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“Stop,” Cami insists. “No crying until after the photos, then you emotional trainwrecks can sniffle all you want.”
My mom laughs. “Thank goodness for Cami. I’m glad someone’s keeping us from ruining the pictures. Pictures are the best part of a wedding day.”
Bear glances my way, silently saying—No, promising to love you for the rest of my life is the best part of the wedding day.
Aloud I whisper, “Absolutely.”
And then we’re at the screening area and setting all our unusual items on the belt—wedding bouquets and Cami’s camera equipment and a bag full of favors for our guests. Bear had our suitcases sent to the honeymoon suite already, so we’re blissfully unencumbered as we head through the X-ray machines.
Chuck, with Gavin now on his leash, joins us when we’re cleared, and we start toward the venue, an isolated part of the international terminal with beautiful light that’s not far from the hotel.
Our procession attracts its fair share of attention—four gorgeous men in tuxedos, a woman in a wedding dress, and a baby gator in his ring-bearer getup will do that—and by the time the rows of white seats come into view, we’ve attracted a following. Waving to the friends and family already gathered for the ceremony—including Nora and my cousin, Matty, who have become one of our best couple friends—we head to Cami’s scouted location for a pre-ceremony photoshoot.
Complete strangers snap our picture behind Cami as Bear and I pose by a striking art installation made of thousands of melted marbles.
“See,” Bear says, smiling down at me with his arm braced on the wall above my head. “You’re famous.”
I roll my eyes. “I am not. I’m sure none of these people know who I am.”
“Sure, they do,” he says. “You’re Rosie, Chicago’s ‘Find the Fun’ reporter and national treasure.”
I giggle and Cami calls out, “Yes, just like that!” She clicks a few more shots. “Keep looking at each other and smiling. The light is perfect.”
“I don’t think I’ve reached national treasure status just yet,” I say, tipping my chin up.
“Only a matter of time,” Bear says, proving he’s my biggest fan.
I’m so grateful. Without his gentle pushing for me to get real about what I want from my career, it probably would have taken me a lot longer to realize I don’t want to be a hard-hitting journalist. I want to bring joy and fun into people’s lives. I want to give them the kind of news that makes a day easier, not sadder, or scarier.
I’ve embraced my fluff piece destiny, and I’m having an amazing time—and making quite a bit more money, since I landed my new gig at Chicago Channel Seven six months ago.
Life is so good and about to get even better.
“I’m going to marry you so hard,” I whisper as Bear leans down for a kiss.
“So hard,” he echoes just before his lips meet mine.
A collective sigh of happiness rises from the small crowd gathered behind Cami, and I suddenly have a wild idea. When Bear pulls back, I ask, “Should we invite the strangers to the wedding?”
“We absolutely should,” he says. “That’s how you grow an airport family.”
And so, we invite twenty-three strangers to witness our “I do’s.” Missy’s mom proves she’s the wedding planner with this mostest by finding more chairs at the last minute, and the ceremony goes off with a hitch. Bear and I both cry, but thanks to Cami’s quick make-up intervention, I’m tidied up for the reception in just a few minutes.
We start back through the terminal hand-in-hand, Mr. and Mrs. Hanson at last.
At the reception, Matty and Nora surprise us with the sweetest toast and a framed picture of Clyde and Hambone’s other two kittens—Sunshine and Rainn—dressed in tiny formal clothes. We eat an amazing surf and turf dinner, dance until midnight, and take tons of pictures with Gavin perched in the Christmas tree above us like a grinning gator angel. (Our reptilian buddy may be a year older, but he still loves being where the action is.)
Slowly, one by one, our guests head to their rooms, until it’s just me, Bear, and the waitstaff tasked with clearing the last of the party.
We sway together to the holiday music playing over the sound system, neither of us wanting the night to end. It’s just been so…perfect.
I look up at my sexy husband, heart aching with happiness as I whisper, “There’s only one way this night could get any better.”
“You, me, bed?” he asks.
