New York City Police Commissioner Frank Reagan stood in his bedroom of his two-story home in Brooklyn, taking one last look at the photo of his deceased wife Mary, mother of his four children. He had kept the photo of her on the top of his chest of drawers since the day he buried her ten years ago. But it was no longer the proper place for it, he felt. The next time he would be in this room, he would not be alone. The next time he slept in his bed, he would not be alone. He slipped the photo into the top drawer, making a mental note to add it to the other family photos in his downstairs den later. He took one last look at himself in the mirror, straightening his navy blue and red stripped tie. He knew it was Nicole's favorite, and that was why he had chosen it for this very special day — their wedding day.
A knock on his bedroom door interrupted his thoughts.
"Come in, Pop."
"How'd you know it was me, Francis?" Henry Reagan asked as he entered the room.
"Because we're the only two people in the house at the moment."
"Last time it will be just the two us living here, isn't it."
"That's right. Are you sure you're okay with it?"
"I think the bigger question is whether you and Nicole are sure you're both okay with me staying on here."
"It's your home, Pop. Nicole understands that. We both want you here, neither one of us would have it any other way."
"I'm glad. It is where I want to be. But I don't want to be in the way. It's going to be an adjustment for both of you, I would think."
"It's a big house, there's plenty of room for the three of us. So, how do I look?" Frank asked, standing tall and straight, after buttoning the jacket to his three-piece suit.
"You look great, son. I like that tie."
"So does Nicole. Her favorite tie, and suit. I thought I should have a new one for the occasion, but Nicole insisted on this one."
"Well, Nicole has good taste, in ties, suits, and men."
Frank smiled. "Thanks."
"So, you ready, son? About time we head to the church, don't you think?"
"I do." He smiled again. "I can't believe I'm about to say that to Nicole. I'm still getting used to the fact that she actually said yes when I proposed."
"She loves you. That I've never doubted for a moment."
"And I love her."
"That I've never doubted for a second either. From the moment you first brought her here for Sunday dinner, I knew you had it bad."
"It was that obvious, was it?"
"Well, you made no effort to hide it. That was how I knew she was the right one for you. She made you happy. Everyone could see that. I'm just glad you didn't take too long to figure that out for yourself. Nervous?"
"No, not at all," Frank replied, then tilting his head from side to side, he said, "Well, maybe a little."
It hadn't taken long for Frank Reagan to know that romance novelist Nicole Richardson was the right woman for him, that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her, that he wanted to share his family with her, share her with them. He had been pleased that they had accepted her almost immediately once he and Nicole made their relationship public. Danny had had reservations, but he'd finally come around, for the most part at least. He and Nicole still clashed at times, but the situation never seemed to be something they couldn't all work out.
It had been five months since Sybil Rosseni, Nicole's best friend, had introduced them at a dinner party in her home, three months since Frank had gotten down on one knee and proposed. Some would consider it a short romance — too short, but they both knew it was what they wanted; neither felt the need for a long engagement. The press had gone wild with the announcement of their engagement. Frank found press conferences frustrating, always wanting to stay on topic, while reporters wanted to know details of their wedding plans, honeymoon details. Nicole was hounded with requests for personal interviews, but always declined them, stating she and Frank preferred to keep their personal life private, though they both appreciated everyone's interest and support. When she was asked what it was like to be engaged to the Police Commissioner of New York City, she'd replied, "Absolutely wonderful, just as it would be with any man I was madly in love with as I am Frank." The media loved it. They loved her, found her charm, her smile irresistible, sympathized with her for her loss of her first husband on 9-11. Her book sales skyrocketed. She donated the excess sales to various charities.
The wedding day had finally arrived. Frank's detail waited outside to drive him and his dad to the church, where the rest of his family, his closest friends, and his future bride would be waiting.