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“That’s a very good point,” Josh concedes. He raises his drink, once again. “To the fairytale!”
Everyone clinks and drinks to that happy toast, and then each couple cuddles up at the railing and beholds the glittering view while Josh identifies various landmarks beneath us, since he’s been to Paris many times.
“Where’s the restaurant we’ll be dining at tonight?” Kat asks.
“Over there somewhere,” Josh replies, indicating. “Trust me, this place is going to blow you away.”
Henn nudges me. “Remember the fancy restaurant Josh took us to in Vegas? Apparently, that place is a truck-stop diner—a Wendy’s—compared to the place we’re going tonight.”
“Wow.” I look down at my outfit. “Am I dressed fancy enough for a place like that?”
“Actually, no,” Henn says. “But never fear because our fairy godmother has brought both of us some dapper duds to change into.”
Kat gestures like she’s waving a magic wand. “Bibbity bobbity boo!”
I thank Kat and throw myself into Henn’s waiting arms—and as we’re in our latest clinch, another round of glorious sparkles erupts above our heads.
“Wow!” Kat gasps out, her blonde head tilted back in awe. “It looks like a giant champagne bottle being popped!”
“That’s exactly what I said!”
Our trusty photographer appears and snaps several shots of our foursome. Until, finally, Josh says it’s time to head to the hotel to change clothes before going back out to the fancy restaurant in time for our reservation.
Henn grabs my hand, and we head into an elevator with Josh and Kat and an attendant. As we descend, Kat and I gush over my ring. And then, my little-birdie-in-a-birdhouse necklace. When we reach the ground floor, we start walking across the bustling plaza toward the car and driver Josh and Kat have arranged for all of us. When we’re far enough away that the Tower would fit in its entirety into the background of a photo, however, we stop to snap a group shot, after enlisting the help of a passing tourist.
Midway through our photo session, I turn to look at my new fiancé, my future husband, and discover he’s already gazing at me like I’m the great love of his life. When our eyes meet, I smile and say, “I’m so happy. I love you so much, Henny.”
“I love you, too,” he whispers. “Man, I can’t wait to be your husband.”
50
HENN
“Go Hennah! Go Hennah!”
That’s what everyone on the dance floor is chanting, as my new wife and I dance in the center of the circle like silverback gorillas, each of us enthusiastically defending our territory. We’re deep into our rowdy wedding reception at Reed’s sprawling mansion. Our traditional first dance, the one where Hannah and I looked picture perfect and photo ready, is long over now. At this point in the night, Hannah’s meticulously applied makeup has mostly melted off and the up-do she started the festivities with has mostly fallen down. For my part, my tuxedo jacket is off, my bowtie untied, and my hair askew. We’re celebrating hard. As my closing move in the center of the circle, I dip and kiss my new wife, soliciting a squeal from her and cheers from our dancing onlookers, before leading her to the perimeter of the circle to let another couple take center stage.
As Hannah and I merge with the gyrating crowd, Keane pulls Maddy into the center, where he proceeds to dance around his blushing fiancée like she’s his own personal stripper pole. As odd a pairing as these two seemed at first, it’s now clear to everyone they’re perfect for each other. A few months ago, Hannah told Kat in my presence she couldn’t have customized a better boyfriend for her sister, even if some kind of build-a-boyfriend service existed online, and Kat replied that her family feels the same way about Maddy. “In fact,” Kat said to Hannah at the time, “if those two don’t work out, I’m positive we’d all unanimously vote to keep Maddy in the Morgan family and kick Keane the hell out.”
As Keane and Maddy depart the circle, Ryan and his wife enter and set the place on fire with their white-hot moves. In the end, Ryan not only found his Samantha; he married her, too. And then achieved a much-desired positive result on a pregnancy test in record time. The first of many, they hope, according to what Kat told Hannah on the downlow.
As Ryan and his wife leave the circle, they tag Colby and his wife, Lydia, but not surprisingly, Kat’s quiet oldest brother shakes his head and refuses to take the spotlight. As I recall, it’s the same thing Colby did in Maui during a luau, when, toward the end of the show, the performers invited audience members to join them onstage and shake their booties in grass skirts. A group of extroverts that included me bounded to the stage to perform a silly dance-off. But when I passed Colby on my way to the stage, he was practically gripping his chair with white knuckles, steeling himself against anyone who dared try to drag him up there.
