Chapter 9 - The Four Little Ring Bearers
Six months later, summer had returned to New York City.
The sun shone brightly over a private estate in the Hamptons—a beautiful oceanfront sanctuary I had purchased specifically to serve as our new family haven, far away from the chaotic memory of Manhattan high society.
The lawn was covered in white roses, hydrangeas, and soft green foliage. Gentle ocean breezes rustled the leaves of the towering oak trees surrounding the altar.
Inside the dressing suite, I stood before the mirror, tightening my silk bow tie.
Behind me stood Milo, Mason, Max, and Micah. All four boys were dressed in identical, perfectly tailored gray tuxedos with silver bow ties. They looked like miniature princes, their gray-blue eyes sparkling with excitement.
Milo walked up beside me, placing his hand on the mirror counter and sweeping his dark hair back from his forehead—the classic Whitaker habit.
I smiled, dropping to one knee to straighten his lapel. "Nervous, buddy?"
"A little bit," Milo admitted, grinning. "Because Mason swallowed a piece of cake earlier and we thought he was going to ruin his suit!"
"I didn't swallow it, I just bit it fast!" Mason protested playfully, poking his brother in the arm.
I laughed out loud, pulling all four of my sons into a massive group hug. "You guys look handsomer than I do."
"Dad," Max asked, leaning close to my ear. "Are we going to be a real family now?"
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"We’ve been a real family since the second I found you boys," I said warmly, kissing each of their foreheads. "Today is just us telling the whole world about it."
The sound of soft piano music began drifting through the open doors, signaling that the ceremony was about to begin.
