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The sunlight filters through the cathedral windows, making a halo behind the bride's head. There's not a more beautiful sight he has ever seen, Charles thinks. The love of his life, his wife-to-be, the one he would spend the rest of his life with.
They're holding hands, smiling at each other as the preacher speaks. Charles doesn't really register his words, too happy to understand anything really. He's just waiting for his cue to say I do.
“If any of you believe these two shall not be married,” the preacher says, “speak now, or forever hold your peace.”
They'd explained that it was just a part of the ceremony. Nobody objects to unions in weddings anymore, just a little pause before they go on. So naturally, everybody had expected to continue without any hiccups. Except,
“I object!” came a voice from the audience. Charles turned to look for the source of the voice.
“Carlos?”
The Spaniard, dressed in his sharpest suit, had stood up from his seat, his arm raised in the air. “I object to this union,” he repeats.
“Carlos, what are you doing?” Charles asks, utterly confused.
“I am so sorry, Charles, but I just could not see this happen.”
“What do you mean? It's my wedding.”
“Exactly! I could not just sit here and watch you get married because I—”
“I object as well!” came another voice from somewhere behind Carlos.
“Max, what the fuck?” Charles sputters, the slip of profanity earning a gasp from the preacher.
“Charles,” he says with that characteristic lisp of his, “don't do this.”
“What do you even—why?”
“What about us, Charles?” Carlos pipes up. His eyebrows are drawn together, lips forming a pout like he's about to start crying any second and it's all just so very confusing.
“I, too, have a problem with this union.” It's a third voice. Charles' head is on Mars.
“I object to this as well your honour!” repeats Lando. Max and Carlos give him a nod of acknowledgement, Charles pinches the bridge of his nose.
Beside him, his bride whispers, “Babe, what's going on?”
“I have no idea,” he answers. “Just, let me sort this out.” He turns to the crowd where now there are four men sta—oh for fuck’s sake.
“You too, Oscar?”
“Everybody else who objects is standing up so…”
“Now why in God’s n—” Charles stops himself when he sees the preacher glare at him. “Why on Earth would you want to do that?”
“Because I don't want you to get married!” he replies like it's the most obvious answer. The others seem to agree.
“What about all the time we spent?” Max asks.
“What about the promises you made?” Lando adds.
“I drew up so many plans for our future,” Carlos seems to reminisce.
“I didn't even get as much time with you and these guys did,” Oscar states.
None of it makes much sense to Charles, though he's starting to get an idea now.
“If you all wanted a chance so badly then why did none of you make a move?” he asks. His bride's eyes go wide at the question.
“Charles?!”
“Shh, cheri, just let me handle this,” he reassures her with a smile. “Answer me,” he says to the crowd.
Carlos sighs, shaking his head. “Because we were too scared to ruin something beautiful that we already had. We couldn't bear to lose you as a friend too. Having no part of you is so much worse than still having some part of you. And we thought we would get time but then—” Carlos cuts himself off, too choked up to form any more words. Lando drapes his arm across his shoulder to comfort him.
“This was our only chance,” Max says. “We've been fools but please give us another chance to vie for your affection.”
Charles has no clue how to respond. Here he is, standing at the altar with his beautiful bride, ready to be wed. And then four men, who are supposed to be his friends, object to the union. The preacher gives him a look as if asking whether he should proceed. According to the rules the marriage cannot go on till the issue at hand has been resolved, which it doesn't seem to be anywhere close to being.
Charles is racking his brain trying to come up with a way to solve this issue, when the cathedral doors burst open, and a man comes running inside.
“Am I too late?” he asks, panting. Charles looks up at the ceiling as if to ask God, Really?
For standing in the aisle, a Gucci duffel bag hanging off one shoulder, is the world No. 1 tennis player Jannik Sinner.
“Amore mio, don't do this,” he says, desperation evident in his voice. “Don't do this, I beg. Think about us.”
“You too?!” Charles asks with exasperation. Just how many men are going to burst in? It's certainly not a great look for Charles. It's five men already here and it's five too many. Charles cannot even begin to defend his honour.
“Weren't you in Paris just now?” Oscar asks. Jannik turns to him and nods.
“Yes. Just won the Paris Masters.”
“The match ended two hours ago though,” Max adds.
“Yeah, I came straight from the court. Immediately jumped onto a plane. I think the sponsors are very mad at me now but I don't care,” he turns towards Charles again. “I beg you, don't do this please. I can keep you happy. I will understand you as a fellow sportsman.”
That comment immediately starts up a ruckus.
“You think you can relate to him better than us?”
“We are in the same exact sport as him, mate.”
“I think we've got more things in common between us.”
