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Becca raises me an eyebrow. “What’s the interval between them?”
I pause to take in the blow before replying “It’s not contractions, Miss Nurse! I’m only seven months in! And those would be in the front, no?”
“Not always!” she corrects, raising her index finger.
“Oh, just find me a chair!” I shoo her away.
Not even ten seconds later, two salon assistants are by my side, one with a chair and the other with a glass of ice-cold water, fitted with a straw so as not to ruin my lipstick.
“No, no water…” I decline the offer. “Or all I will have my mind on during the ceremony is holding my pee!”
I look at the big clock on the wall. It’s 9:45 AM. “Hey, how late are we going to be?” I ask and I’m received with laughter.
“Elsa is the only bride who wants to be on time!” Kiera says as she finishes getting her nails done.
“My mom just told me thata bride is never late, she arrives when she needs to arrive,” Bree says.
“Wise words!” I say. “How long are you going to leave Pinchon waiting?”
The woman just giggles like a maniac and lets the subject go.
Mom gets on the phone. It’s my father, asking where we are.
“Alright, ladies. It’s time to go!” She waves both of her arms in the air, and one by one the women start getting ready to leave the building.
The church is not far away. It’s the same church where Kiera got married, the same one where their older brother got married, and the same one where their parents got married, thus keeping with the family tradition, and making Harvey’s folks happy.
The cars outside are all lined up, ready to leave in perfect order for the nuptial procession. Mine goes at the end, a custom 1920s Oldsmobile that I have all for myself — thank goodness, because there isn’t much space inside, and I’ll have to share it with Harvey until the reception.
My nervousness only grows as we approach the quaint small-town square where the church is located. Every time the car inches closer, my heart rate increases a bit, and oh! There it goes again. That same ache one more time.
Finally, we’re at the church’s door, and everybody is waiting with excitement for me to come out. I take a deep breath and then step out as a powerful woman, owner of my choices and mistress of my fate.
I pose for the photographer and the video camera, while dad assembles the procession. It’s adorable. All of a sudden, my dad is acting like a wedding organizer.
In the end, he comes to me, takes me by the arm, and with a grin from ear to ear lets out a “My baby! She snatched a billionaire!”
That gets me laughing non-stop until we start to walk.
We climb up the steps, one by one. My heart skips a beat at every step we take to get closer. When I finally feel the warm heat coming from inside the church, it’s the point of no return — you’re getting married, Elsa, there’s no turning back.
The Nuptial March starts to play, expertly by the hands of a string quartet and an organist. Dad looks straight ahead, still grinning like a fool, and the only face I want to see is right there, with an even bigger grin.
This aisle seems infinite, but we eventually get to the end. “Take good care of her, son,” my father warns Harvey upon handing me to him.
“I will, sir. I promise!” Harvey says, and as bride and groom, we position ourselves in front of the priest.
When it’s time for our vows, I take a deep breath as I go first.
“Harvey,” I say, and then look into his blue eyes. I’m surprised to see them tearing up, which make mine tear up even more.
Sniffling a bit, I continue, “You were there for me when I thought I was alone. You helped me embrace my true self, even when the world expected different. You are genuine, unique, and have a perspective of life that few have, and for all these things, and many more, I love you with my whole heart and soul.”
Roaring applause from the guests, and I look at them, blushing. Then, I look at Harvey, looking forward to hearing his vows.
He takes the microphone, then brings out his vows from inside his jacket.
“I’ll have to apologize to everyone because I’m not as eloquent with words as my lovely bride.”
