Six months later, on the third Sunday in June, Landon stood in Forest Park under a brass arch that had been intertwined with flowers. The day was extra special because it was the first time he would celebrate Father’s Day with all four of his children.
Octavia had planned the day to perfection. Benson and Bryan were ring bearers while his daughters shared the spotlight as the flower girls.
As he waited for his bride, Landon glanced around at the guests who had sacrificed their Father’s Day to be there for him: cousins—even Garrett and his wife—uncles, aunts, his grandparents, old friends and new.
His musings were dashed at the first chord of the “Wedding March” when Octavia appeared. When his jaw dropped, Garrett, a groomsman, nudged him. “Close it before something flies in.”
Rossi, his other groomsman, and his father, who was the best man, chuckled.
But Landon did as instructed. The only thing he wanted to taste was his wife’s lips. His heart thundered against his chest in excitement. Instead of Octavia getting lost in yards of fabric, she was stunning in a sleek fabric that draped her figure, but still left a lot to his imagination. She had that wow factor on him every time he looked at her.
God, what did I do to deserve her? he thought.
Absolutely nothing, God whispered back and Landon smiled.
A slight breeze ushered her closer. Landon stepped from his post to meet her. He shook hands with her father.
The music continued to play, but Landon didn’t budge. This was his day—their day—and he wanted to catalog everything. Octavia’s curls were glossy and styled to frame her gorgeous face. “Thank You, Jesus,” he said and exhaled. Octavia Winston was about to be Octavia Thomas within minutes.
“Landon, babe,” she whispered, “You’re supposed to walk me to the altar.”
He bit his bottom lip and nodded. “Right.” Landon lingered a moment longer then escorted her until they were standing in front of his former pastor from his home church in Boston who had volunteered to officiate.
“It would be my honor to be part of your restoration. Your marriage will be a testament to God’s salvation that you’re an overcomer,” Pastor Justice had said when Landon spoke to him in confidence when he was in Boston on his last trip.
“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to celebrate the union of Brother Landon Thomas and Sister Octavia Winston…”
The couple barely made it through their vows as Landon tried his best to hold back tears and Octavia’s flowed freely while her sister dabbed at her cheeks.
“You promise before God’s presence that you will forsake all others. Let no man or woman come between you, be loyal and loving at all times…” He looked at Landon. “Cherish her at all times. Never forget the priceless jewel you have.”
“Never—ever,” he whispered.
Then the pastor turned to Octavia. “Respect him, submit to him, hold him up before God and most importantly love him. By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife. What God has joined together, let no woman, man, or child come between you in the name of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. Amen.” He paused. “Brother Landon, you may now salute your—”
“Daddy, I’ve got to pee,” Benson said, shattering the moment as Landon glanced down at his son who was holding his pants.
“Not now, son,” Landon hushed.
“I’ll take him,” his grandfather volunteered as everyone chuckled.
“Without further delay, you may kiss your bride.” Pastor Justice smiled.
Sweeping Octavia into his arms, he kissed her and then placed pecks on her cheeks until he whispered into her ear, “I’ll never make you regret being my wife.”
“I know.” They kissed again, and the rest was history.