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“And you Padraig,” the minister says to me. “Will you take Valerie to be your wife, love, honor and cherish her now and forevermore. Do you promise to always stand by her side, in sickness and in health, and keep saying yes to new adventures?”
I’m grinning like a bloody eejit. “Yes. Yes, I do. I do.”
Valerie practically jumps, she’s so excited and giddy. The feeling is mutual.
With trembling hands I take the ring from the minister as he says, “Repeat after me, with this ring, I thee wed.”
“With this ring, I thee wed,” I say and slip the ring over her finger, snug against her engagement ring. There it is. A symbol of us and our love right beside a symbol of my mother and father’s love.
They don’t fit flush but they are close enough.
“Padraig and Valerie,” the minister announces to us joyously. “May you live happily ever after. By the power vested in me by our saviour, the Lord Jesus Christ and the Republic of Ireland, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may now kiss the bride.”
My smile is frozen on my face. I don’t think I’ll ever stop feeling this way.
We did it.
We said yes.
I grab her face in my hands and kiss her fiercely. I kiss her with all I have, to the point where I might be messing up her hairdo but I don’t care.
She smiles against my lips and whispers, “I love you, Padraig.”
“I love ye, Valerie,” I tell her, pulling back and taking my first real look at her as my wife.
This is the life I’d always wanted.
I grab onto her hand, give it a squeeze and then we walk down the aisle, everyone on their feet and throwing white confetti into the air so it falls down around us like snow, much like the first night we met.
VALERIE
“I want to pose with the owl next,” Sandra whines, as we sit on the low stone wall in the front of the B&B, watching as Hooter McGavin perches on Padraig’s arm, white gauntlet and all, with Hemi, Alistair and the Major gathered around him. It’s quite the dashing scene and I’m starting to think Hooter is getting more attention at this wedding than Padraig and I are.
“No,” Angie says, sipping from her glass of champagne and pointing it at Hemi. “You want to pose with that Jason Momoa wannabe.”
“He’s not a wannabe,” Sandra hisses at her, smacking Angie on the arm and causing her champagne to splash out of the glass. “He’s just perfect. And I don’t want to pose with him. I want to climb him like a fucking tree.”
“You’ll get your chance soon enough when the bridal parties get their photos together,” I tell her, taking a sip of my champagne. “And anyway, I thought you were dating that actor.”
“What actor?” she frowns.
“I don’t know. The one from your show.”
“You watch my show?”
I shrug. “When I’m bored.” But I’m smiling.
Sandra is moving up in the world. Her character was written off her other show and now she has a big part in an HBO comedy series as a moody teenager, which is funny since Sandra is in her mid-twenties. She died her hair back to dark brown to get the part and it worked.
“No, we aren’t dating,” she says with an aggravated sigh. “You know, men in the film business are assholes.”
“We just call them arseholes over here,” I say.
“Okay,” the photographer calls out to us. “Let’s get some pictures of the bridal party with the owl.”
“Yes!” Sandra says, jumping to her feet, her blue strapless dress billowing behind her as she goes over to Padraig and the groomsmen.
Angie rolls her eyes and gets up. “This bird better not shit on me.”
“Owl shit is good luck in Ireland,” I tell her.
“You’re joking,” she says to me after a moment.
I shrug and laugh. “I don’t know, it feels like everything is good luck here.”
She pauses and gives me a proud look. “You’ve come a long way, Val. I’m not surprised that things are only going to get better for you. You know you deserve it, don’t you?”
I nod. “I know.”
She then looks over to our parents who are walking down the driveway toward us, my mom holding onto Tabitha’s hand. She was our flower girl at the start of the ceremony.
Angie adds, “No matter what they say, remember to believe that.” Then she goes to grab Tabitha’s hand and join the photoshoot where her daughter is immediately enchanted by the owl.
I smile at my parents as they approach. My mother has been on her best behaviour, though I’m not sure how long that will last, but my father has been keeping her in line and so far she’s stayed away from the champagne, which helps.
“When is it our turn?” my father says, sounding a lot like Sandra did earlier. “You know, it’s so rare that I get dressed up like this anymore. I want the photos to catch me in my prime.”
“Oh, you are far beyond your prime, dear,” my mother says to him.