“We've known each other since we were kids!”
Charles tries to intervene, tries to get them to stop but it doesn't work. They're just not ready to listen. The preacher is starting to get agitated, so is Charles’ wife-to-be. He looks at them apologetically. There's nothing more he can seem to do now anyway.
The other guests are confused, some whispering among themselves because really, this is the kind of gossip that will not die down for years, will get shared at family dinners and best friend brunches. Charles will, quite literally, be the talk of the town.
The men tussle, well, sort of, and the preacher watches on with concern. Charles tries to jump in but gets pushed away almost immediately. He's at wit’s end, seconds away from a breakdown when there is yet another voice cutting through the noise of the crowd.
A woman's voice.
“I object! I object! My love, I'm here. Don't do it!”
The men in the midde of the hall turn around, everybody does, towards where the voice is coming from. Both Charles and Carlos' jaws drop open.
“Rebe?” Carlos sounds as surprised as anyone would be. “What are you doing?”
“I could ask you the same,” she replies and it shuts Carlos up. She ignores the men and walks up to the altar. Charles is absolutely terrified because when did he lead Rebecca on? That is worse than him leading his coworkers on somehow. But when she reaches the steps, Rebecca doesn't stop by Charles. She walks up, onto the altar, and to Alexandra.
“Oh darling, I am so sorry I'm late. The traffic was insane today I got stuck at a red light for like thirty minutes.”
Charles looks at Alexandra, who is standing completely still, her face wearing a similar shocked expression as everyone else in the church. Rebecca has taken Alex's hands into hers, her thumbs brushing over the other woman's knuckles. The behaviour rather puzzles Charles than filling him with jealousy.
Slowly, he reaches out, “Alex?” At the first brush of his fingertip, Alex seems to unfreeze.
“Mi amor,” she gasps as she throws her arms around Rebecca, pulling the woman close against herself. “I was getting so worried, I thought you wouldn't come,” she lets out as she quietly weeps, her tears soaking the shoulder of Rebecca’s shirt.
Charles looks around as if trying to make sense of what's happening. “Alex?” he tries again, but he gets no response. It's as if he has ceased to exist.
Rebecca slowly pulls Alex's face off her shoulder and gently wipes the tears off her cheeks. Alex lets out a wet chuckle.
“You look beautiful, my love,” Rebecca's voice comes out soft, laced with love and adoration. Alex blushes at the praise. “Come,” she holds her hand out for Alex, “let's go.”
Alex nods. She brings a hand up to remove her veil. The fabric falls to the floor as she lets herself get pulled away. Right before getting off the altar, Alex looks behind her.
“I'm really sorry about this. I would feel worse but you've got a few options here as well so I think you'll be fine.” She gives Charles a little wave goodbye. “See you around.”
The two women are out the ornate double doors of the cathedral before Charles even has time to process what happened in the past fifteen minutes. Slowly, he lowers himself onto the ground. He feels the dull throb of an oncoming headache and puts his head in his hands, hiding himself from the chaos for a few minutes. Everybody just watches him.
“Oh, he looks sad,” Lando coos with a hand on his heart. “I should go check on him, he needs some comfort.” He steps over the fallen veil, making his way to Charles, but gets stopped by an arm against his chest.
“Not so fast, mate,” Oscar squints at him. “Everybody here is worried about him.”
“Yes, and as his closest friend, I should go and lend him a shoulder,” Carlos declares, but his effort to reach Charles gets interrupted by Max.
“Whoa there mister. Are we forgetting that I’ve known him the longest? I’ll be able to help him better. You all should head home now I think.”
“I can speak to him, heart to heart, in Italian. It’ll help him if he doesn’t have to talk his feelings out in a fourth language,” Jannik says. Carlos’ head whips around at that.
“I can speak Italian too, cabron. I can handle it.”
“But you’re not a true Italian, are you?”
“If we’re speaking about knowing him, even I’ve known him for years before F1,” Oscar adds. “And I’m friends with his brother. I should stay. You all can leave.”
“I’ve known him since we were kids,” Max interjects.
“A fact that you never let us forget,” Lando drawls, clearly annoyed. “We literally talked all the time during quarantine. If we were close during the most trying time for humankind all around, then it just means our bond’s the strongest.”
“I was his teammate for four years,” Carlos adds.
“And what a teammate you were,” Max says. That gets Carlos.
“You go to hell, Verstappen—”
It dissolves into madness pretty quickly, the men now just stopping each other from reaching the man sitting in a sullen mood by the altar. Charles lifts his head, sees the commotion, and sighs.
What was it that Alex said? He’s got a few options here. He takes one more look at the options provided and lets out a groan.