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Kidnapping the bride was apparently a custom out of Viking lore. Runólf and Geir had tried to convince me that it was an important Icelandic wedding tradition, but I’d Googled it on my phone and called them on their bullshit.
We snuck a quick kiss and split up for some family time.
As I approached, Grandma waved me over to the table. Marie had a three-quarters of an empty four pack of Bartles and James fuzzy navel on the table in front of her.
“Where did you get those?” I pointed to the bottles.
She swallowed the drink she’d just taken from wine cooler number four and said, “Chad went out and got these. They didn’t have Mike’s or Smirnoff Ice or anything at the bar.”
“We’ve got Boone’s Farm, too,” Grandma said, pulling a plastic shopping bag from beneath the table. “You want some?”
“Hell, yes, I want some. You got Snow Creek Berry?”
She handed me a bottle of the stuff—it looked like a pink version of Windex—and I unscrewed the top.
“So,” Grandma began, and I could tell she was unhappy with something. “What’s this about you’re not having a dollar dance?”
I nodded as I raised the bottle. “You heard correctly. We are not going to do a dollar dance.”
“Why not?” She spread her hands, the sleeves of her royal blue chiffon tunic nearly catching on her water glass. “People like dollar dances. They get to feel like they’re helping you get a good start on life.”
Grandma was missing the obvious. I took a deep swallow of the “wine”. “Grandma, Neil and I have almost seven billion dollars. We can afford a new coffee maker.”
“Well, I gave you fifty-dollars, anyway.” She rummaged through her purse for a card. “I didn’t put it in the box because it’s cash, and you never know with people.”
I stooped down and hugged her, and slipped the slender rectangular envelope into the band of my strapless bra. “Thanks, Grandma.”
Everyone partied for a while. I did a little drinking, but I cut myself off before I got super drunk—no one wants to see the bride vomit. I took selfies on the dance floor with Holli and Deja. I tried to act cool in front of my friends whenever a legitimately famous person drifted into view—Neil had tons of celebrity work friends we’d had to invite, despite barely knowing any of them. I’d been hoping Prince Harry would crash again, like he had at Neil’s fiftieth, but to Penny’s disappointment, his royal hotness did not appear.
I managed to get a few more dances with my wonderful husband, fitting him in around requests from Rudy and Ian and Michael.
“So, I’m thinking of calling you Mother Elwood now,” Michael said, playfully spinning me under his arm.
“I think you’ll regret that,” I warned. Then, I stubbed my toes against his shoe. “Just like I’m regretting that. Ouch.”
“I’m not going to tell Emma that happened,” he swore. “She’s already deemed your shoes too ridiculous to wear.”
Okay, Emma may have had a point. My strappy black Fendi stilettos with Swarovski crystal embellishments were hot, but they had a four-and-a-half-inch heel. I should have considered optional flats.
The night passed in a rush; I guess time really does fly when you’re having fun. At midnight, like Cinderella, Neil and I made our getaway. The reception would continue into the night for our guests, but we had a plane to catch. I’d changed into a floaty gold silk maxi dress with spaghetti straps that would be comfortable for travel and light and breezy when we arrived in Papeete. We dashed through a crowd of our remaining guests beneath the Baccarat chandeliers in the lobby. My mom caught me for a hug, and Rudy halted us again to kiss both of us on the cheek. Outside, on the steps of the grand entrance, my single friends waited. I tossed my bouquet to them as we hurried to our escape vehicle.
“They’ve decorated the car,” Neil observed through his tightly clenched smile.
“Yup.” I waved to my mom and my aunt Marie, who’d come outside to see our reaction. They looked pleased with themselves for helping.
Neil held the door for me, saying low beside my ear, “They put chalk paint and soda cans on the back of my Maybach.”
I caught Tony’s eye as he closed my door, and he smirked. He’d watched the whole thing happen, and he’d let it. I laughed, and then, I couldn’t stop laughing. My heart bubbled over with a sudden surge of effervescent happiness, and I choked back tears of joy. I blinked and composed myself to smile at our guests as Neil got in beside me.
As we pulled away to the sounds of our cheering friends and family, I turned to Neil. “Wow. So…that was fun.”
“And exhausting.” He leaned against the corner of the door and the seat and slumped down.
“I know. I can’t wait to get these shoes off.” My chest hurt; I was happy to bursting. “At least we’ll be able to sleep on the plane.”
Well, I hoped we’d be able to do more than sleep on the plane. It was our wedding night, after all. I read enough historical romances in high school to know that I was supposed to be ravished tonight.
“About that.” Neil sat up and coughed into his fist. “You stayed reasonably sober, didn’t you?”