But my father just laughs. “If that’s true, what does that make you?”
She rolls her eyes and gives me a sweet smile. “It was a beautiful ceremony dear. I couldn’t help but cry. Everyone was saying how beautiful you look.” I pause, waiting for her to contradict them. “And they were right. I’ve never seen you look so beautiful, so happy. And that dress fits you like a dream.”
“Thank you,” I say, getting teary-eyed at the compliment. “I am happy.”
“I know,” she says. Then she frowns. “But then that owl came out and gave me such a fright. You know those things carry diseases right? They eat vermin.”
“The owl has a clean bill of health,” I assure her, just as Padraig walks over and gestures to the photoshoot. Sandra has the gauntlet on and is posing with Hemi and Hooter McGavin.
“They need the parents,” Padraig says. “I’ll go get Nan.”
“I’m right here, for feck’s sake,” Agnes says, appearing before us and dressed like the Queen of England, complete with pink pillbox hat. “I’ve been here the whole time, what’s wrong with ye?”
“You look so marvelous,” my mother says to her sweetly.
Agnes frowns at her. “I know I do.”
Padraig comes to me and kisses me on the cheek and takes my hand. “Come on.” He leads me across the lawn where we take pictures with everyone until Hooter has decided he’s had enough and lands on Agnes’s hat where he refuses to leave. She has to walk with him on her like that all the way to the mews to put him away.
By the time the sun is setting and dinner has been served and the reception is in full-swing, with everyone is drunk and happy and dancing, the magic of the evening is finally settling in.
I’m married.
I can’t believe it.
“Is this wedding everything you thought it would be?” Padraig murmurs into my ear as we sway to the music, slow dancing.
“Yes,” I tell him. I pull back and smile up at his handsome face. My husband. “It was everything and more. The wedding I dreamed of when I was a kid, complete with the owl.”
“Really?”
I shrug. “I was a big fan of the movie Labyrinth and I’d often pretend I was going to marry the Goblin King, who was part owl.”
“Big Bowie fan, huh.”
“No, just a fan of the bad boy,” I tell him. “Until I realized what I really needed was a good man. Just like you.”
The song then changes to Sinead O’ Connor’s “Nothing Compares To You.” It’s Sandra’s favorite song. Like, growing up, she was obsessed with it and often threatened my mother by saying she wanted to shave her head like Sinead. I automatically look through the crowd for her and spot her talking with Angie, clapping her hands together excitedly.
Then Angie points to Hemi and says something to Sandra. Sandra nods, throws her shoulders back and her tits out and marches across the floor to where Hemi is standing with his teammates. Next thing you know, the two of them are heading onto the dancefloor.
“She sure works fast,” Padraig says with a chuckle, watching the scene along with me.
“She knows what she wants and I don’t think poor Hemi is going to have a say in it,” I laugh.
“Judging from the way he’s holding her, I really don’t think the bugger minds.” He nods at them and I notice Hemi’s grip is very tight around her and very close to her ass.
I smirk. “Well, I’m placing bets on those two. Thank god they aren’t staying here tonight, I’m sure we’d find them screwing all over the place.”
“Speaking of screwing,” Padraig says with a cheeky grin. “I’ve been telling my cock to behave from the moment I saw ye in that dress. Don’t think I can control him anymore.”
He presses his very large, hard erection against me, practically grinding it against my dress.
A flush of heat simultaneously flares up on my cheeks and between my legs.
“You tease,” I tell him, pressing my body back against his.
“Not teasing, darlin’,” he whispers into my ear. “I just want to get my cock inside ye as your husband. I want to fuck my wife for the first time and I want to fuck her good.”
Oh, sweet Jesus, am I ever turned on right now. We haven’t had sex for a few days because of the wedding and the stress of it all but now I can hardly contain myself. His words stroked my desire from embers into flames.
His hands slip down over my ass, giving it a hefty squeeze.
“Padraig,” I chide him but I’m giggling. “My parents probably saw that.”
He looks up over my shoulder. “No, your father is dancing with Angie and your mother is dancing with the Major. And us, well, I think we need to quit dancing and find a quiet place where I can make you scream my name.”
I gulp. Okay. This is totally happening.
“What do ye say?” he asks, pulling back to look at me with so much love and lust and want in his eyes.
