
Two small tables whose ivory coverings pooled upon the grass, an assortment of chairs, and family only, were assembled together in Sydney's White Cloud garden at sunset to witness the ceremony, officiated by Gianna, an ordained minister of the Universal Life Church.
It was full dark when Nicholas escorted the bride down a flagstone footpath—illuminated by accent lighting, candles, and hanging lanterns—and delivered her to the waiting groom.
Vows were spoken and rings placed on fingers, and the kiss celebrated with quiet applause. On cue, a French ballad trickled from concealed speakers.
Jarod knew immediately that it was a custom Parker had established years earlier to preserve his ignorance supposing he materialized unannounced.
Jarod didn't need confirmation that Parker would have simply transformed into hunter mode had she failed to escape unnoticed, perhaps produced a file bearing the Centre's letterhead for Sydney to sign, anything to sustain the ruse.
Jarod poured himself a glass of water, and followed Parker into the darkness.
"Can I join you?" Jarod asked.
"Of course," Parker answered, adding softly, "And I know what you're thinking."
"Oh," Jarod hummed. "What am I thinking?"
"That I began doing this because you'd developed quite the nasty habit of springing surprise visits on Sydney, and you aren't wrong," Parker answered bluntly, closing the remaining distance between them.
"Let me guess," Jarod said. "You were here on one such visit, weren't you?"
"Mm, you play with fire enough times," Parker confirmed nonchalantly, setting the empty glass atop one of Michele's marble sculptures.
"Fire," Jarod repeated with a deep frown. "Did you really believe that's what you were doing?"
"It's what it felt like," Parker answered with an affirming nod, extending her left hand, and easily finding Jarod's fingers in the dark.
"And now?" Jarod asked, pressing his palm against Parker's. "How does this feel? Still dangerous?"
With a hum of contentment, Parker instinctively linked her fingers through Jarod's, and shook her head. "Not--- entirely," she said, revealing unease.
"If," Jarod repeated with a grin of elation, and observed Parker's curt nod. "Yes," he answered with an unrestrained laugh that dislodged his tears.
This chapter, sort of like Michele and Sydney's wedding, was a hastily arranged (filled-to-bursting with nonsense) affair.