Frankly, I’d rather they all stay at home instead of paying lip service to a ceremony between Mateo and I, but it is what it is and I have to deal with it. Luckily, Josh has been a great barrier between us, as he always has been, heading off my mom’s nit-picking and my sister’s criticisms before they can really get to me.
Then there’s the whole media circus, something most ordinary people don’t have to deal with at their fucking wedding. But Mateo isn’t exactly ordinary. Even though he’s the coach for Madrid’s football (soccer) team, Atletico Madrid, he used to be their star player and the media still treats him as such. Doesn’t help that his ex-wife is related to Spanish royalty.
That’s the one good thing about this whole set-up so far. Even though his ex, Isabel, was invited, she declined to come. I know the cameras waiting outside were hoping she would be here and cause some drama, as her appearance often does, but at least we have that going for us.
“You might need a touch up,” Gemma says, leaning across the vanity table and handing me my lipstick and some blotting paper. The hair and makeup person had left twenty-minutes ago and my hair is already dropping and I think my makeup is sweating off. It’s July and hot as hell here. Gemma has been doing her best to help revive the curls of my half up, half down hairdo, but she’s not exactly a girly girl and I can tell she can only do her best. At least my dress is holding together and I haven’t spilled anything on it.
Yet.
My wedding dress is pretty much an exact copy of Gwen Stefani’s back when she married Gavin Rosdale, right down to the bright magenta hem and ombre look. I tried hard for a few months trying to lose weight before the wedding but my body just wasn’t having it. I prefer to leisurely stroll through the chaotic streets of Madrid instead of jogging through them, I prefer to eat heaps of paella and patatas bravas and drink garnacha instead of salads and sparkling water.
And it doesn’t help to have a man who loves you exactly the way you are. I mean it does, but it’s not like he’s telling me to lose weight and so it’s easier to just stay as I am since he loves me as I am. Yeah, maybe my boobs are more on display in this dress than skinny minnie Gwen and maybe my tattoos stand out in stark contrast to the lovely layers of bright white silk, but Mateo doesn’t care.
At least I know he won’t. He hasn’t seen me in the dress yet, let alone seen the dress at all, but he’s always been a fan of my curves and I know he’s going to love this look. That’s what it’s all about anyway, me for him and him for me.
A squeal breaks through my thoughts as I pat the blotting paper on my forehead and my friend Claudia enters the room. Just like Gemma, she’s dressed in her magenta satin bridesmaid dress, strapless and simple (and matching the hem of my dress).
“You look so beautiful,” Claudia says in her heavily accented voice, standing behind me and gazing at my reflection in the mirror in such a sappy way that I’m afraid she’s going to start crying, which would be totally unlike her.
“Hold it together,” I warn her. “The last thing I need to do is cry and ruin my makeup even further.”
She nods quickly, blinking fast and sniffing. “Si, si,” she says. “I’m okay.” She pauses, looking wistful. “It’s just so…emotional. Being here of all places. Where it started.”
For a long time I thought the wedding was going to be held in Madrid. We certainly weren’t going to get married in Vancouver. Spain is my real home now, where my friends live. Even Josh and Gemma have temporarily moved to Madrid for three months where I’ve been given a chance to get to know Gemma better (and completely fall in love with her ballsy attitude).
But even though we love the city, it just didn’t feel right for our wedding. The two of us had overcome so much in our relationship, from ex-wives and messy divorces to dealing with his young daughter Chloe Ann, to long-distance relationships, to me nearly getting deported, to the media’s obsession with us, that we felt we needed a space that was truly special.
We found it. We didn’t have to look far.
We’re having the wedding at Las Palabras, the English-immersion program that we first met at nearly three years ago. This is where I realized Mateo was my sun, moon and stars, this is where we fought against the odds and fell in love, having a siesta underneath a tree.
Luckily the company – which I briefly worked for – let us take over for the weekend at a discount. The actual ceremony is set-up on the grassy area along a stone wall, while the reception and dinner is in the main hall. Because Las Palabras is located in Acantilado, a tiny village with barely any places to stay, most of the guests are staying here in one of the many rooms of Las Palabras. I stayed here last night, sharing a room with Claudia, and it brought me back to our days in the program.
After the reception though, Mateo and I are heading to the nearby city of Salamanca for the night before flying to the Canary Islands for some much needed R and R. I never thought I would be one to care much about my own wedding but with it being here at Las Palabras and having so many different friends and family from all over visiting, I’ve really become invested in it, from the smallest details of what
