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“You’re not getting off the hook that easily,” I informed him. “I want a big wedding. I want a hall that holds three hundred. I want a five-tiered wedding cake and goddamn doves.”
He looked at me like I’d said something he couldn’t comprehend.
“Doves?” he asked.
I shrugged. “I want it all. I want the big wedding. I want to spend twenty grand. I want to have my daddy walk me down the aisle. I want my mother to help pick out my wedding dress.”
He frowned.
“Why?” he asked. “That’s not you…at least I didn’t think it was you.”
I reached Zee’s bike and turned on my heels, leaning my butt against the seat but not straddling it.
“It’s not necessarily my idea of a good time,” I explained. “But…Annmarie wanted that. Annmarie was going to give that to my mom and dad…and I want to do that. I want them to have the memories.”
“This wedding is about you, not them.” He sounded like he was getting pissed now.
The smile that lit my lips was warm. “I know. I also know that I want it. I may not have wanted it then, but I want it now.”
I didn’t know how to explain it, either. Only that this was what I wanted, and hopefully it would be what I’d get.
***
5 months later
It was exactly like I’d envisioned it, down to the five-tiered cake, and the huge poofy wedding dress.
The train could seriously rival Princess Kate’s.
“This is utterly ridiculous,” my father grumbled as he held me tight.
I kind of agreed.
Somewhat.
What he said was true. The train of my gown really was long, heavy, and awkward. Also known as ‘utterly ridiculous.’
My thighs were literally burning due to all the weight I was having to pull with me in my spiked four-inch heels.
“Do I look bad?” I asked nervously as the door started to swing open.
“Don’t be dumb,” my father said. “You’re goddamn beautiful.”
My heart throbbed in my chest as I looked up at my father, who was looking down at me with such adoration in his eyes that it was almost hard to look back at him.
“I love you, Daddy.”
He winked. “Love you, too, baby girl. Now, go knock him dead.”
I snickered and turned to see that the doors were now all the way open, and Ezekiel was standing at the end of the aisle, dressed up in a goddamn tux that was made for him.
I waved at him, causing him to chuckle.
“I think he likes my dress,” I told my dad.
And then we started walking.
I made it about three feet before I realized that there was just no way that I was going to be able to make it without some sort of help.
I looked over at the first man I saw, Liner, and said, “Do you think you can pick my train up and help me walk?”
Liner, who was dressed in a dark pair of blue jeans, a button-down black shirt, and a ball cap, stood up and immediately grabbed my train.
The moment that the weight was lifted, I picked up speed.
And when I finally made it to my husband, it was to see him smiling so wide I could see almost every single tooth on the top row.
“You’re trying not to laugh at me, aren’t you?” I accused, mock glaring at him.
He shook his head, the smile dimming down to a more manageable level.
“No,” he said. “I’m just glad that you finally made it.”
***
6 months later
“That’s it?” I asked carefully.
The doctor smiled. “That’s it. Now we have to wait and see if the procedure took.”
I.e., if I was actually pregnant.
I looked over at Zee, who was busy reading a stack of reports.
There’d been a slew of murders that the sheriff’s department, Bear Bottom Police Department, and a few other law enforcement agencies had been working on that had almost kept him from coming today.
Though, Zee would never allow me to go through anything on my own. Not if he could help it.
He looked up right then from his report and smiled.
I may not have had his full attention throughout the entire thing, but I had enough that I could tell he was excited.
I was, too.
I just hoped it worked.
If there was one thing on this earth that I wanted more than my husband, it was to carry his babies.EpilogueIf repeating the same sentence twelve times and having your husband say ‘you never said that’ sounds like fun, then marriage is for you.
-Text from Jubilee to Turner
Jubilee
5 years later
“Mom, can you open this,” my daughter, Aggie, asked.
Aggie wasn’t her real name. Her real name was Agnes after Zee’s grandmother. However, a little over a month ago she’d requested to be called Aggie, and not seeing the harm in it for just our role-playing game where she forced me to drink fake tea, I’d messed up.
Because now, she was still going by Aggie or she wasn’t answering at all, and I was forced to do her bidding, or she’d refuse to do what I asked.
