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Nor will I say a word to Elle about Neve ditching the aisle to freestyle it, doing a full loop of the living room before jumping off the couch and throwing a handful of petals in the air.
Normally, I wouldn’t allow that, but today, anything goes. Besides, her performance is appreciated, with both Billy and Harper breaking into applause when she finishes, bows, and goes to sit with her father.
“That’s your daughter,” I murmur out the side of my mouth, and Elle snorts. The music changes, and all other thoughts disappear as Tiffany appears from the hallway, and then she’s all I can see, all I can think about.
She’s glorious in her wedding dress. I’m sure she can tell you all the details about it, but all I see are a white dream and Tiffany’s beaming face.
She’s on her father’s arm. He smiles nervously, and I suspect it’s because he’s realizing how real this marriage is. He seems accepting of me and Tiffany, doing the usual ‘dad talk’ with me earlier, but it was more a formality.
“You gonna take care of my girl?”
“Yes.”
“All right then, don’t fuck it up and don’t hurt her. She gets her crazy streak from me.”
That last part was said with a completely straight face, though I suspect he’s wrong. That streak is pure Renee.
Her dad walks her toward me, but before he releases her hand, he leans over to ask, “You sure about this one?”
He flashes a kind smile my way, and I get it. If Elle had looked the least bit uncertain when she married Colton, I would’ve swept her out of there so fast her head would’ve spun. But Tiffany smiles and gives her father a kiss on the cheek. “Yeah, Dad. I’m sure.”
Her father shakes his head, laughing softly. “I was asking him, not you.”
“Surer than I’ve ever been in my life,” I say solemnly, looking at Tiffany in awe.
“Well, vaya con Dios,” her father says. “She’s your problem now.”
We all get a little laugh from his joke, even if he is near tears as he releases his daughter’s hand and sits down next to Renee. She hands him a tissue, which he grabs from her with a huff.
“Well then,” Elle says, clearing her throat and stopping the music, “friends and family, we’re gathered here today to witness the marriage of Daniel Bernard Stryker and Tiffany Laura Young. Now, before we get down to business, does anyone here object to these two getting married? If so, speak now so Billy can throw you off the balcony. No? Good.”
Only my daughter could come up with a wedding ceremony like this one.
“Many people end up in front of a minister in the same way. They meet, date, fall in love, and bam-o, blam-o, marriage is the next step,” Elle says, starting her comments, “but it isn’t always like that. I’ve known both of these people for most of my life, and as I’ve looked back over the past week or so, I realize that every step they’ve taken has brought them closer and closer to this point. Today is only an affirmation of what I know, we all know, but most importantly, they know, deep in their hearts. Their love binds them, deep and strong, something we are thankful to be able to witness. So . . . the rings. Colton, I believe that was your job?”
“My job?” Colton squawks. “My job was getting Neve here. The rings were Ricky’s job!”
“Nuh-uh. It was Billy’s job!”
“I thought Kevin was the ringbearer.”
“Kevin does flowers, not rings!”
“Well, if we don’t have rings, what are we going to do?”
“This . . . had better be part of the script,” I grumble, “or you’re about to get married with a napkin ring around your finger.”
Tiffany laughs. “That would be fine with me as long as it’s from you.”
“Come on, guys, who’s got the rings?”
Neve raises her hand. “Mummy?”
"Hold on, honey. Mummy’s having a freak out right now,” Elle tells her.
Neve stands up on her chair, waving her arm around, and a sneaking suspicion starts in my gut. “Neve, do you know where the rings are?” I ask, and she nods wildly.
“Mummy,” she says, pointing at Elle.
I look back to Elle, who suddenly flushes. “Oh, shit, I have the rings. It’s my job.” She laughs at her own forgetfulness, pulling the rings from her back pocket.
Colton helps Neve sit down, whispering, “Good job. We have to watch out for Mummy, don’t we? She’s forgetful sometimes.”
Colton taps Neve on the head, and she copies him, tapping his head.
“Since we now have rings, we can continue,” Elle intones seriously, as if she didn’t cause the drama herself. “You wrote your own vows. So, Dad, I’ll turn it over to you.”
I turn to Tiffany and take her hands, looking into her beautiful eyes. We kept our vows secret from each other, and I hope she feels what I’m trying to express.
