Groom Crying At Wedding Quotes

Go back. Open the bedroom door and send young Aster down the stairs. Place the groom on his feet and draw him away from the bed. Wipe the sheet clean of the bride’s blood. Shake it straight and flatten its wrinkles. Slide off that necklace and return it to the girl as she races to her mother. Fix what has been broken in her, mend it shut again. Clothe him in his wedding finery. Let there be no light. Allow only shadows into this kingdom of man’s making. See him alone in the room. See him free of a father’s attention. See him step beyond the reach of elders and all who advise growing boys on the perils of weakness. Here is Kidane, shaking loose of unseen bindings. Here he is, gifting himself the freedom to tremble. All advice has been taken back and he is no longer the groom instructed to break flesh and draw blood and bring a girl to earthy cries. See this man in the tender moment before he takes his wife. See him wrestle with the first blooms of untapped emotion. Let the minutes stretch. Remove the expectations of a father. Remove the admonishments to stand tall and stay strong. Eliminate the birthright, the privilege of nobility, the weight of ancestors and blood. Erase his father’s name and that of his grandfather’s father and that of the long line of men before them. Let him stand in the middle of that empty bedroom in his wedding tunic and trousers, in his gilded cape and gold ring, and then disappear his name, too. Make of him nothing and see what emerges willingly, without taint of duty or fear.

Oh, ho!” his brother cried, clasping him close in a fierce embrace. “Did you think you’d escape without saying hello?” Then, for Grey’s ears alone, “I’m so frigging proud of you I could just piss.” “Please don’t.” Grey gently pushed him away, meeting the other man’s bright gaze with a lump in his throat. “But thank you.” His mother hugged him as well, so overcome that she began to weep. Grey didn’t know what to do with her, but Archer gave her a handkerchief and Rose discreetly took her aside so she could compose herself. That left Grey with Bronte, who looked as though she was on the verge of tears as well, her blue eyes watery behind her mask. “You,” he said firmly. “Let you and I get one thing straight right now. I don’t care if you’ve already asked Archer. I don’t care what your groom’s family wants, or who you think you’re trying to protect. I will give you away, or there will be no wedding. Is that understood?” The cupid’s bow of his sister’s mouth trembled and for a moment he thought he had been wrong about her and now she hated him, but then she threw herself into his arms, laughing. “I love you,” she whispered against his ear before kissing his cheek. She was gone before Grey could even hug her back, which was probably just as well given the burning in his eyes. “We’ll be all over the scandal rags tomorrow,” Archer crowed with a bit too much enthusiasm. “No doubt,” Grey agreed. “I’m afraid I have provided enough entertainment for one evening. Dinner tomorrow?” His family accept the invitation with quiet aplomb and a great deal of unspoken pride, but it was obvious all the same.

Now that I was in the arms of someone who didn’t breathe, I realized how many sounds a living body really made. His did not, and it was eerie. I wondered if Virgil was alive. Did it matter? He was warm, and strong, and despite the pain of bone pressing into bone, I felt so good in his arms. Safe and cared for. For the briefest moment, all the voices in my head were silent, and I was just a girl carried by her groom. So normal and sweet, I could cry.