Wedding

“I never thought Elita and Moore would get hitched,” Galen said under his breath to Quid as they watched the bridal party move toward the altar.

“Why?” Quid asked, leaning closer.

He shrugged as he answered, “Thought theirs was more of a ‘fuck it out of their systems’ kind of thing.”

Quid though about that. About how Elita and Moore went head to head over almost everything. Years ago they couldn’t even be in the same room without Moore starting something, which meant Elita had to respond and it was very rarely pretty. Moore had been without a cellphone for the good part of a year because Elita kept frying it and Elita had suffered unnecessary security details for longer. Before Elita, Moore had dated infrequently and slept mostly with maneating vixens. Elita had been engaged to a kind-faced man who Moore had killed when he revealed himself to be part of an organization that wanted to weaponize Elita.

“They fit,” Quid said, finally.

“They do,” Galen agreed.

The ceremony was being held on a mountain, a solid hour hike from their cars and any technology. The gathering was small and no one had cellphones or pagers or digital cameras. Hye-Jung had refused her invite, selecting to attend only the reception so their technopath friend could have a peaceful wedding. Only Ivan had a camera and it was analog.

Moore was dressed in black jeans, a black button-down, and a pale green tie. His dark hair was slicked back and he was clean-shaven. He was on guard, his eyes scanning the area for threats, one hand on the butt of his gun that hung off his belt. The restless tension he was exuding when he laid eyes on Elita.

Her wavy red hair was loose, her riotous curls, for once, not contained. She was dressed in a summer dress that matched her fiancé’s tie and she was barefoot. She carried a bouquet of wildflowers she had picked on the way up and her fawn-brown eyes were steady on Moore.

The ceremony was short and sweet and on the way back down the mountain, Galen stopped Quid.

“Hey.”

Quid looked at him quizzically.

“I have a question I want you to think about, no need to answer right now,” he said, slipping his arms around her waist and kissing her forehead, and sun-pinked cheeks.

“Okay.” Quid relaxed into his embrace.

“Will you marry me?”

Hours later, shuffling around the dance floor, Quid answered.

“Yes.”

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