Vogue | Tony Stark

SEVENTY THREE - RED AND WHITE

"You want me to leave the car running? We can make a quick getaway if you change your mind."

Estélla turned to give her father a knowing smile when he parked the red mustang outside the church a few minutes before midday on August 5th. He looked handsome in a black tuxedo with a rose pinned to the breast pocket and his sophisticated look reminded Esté of the way she'd seen her father as a little girl, always dressed in fancy suits and shiny shoes.

The sun was beating down on the Hamptons from a cloudless blue sky, birds soaring across the surface of the turquoise waters and through luscious green trees. There was salt in the gentle breeze and a sweet freshness from the patisseries and ice cream shops that lined the small streets, laughter from children and chatter from adults walking with plastic buckets and spades in their hands heading towards the beaches.

"Thank you," Esté said, "But you can turn it off, Dad."

George chuckled and killed the engine, hauling in a breath as he pulled the key from the ignition and spun it around in his fingers. He and Tony had spent hours over the past two months fixing up the old beauty, working in shade of the garage while Esté and Leonie chased Selena around on the lawn.

It felt like the old times, and it felt right. Tony had always been a part of the Goldwyn family and he'd given George and Leonie the most precious gift imaginable in Selena, but seeing Estélla happy because of him had been a gift Tony had been giving them since he was a child.

"I know, but I had to ask. Let's get you and this dress out of the car, wait there."

George's eyes were covered by a pair of black wayfarers and he adjusted the cuffs of his white shirt as he walked around the front of the car to open the door for his daughter. He bent down beside her, helping to lift the train of her dress out without catching on the car as she stepped out into the fresh air.

Esté sighed happily and fanned out her dress, walking up the wooden steps of the small porch that fronted the church. She and Tony had toyed with the idea of getting married at St Patrick's church in the city, though ultimately decided on a small ceremony in the Hamptons for their wedding day with a reception at the Goldwyn's home, planning on having a bigger celebration with everybody else tied in with Esté's birthday a few weeks later.

As she felt the sun kiss her skin on the porch and was free from the flashes of paparazzi and bright lights, Esté knew that she and her husband-to-be had made the right decision. She had vivid memories of her and Tony sprinting down that very street to race to the ice cream parlour, barefoot after spending all day at the beach. She remembered her father teaching her to drive in the parking lot of the church on late autumn evenings and she remembered arguing with Tony about a school project outside the bakery across the street.

Esté remembered everything, and she would remember that moment right then, too, the moment before she married her best friend.

"Gosh, you look so beautiful, Esté."

George stood at the foot of the steps with his hands on his hips, shaking his head in disbelief as he gazed up at his little girl, removing his sunglasses so his blue eyes could meet her's.

She truly did look beautiful, the one of a kind dress from Tom making her look like some kind of angel, something from another world. Her hair was in her signature Hollywood curls though half pinned back, two golden strands framing her face loosely. Her makeup was simple and bronzed, lifted cheeks with a peach blush and subtle shimmering eye shadow that brought out the ocean swimming in her eyes. Her lips were nude and glossed and she wore simple gold earrings, her skin bare of any other jewellery.

"Really?" Esté asked.

George scoffed, "Darling, you are the most beautiful girl in the world. I love you so much."