Love Which Is True (6:28 PM)
This was it, the grande finale of sorts. Standing up at the altar with Roy behind him nervously running her fingers over the back of his tux. Fidgeting and making sure that he was presentable. Irritated Lyle wriggled in her grip attempting to get away without making a scene, at least Jett as a best man wouldn't be poking at his tux with the precise of a fashion designer quite like Roy. But those thoughts were only halfway in his mind, he was consumed by dedicatedly watching the aisle as if Alaizabel was just going to raise out of it at any second instead of a chorus of music starting to play and the bridal party floating in his general direction would not be alerting him. He wasn't nervous anymore, too eager to even know what nervous feels like at this point. Wanting to see his tiny Elvira walking down the aisle to him, something that he was too drunk to remember the first time around. The music rung in, he'd never liked this song, not in the least, but the notes sounded like he was underwater, miles away from the surface and unable to pick out each single key. Something uncommon for the pianist.Â
Roy's constant snuffling was hardly noticeable at this point as the bridal party started down the aisle Nikki, then Jean, which was a little odd but hey the man's girlfriend was Lyle's best man who was he to judge, Evan, and then the woman that he'd been waiting for. It felt like centuries, the days that went on without seeing her. Lyle couldn't recall whose idea it was he remembered hating the idea, but that didn't matter, all that mattered was that in only a sparse few seconds Alaizabel would be walking down that aisle with Edgar at her side. Lyle couldn't quite help the fact that his heart was up in his throat.Â
