New York || Damon Salvatore [1]

Chapter Twenty-Three

1977 — Provincetown, Massachusetts

   In the middle of June, Rohan Beauchene was to marry Detective Thomas Howell in a quaint ceremony in an arboretum they had found while searching for flowers. The arboretum had a few places where weddings could be held, and the one the future Mr. and Mrs. Howell chose was the DeGolyer House. Built in 1940, it was an exceptional 21,000 square feet showpiece provided for majestic settings. It was designed in the Spanish Colonial Revival style, and listed on the National Register of Historic Places. 

   The house was surrounded by pecan, oak, and magnolia trees, string lights zig-zagging from each corner of the yard that would be the place of the reception. Tables with white table cloths, flowers in an array of purples, whites, and pinks on top for decoration. In front of the plates there was a place card, his name written in a deep cursive gold. He picked it up and smiled, then laid it back down where it was before the wedding planner yelled at him for putting something out of place. 

   Damon glanced around, the same small smile on his lips. In a few months, he will be in a similar location, in one of the rooms of the house, getting ready with a grin on his face and his heart right at his throat. In a few months, he was to marry Freya Beauchene and the thought alone made him feel tingly all over. He thought that it would be best to have his brother there, as best man, if he was willing to forgive him for leaving before they went to war. Ever since those thoughts came to his mind, he had Will and Thomas help him search for Stefan. So far, all he knew was that he had returned home, his brother was in Mystic Falls. Instead of a call—he wasn't ready for that—Damon decided to send a letter to his younger brother, telling him that he would like to meet again, and that he would like to present him to someone that had become very special in his life.

   Now that he thought about it, Damon had become a bit like his brother. Instead of writing in a journal—his brother used to do that a lot—he wrote letters. Just simple ones, beginning with the date, his confession of love, and ending with 'I love you, Damon'. Each time he wrote one at the end of the nights, he thought it was silly to confess his secrets, his undying love for Freya in a piece of paper. But, in another way, he didn't mind. She was the only person that made him want to be human, that made him want to go back to feeling pain and love—the most powerful human emotions. 

   Damon Salvatore just wanted happiness.

   With the same stupid smile on his lips, Damon walked inside the house with his hands in his pockets and eyes glancing around. He wouldn't mind getting married in a garden during the golden summertime. It was a nice warmth, between the trees and flowers and the smell of honeysuckle in the air. He knew that Freya would love it, especially since it was connected to nature.

   "How do I look?"

   The vampire turned and suddenly stopped in his tracks. In front of him stood the most beautiful woman in the world, watercolour green eyes staring back at him with the same love he stared at her. Freya stood before him in a beautiful cloud coloured Roman-style dress, a crown of pink, whites, and purple flowers surrounding her head. She was breathtaking to the vampire, a piece of art that he wanted to continue to look at forever.

   The theme of the wedding was nature. Just that—nature. Flowers everywhere, the sun bright and out with a gentle breeze cooling everyone down, nature at its finest. Ioanna had charmed the place to stay cool, that there would be the brightest day but with the smoothest temperature. 

   "Wow..." Damon muttered, staring at the woman that stood in front of him. "I mean... Wow, you look beautiful." He stepped towards her and laid a gentle kiss on her lips. Quick and simple, not wanting to ruin the makeup.