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The fresh air is welcome against his skin as he finally gets to the small balcony, the back of his dress shirt sticking to his skin. He’d almost forgotten how hot those summer nights can get.
From here, he can still hear the music, the laughs from the dancefloor, but there’s the quiet of the night, too. Guzmán breathes it in.
Underneath him, the conversations are quieter, with people seating on the wooden chairs, a cigaret in one hand, a drink on the other, some even sprawled on the grass, looking up at the stars.
The night is perfect, and there’s a million of them. He’s not used to that, not anymore.
He’s not exactly sure how long he’s been here when she comes to lean next to him on the stone railing. They’re quiet for a while.
At one point, Omar and Ander walk by before their eyes, oblivious to anything but each other. His friend has that smile, the one Guzmán’s only ever seen when he’s with Omar.
“They really do look good together,” she says, and he can only agree, really. “Would you ever have guessed that they’d end up together?”
“You mean when I first followed Ander to one of their secret meetings, and then understood he was buying drugs from him? No, not really,” and Nadia chuckles. “You?”
“Well, after the forth break-up, I admit, I had my doubts.”
Guzmán snorts - the history of these two really had become something of the movies, at this point. “But I guess I’ve never seen my brother like this with anyone else. Even when they went their separate ways, and he met Itzan…It just wasn’t the same, you know?”, and he nods.
He does know. Not being able to look at someone the way you did your high school sweetheart still sounds familiar, even years later.
“And thank God, right?” he says instead. “Otherwise we would have been deprieved of that strong tuxedo game,” he gestures to the happy couple. “Man, those suits are good.”
When he turns his head to finally look at her, there’s a small smile on her lips. Her dark curls frame her face, perfect, still so perfect, and Nadia looks back at him, eyes bright.
“Hi.”
“Hi. You look absolutely beautiful.”
Her smile grows, and even in the moonlighted night, he can see her cheeks colour a bit. “So, how is your night going so far?”
“Well, I can’t really feel my feet anymore, but I did bring flats to keep dancing until we see that sun coming up, so that’s okay,” and he chuckles. “And it feels good, seeing everyone. I realized tonight I haven’t seen some of them for, well -years.”
He knows what she means.
Fifteen years - he’d finished high school fifteen damn years ago. He still couldn’t believe it, sometimes. They still keep in touch, of course, still see other, but with some of them in New-York, some in Paris, and Rebe’s back and forth to Buenos Aires, big reunions with every member of the group aren’t exactly every day occurences anymore.
“Yeah, it’s crazy. I mean, have you seen how big Carla’s girls have gotten? They have teeth and like, the ability to walk and form proper words now,” he jokes, making her chuckle.
“Whatever you do, don’t follow that with a ‘It’s frightening, how time flies,’ because then you enter the same category as our parents, and I don’t think we’re ready for that particular club yet. And anyway: the next big step is thirty-five, right? And thirty-five sounds great.”
“Amazing.”
“I can’t wait.”
“I mean, first big headaches about whether or not to buy a house to raise a family in, probably - how exciting.”
“First major doubts about career.”
“The beginning of those one-week hungovers when the party gets wild.”
“Cravings for quinoa and yoga classes.”
“Back pains, from both the yoga classes and the simple fact of sitting for a little too long.”
“Oh, that one friend that wants to do bingo night everyweek,” she squeals, fake excitement everywhere, and he laughs.
With a sigh, Nadia turns and closes her eyes as she leans, back against the rail, content. The light from the far away dancefloor reflects on her face now, and he lets his eyes travel over every line, every detail.
Then, looks back at the gardens.
“Your father does look pride,” he says eventually, breaking the silence. “Happy.”
There’s no doubt in her voice when she answers.
“I think he is, yes.”
Guzmán turns his head to glance back at her. “Are you?,” and she opens her eyes at that, meeting his instantly.
She stares at him for a few seconds, and then nods as she gives him a small smile that makes his chest feels tighter, all of the sudden. “I am,” she says softly. “I really am.”
Then, eases the heaviness of the moment. “I mean, Lu told me that I was, quote, ‘the most beautiful bride I’ve ever seen, and I’ve been to four royal weddings Nadia - four.’“
Despite the feelings suddenly bubbling up in his throat, his laugh is real.
“What about you?” she asks after a while, eyes looking straight into his. “Are you happy?”
And the thing is…he is.
There was a time when he thought that the loss of his sister would condam him to a life that will forever be empty, incomplete. A time where he couldn’t even imagine standing here, talking to Nadia, absolutely perfect in her wedding dress, beaming.
But he did it. It hurt, still does, and he has regrets that will never go away, but despite having the worse happen, despite the nightmares and the pain anchoring him down, he made it.
Despite what his seventeen years-old self believed at the time, today Guzmán’s thirty-three, and he wouldn’t trade his life for anything else. Because he is -
He’s happy.
Before he can answer her, though, Samu is behind them, sweaty and smiling and probably a little drunk.
“Sorry to interrupt, people, but - two things. First, there’s an uncle Martin who wants a dance with the bride, and he won’t leave me alone until I bring her to him,” he states.
Then, looks at him. “Only with the groom’s blessing, of course,” and Guzmán shrugs.
“As long as she’s fine with it. But he is the charming one of the family, so try and not fall in love with him,“ and Nadia rolls her eyes.
“Perfect. Second and most important,” Samu continues, “as you can see, there’s a little guy here asking for you.” And sure enough, Axel keeps trying to jingle out of his arms, desperatly reaching towards them despite the three adults torturing him.
Smiling, Guzmán puts him out of his misery, and holds out his hands.
“Tired, aren’t we?”, and the little monster babbles something in his own language, immediately throwing his arms around his father’s neck, burrying his face there.
He’s sweet, and smiley, and happy, pure light, and when he’s tired, it’s all about cuddles and kisses.
Marina would have loved him.
“Don't worry - go enjoy your special dance,” he says as Nadia kisses their son’s curls, a soothing hand on his small back. "I'll put him to bed."
“Alright - I’ll join you in a few minutes."
Her fingers travel to his chin, then, and Guzmán smiles against her lips as she kisses him once, twice. His free hand comes to cup her cheek, and for the hundreth time that day, he wonders what he can possibly have done to deserve this.
"I am happy," he finally answers her question, only for her to hear.
His boy’s small body in one hand, Nadia - his wife - in the other, there's absolutely no doubt in his mind. "I'm the happiest I've ever been."
"Alright, lovebirds," Samuel’s voice shouts out, ruining things as per usual. "You'll have all of your life to make out now, let's move it - the dancefloor is waiting!", and Guzmán throws him a look.
Grinning, Nadia puts one last kiss on his cheek, another on Axel's, and with a whispered ‘I love you,’ lets herself be dragged away by their friend.
Axel whines against his skin, fingers scratching his little eyes.
“Yes, I know - your uncle really is an idiot,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to his baby’s head. “No wonder you’re bored of him. Come on - let’s get you settled, champ.”
Chuckling at the little whimper he gets in response, Guzmán heads towards the bedrooms aisle.