Lou is not usually one for fidgeting. Years of running cons has taught her how to appear calm and collected, even—especially—when adrenaline is racing through her body. But on today of all days, she finds herself obsessively adjusting the pink rose on her lapel, messing with her black bowtie, touching her hair, which is swept back into a knot at the back of her head. Doing and undoing the single button on her white wedding tux jacket.
When she was younger, she'd always thought that marriage was merely a formality—a legal and social contract, nothing more. That if a relationship was already loving and strong, there was nothing marriage could add to it beyond a piece of paper and inheritance rights. Which she still thinks is true, to some degree.
But. Nothing in her life had prepared her for the heart-stopping sight of Debbie on one knee, holding a ring with a diamond that they'd stolen together, looking up at her with a trembling smile and shining eyes. All she'd managed was "Lou, baby" before Lou was on her knees too, kissing the tears from her cheeks and the words from her lips, and sighing, "Yeah, honey, yes, of course" into her mouth as Debbie kissed her like her life depended on it. And maybe it did, right then.
There's a knock at the door, and Tammy peeks in. She smiles. "Hey. She's finally here. You ready?"
"I was born ready," Lou says, looking herself over in the mirror one last time before crossing to the door.
"You look lovely," Tammy says. She gives her a quick hug, careful not to crush the rose. "Let's go."
Amita, as the unofficial romantic of the group, had declared that Debbie and Lou were not permitted to spend the night before their wedding together. This came around the same time as Rose's announcement that she would be designing their wedding outfits, and Constance's announcement that she would select the venue secretly and take them there only on the day of, and yes, of course it would be perfect, who did they take her for.
As it turned out, there were very few decisions the brides-to-be were allowed to make for themselves. Which was fine by Lou, frankly. She wasn't all that interested in wedding planning, and it kept the crew busy, which meant she got more time alone with Debbie and their bed, and bathroom, and balcony, and wall.
She suspects that their found family's sudden interest in flowers and dresses and cake recipes had had more to do with their own soulmates than her and Debbie, too. Nothing's been declared yet—none of the others have been together as long as them, after all—but with soulmates, it rarely takes long.
Rose and Daphne are taking it slow, keeping it on the down low for a few months so they can bask in each other's company and prepare for the inevitable crush of media attention that will come with the revelation of their soulmarks.
Before she and Amita got together, during a particularly vicious game of Truth or Dare, Constance had said that marriage was for dummies and that she couldn't imagine ever getting married. But Lou had a feeling even then that she was drinking away her sorrows, and now she's seen the way she puts an arm around Amita's waist protectively when her mother calls, the speculative way she eyes Amita's photos of her nieces and nephews sometimes when she thinks no one's looking. Amita might be the team's unofficial romantic, but Constance would do anything for her, which makes her a sap by proximity.
And Tammy and Nine—well, they have to wait for the divorce papers to go through, and they want the kids to get used to Nine before they move in together, et cetera. But Veronica has already started calling Tammy "mom" and telling her sister to put a ring on it, so Lou thinks that's a pretty sure deal in a year or two.
Lou glances at Tammy's profile as she drives. It's astonishing how much more relaxed she looks. Lou hadn't even realized how often Tammy's jaw was clenched until she actually started smiling regularly.
The whole team had been downstairs having coffee when she and Nine had finally come down from the roof, dizzy from joy and lack of sleep, lips swollen, soulmarks bright and proud on their bare skin. Debbie, ever eagle-eyed, was the first to notice. She was on her feet in an instant.
"Tammy," she'd said, hushed. "Is that—"
"Yeah," Tammy had said, looking up at Nine. They were pressed together, arms looped around each other's waists, and Nine was smiling so shyly, like she couldn't believe it was really real.
Lou had gotten it the quickest. Why Nine had never let any of them touch her, how she must've known from the start; and just thinking about her sitting alone in her beanbag this whole time watching them all fall in love was enough to get her off her chair and wrapping her arms around the both of them in a moment.
And then they were all there, the whole team, crushing the last pair of soulmates in a giant hug that left marks, passionate, colorful, loving marks, all over Nine, and it was official. They were complete.
They arrive twenty minutes later, on a nondescript street in Queens. Lou glances around, a little confused.
"Is this—it?"
"Up here," Tammy says, looking down at her phone, then leading her down the sidewalk to a tiny old church with ivy covering its walls and crumbling stones. Tammy opens the door and steps through, holding the door for Lou, but all she can do is stare.
The church is small, but it's filled with magnificent stained-glass windows, which reflect the hundreds of candles placed all around. Constance, Amita, Rose, Daphne and Nine form a semi-circle around the altar. And then there's Debbie, in a long, elegant black wedding dress, a single pink rose tucked in her tumbling hair.
Taking a deep breath, Lou steps into the church, and walks down the aisle. She takes Debbie's hands when she reaches her, lips curling automatically into a smile.
"Hey," she says.
"Hey yourself," Debbie says. "You look—god. You look amazing."
"You're one to talk."
"Enough, lovebirds," Constance says, stepping forward importantly. "It's my turn to talk."
Honestly, Lou doesn't remember most of the ceremony. She's too busy looking at Debbie, the love of her life. Her soon-to-be wife. They're going to have to file taxes together, and write wills, and all that boring shit.
She can't wait.
True to form, their vows are short and to the point. Debbie says, "Loving you is the only thing I have ever done in my life that really, truly matters, and I'm going to love you forever, okay?"
"Forever?" Lou says, and it's meant to be a joke, but her voice cracks because she's this close to crying.
"Forever," Debbie says, her voice so fiercely serious that Lou does cry then, tears streaking down her face and probably smearing her makeup, dammit. She's forgotten everything she intended to say, her nice scripted speech. But that's fine, because she's had these words since she was eighteen and in love with a girl she met in an alley. Since the first time Debbie took her in.
"Deborah Ocean," she says. "You have been my home, my heart, for—years and years now. You are the only home I've ever had, and the only one I want, and—"
Her vision is blurring, but she looks around at their team.
"You gave me a family," she says. "A family. Do you know—how badly I've wanted—"
Debbie's hands are on her cheeks, wiping away the tears, and she murmurs, "Yeah, baby, I know."
"I love you," Lou says. "I love you so much. Can we kiss now?"
"Yeah," Constance says, voice shaking only slightly. "Uh—by the power vested in me by—whatever, just kiss."
And then Lou Miller is kissing her wife, the cheers of their friends in her ears, and the future is warm and solid in her arms.