“I can think of a few very groom-like things I’d like to do to you.”
“Don’t even.” I pushed him away. I didn’t feel the least bit threatened by this Monique, but it was fun playing it up. Rafael had not been able to convince Damian to wear a tux, but he looked so damn fine in a crisp, white shirt and tailored jacket.
“Fine. I’ll take you to see Monique one day, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.” He tossed the card aside and grabbed my waist. “I have something for you and Sierra.”
He reached inside his jacket for MaMaLu’s Lucky Strike tin and opened it. “She would have wanted you to have these.” He handed me her earrings.
I held them up: two doves joined at the beak to form a circle, with turquoise stones hanging from them. I had a flashback of cool, blue stones brushing against my skin as MaMaLu kissed me goodnight.
“Hey.” Damian wrapped his arms around me. He knew it had been an emotional day for me. I’d missed my father’s three kisses, missed him walking me down the aisle. Sierra had filled in. She’d picked out her own dress: Kermit-the-frog-green, accessorized with a new pair of sneakers. Her one wedding day concession had been a floral hairband that matched the color of her orange shoelaces. Apart from a headache, she had come around from the sedative Victor had administered with no idea of the disaster we had escaped. When I thought about how close we’d come to losing it all, I hugged Damian tighter.
“You think she’ll like it?” he asked, holding up MaMaLu’s hair clip.
It was shaped like a fan, made from abalone shells and alpaca metal—pretty without being too girly.
Sierra examined it before handing it to me. She turned around and motioned to her hair, voicing her silent approval. I gathered two sections of her hair from the sides and secured the clip in center.
“What’s this?” she asked, unfolding the newspaper article that Damian had saved all these years:
‘LOCAL NANNY ACCUSED OF STEALING FAMILY HEIRLOOM.’
“This is a little piece of paper that caused a whole lot of trouble,” said Damian.
“Look.” I caught a yellow flower as the night breeze rustled through the trees. In the moonlight, it looked almost ivory, like my dress. Damian tucked it behind my ear.
“Have I told you how beautiful you look today?”
I had planned on designing my own wedding gown, but then Damian had found the Louboutins I’d left behind on the island, and once I’d strapped them on, I felt a full-fledged celebration coming on. The WAM! facility was up and running, and I splurged on a strapless Vera Wang design.
“Hey! I did it!” Sierra was sitting at the edge of the pond, pointing to something in the water. Floating away from her was a perfect paper swan.
“Nice.” Damian crouched next to her, but then his smile faded. “Is that . . . what did you use to make it?”
“The piece of paper in that old tin.”
Damian swung his hand out and pulled the swan out of the water.
“What’s the matter?” asked Sierra.
Damian had carried that newspaper article with him for so long, his first instinct was to preserve it. He looked at me as he held it, and we both thought of the story MaMaLu had told us, about a magic swan that graced the grounds of Casa Paloma, a swan that could bless you with the rarest of treasures.
I caught my breath as Damian placed the swan back in the water and realization hit me.
You don’t always get the treasure by holding on. Sometimes the magic happens when you let go.
And Damian was letting go of all the things that had fueled him for so long—the rage, the injustices, the horrors he had witnessed in Caboras, the guilt he felt over his actions. Sierra had folded them up and set them free. We watched in silence as the swan disappeared into the shadow side of the pond, and all that remained was an empty Lucky Strike tin.