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35
MIRANDA
I felt like I’d fallen into a parallel universe. The chapel’s faux gothic vibe and the Andy Warhol impersonator added to the eccentricity of the moment.
The ring sat in my palm. It felt cold but quickly warmed on my skin. Enchanted by its beauty, I slid the ring onto my finger, and it fit.
“Oh my god. It’s perfect.”
“It sure is,” Lachlan said. “And it suits that dress.”
“Doesn’t it? And you weren’t there to help me choose the color.”
“There. You see? We’re in synch. A sure sign.” His eyes twinkled with warmth and belief in us.
I choked up. As we held each other’s gazes, I fell into his magic blue orbs like Alice through the looking glass. Only instead of a mad cast, I was met with the promise of sharing my life with Lachlan. Although something told me that we were about to embark on an adventure. As long as he was there, I was prepared for anything, even drugged-out mice or men with a predilection for crazy hats.
“Ask me again,” I said.
He got down on his knee and placed his hand on his heart. I laughed at how cliched that was, but it was really sweet.
“Will you be my wife?” he asked.
“Yes.”
Music came on, and we both broke into laughter.
Lou Reed started singing about it being such a perfect day.
“Oh, I love this song,” I said.
“I chose it from the list that came with Andy Warhol.” Lachlan’s cute, boyish smile made me want to pinch his cheek.
“They got that connection so right. Lou Reed set up Velvet Underground. They were part of Warhol’s Factory,” I said with excitement. “I did my thesis on the sixties New York art scene. How did you guess?”
He held his arms wide. “It wasn’t much of a stretch. Contemporary art’s your thing.”
I fell into his arms. “Thank you.”
“Thank you. For accepting me.”
I kept it to myself, but I’d decided to say yes within a second. How could I not?
“There’s something that I haven’t told you yet, though.” He paused as we headed to the altar.
My breath hitched. More surprises? I’d had enough to last a lifetime.
“Manuel’s with me. He’s going to be part of my family.”
Compassion and love shone from his face, and my heart grew. “I’m totally cool with that. He’s a great boy.”
“Then we’re good?” he asked.
I took his hand. “We sure are. Let’s go and hang out with Andy.”
While we struggled to hear the mock priest, who mumbled and mangled words from his script, someone turned up and asked if we wanted it filmed.
Thrilled at the prospect of having a memento of the eccentric and momentous occasion, I nodded enthusiastically.
