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I wanted my wedding to be flawless, which was why every venue, every theme and every idea was perfect until I found a better one. Jordan was no help at all. He said didn't care whatever the color scheme or location as long as it ended with me as his wife.
In the end he took matters into his hands. We eloped.
I had no idea he was planning it when we went to Henderson to visit Drew three months ago. He’d taken us out on a drive to downtown Las Vegas the morning after we arrived at Henderson, then suggested exploring the city for a bit.
We’d just had brunch and were enjoying a leisurely stroll when we walked past the Marriage License Bureau on East Clarke Street. It evoked fond memories of way back when.
“Jordan look.” I pointed to the building. “Remember how we planned to come here and get married?” He nodded. “I feel like that’s the most risky thing I’ve ever almost done. Imagine if we’d actually done—why are we stopping?” Jordan pulled me toward the row of small steps leading to the entrance.
“We’re doing it,” he simply says.
“Doing what?” I snatch my hand from his in panic.
“Getting married. Right now.”
“Jordan! Are you out of your mind?”
“No. We’re engaged. We were going to do it anyway.”
“Yeah, on the harbor of Battery Park City in spring. Or that cozy chapel with the beautiful flower garden in summer.”
“We can do it again whenever you decide and as many times as you want baby,” he points, “but as of today, in there is where it’s happening.”
Oh God, I’m getting married. About a million butterflies flutter wildly in my belly. We’re going to be husband and wife today. My heart pounds in excitement and fear and my palms grow slick. I realize I want to do this.
How long exactly has he been planning this? And why didn't I ever think of this? It’s perfect place for us!
He moves toward the automatic glass doors and then looks back. “Are you coming Bree?”
“Jesus. Give me two seconds to digest the romantic news, caveman.” I’m lying. I love the idea, almost as much as I love when he gets all dominant alpha on me.
We returned to Henderson the next day and broke the news to Drew, who was tickled pink. He swore he already knew we’d gone and done something like that when we went to Las Vegas and spent the night because his funny bone was going crazy. Well, what else is new with Drew?
I didn’t think it was possible to be more in love with Jordan than I already was but the last six months have proven me wrong. It got deeper with each passing day until it was impossible to tell where I ended and he began.
“One thing I’ve learned from their journey is that True Love Always Wins. Cheers to the bride and groom.” Dalia, the maid of honor, raises her flute in salute, prompting everyone else in the hall to do the same, then clink their glasses together.
“Cheers Mrs. Farrington.” Jordan touches his glass to mine, looking deeply into my eyes.
“Back at you sir.” I’m burning up under his gaze.
“I’ve missed you so fucking much Bree,” Jordan complains.
“I know babe. I’m literally on my last legs now. You did say delayed gratification would be good.” After the relative distance in the last couple of weeks, having him close and sharing dances and kisses all day has been overwhelming, to say the least. I’m so ready to finish this and tear him out of his suit.
“That must be the most idiotic idea I’ve ever had,” Jordan replies and I laugh.
We’ve both been working really hard to get our schedules cleared so we could take off for a month-long honeymoon cruise. He’s been away from New York for the better part of the past couple of months, and between Apex Energy, Acercraft, exhibitions, and renovating my gallery—a wedding present from Jordan— there’s just been almost no time to fully indulge in each other.
“I have to agree it wasn't your finest moment. Although, it was also the same week you surprised me with the gallery, so I can’t complain too much about your judgement.”
I’ve had to resign from my job at the Century Gallery in order to focus on private showings, something Bonnie and Mike were indirectly responsible for.
Mike had asked at one of my exhibitions if I had a website and if he could take a look at it. He’d been so impressed with what he saw—Bonnie’s work—that he insisted I needed to be more ‘out there.’ He offered to ‘tweak a few things’ and implement some marketing strategies to boost engagement. I’d naively kept open the booking calendar on the website as I didn't expect so much to happen so quickly. Within mere days, I was inundated with requests for more exhibition dates. It was either backtrack or go full steam ahead at that point. Dalia had to step in as lead curator and has now hired a new assistant.
A couple of weeks after I quit my job, I’d woken up to Jordan’s text, telling me I needed to meet with an exhibition design team for brunch on Madison Avenue, promising they’d come very highly recommended and guaranteed I would love what they do. I was mildly surprised to discover the address was for a townhouse and even more so when I was let into the vacant space—by my husband.
Jordan had bought me the house and the 'exhibition team' was a renovation and decorating company. I couldn’t, in my wildest dreams, have conjured up a better space or location for my gallery, and I was still stunned speechless by the time the contractors arrived.
