“You ready to throw away the key?” he smirks.
“You’re next, buddy.”
He sobers up. “Not me.”
“Yeah…that’s what I said.”
The music starts and Mott leads Emma down the aisle. Tony guides Charlie up next. Behind them, waiting, is Eleanor and my brother. I ignored Ethan’s demands to walk his wife down because the Best Man and the Maid of Honor come down together. I didn’t want to jinx my future because he’s in love, but now that I’m watching the odd pairing, and seeing Dion puffing up in his chair, alone, it’s pretty comical.
“I know why you’re laughing,” Ethan grumbles as he comes to stand at my side, hands clasped in front of his crotch.
“Because you look stupid in a penguin-suit?”
“Har har.”
The pianist, a friend of Uncle Jason’s, pauses before starting the song I’ve been waiting for. Everyone stands and twists to see Wren standing with her father, a quiet man with laughing eyes, at the far end of an aisle covered in red rose petals. Had to represent my team, but we stayed away from black, both of us, just for this one day.
I swallow and straighten up, smoothing my tux-jacket as I whisper, “Wow.”
My brother whispers, back, “You’ll remember this forever.”
“I believe you.”
She and John slowly make their way here as everyone gazes with admiration for her smile, her dress, the curls in her hair and the way it’s pulled back under a veil that falls to her breasts, modestly covered but propped up by a corset. I’m a fan of it all, especially of the soul inside the package.
John holds my eyes, tips his head and hands her off to me, but his grip lingers for a second, and that tiny show of love is what makes Wren’s eyes turn liquid.
She hugs him and I hear her whisper, “I love you, Daddy.” He embraces her, closing his eyes and nodding. Sometimes that’s the best a man can do.
And it’s enough.
I offer my hand, forever, and the moment our skin touches I take a deep breath and realize I’d been holding it. She smiles at me and I shake my head, “You’re beautiful.”
Max conducts the ceremony with the respect I knew he’d give it, despite his snarky comment. When we get to the vows he pauses and motions for me to go ahead.
Wren and I lock eyes and the audience disappears. “Wren, since I met you I’ve become a better man. You bring out the good in me. I laugh more. I try harder. I’m me…but better. I vow from today on to be your best friend. To love you. Take care of and protect you. If you ever get Poison Ivy again I’m ready with the chamomile bathwater.”
Laughter from our family and friends, but I don’t break. I meant that as a metaphor for any illness that ever comes our way.
“From here on out I’m yours and you’re mine. Nothing can come between us. Being your husband will make me the happiest man I’ve ever been and you’ve ever seen. I love you.”
A tear drifts down her cheek under the veil and she closes her eyes a second, struggling to overcome the lump in her throat. I know it’s there, because I have one, too.
“Eric, my everything, sometimes when I wake up I’m afraid you won’t be there. Only because it doesn’t feel possible to be this happy with one person. Your smile makes my heart sing. If I could give the world anything it would be for everyone to be loved like I love you. Separately we’re flawed but together…we’re perfect. I love you and vow from this day forward to make you happy until I die. And I have to go first.”
The crowd laughs, and you can tell by the sound that every one of their hearts is cracked wide open.
Max guides us through putting on the rings. “I now pronounce you, husband and wife!”
Lifting the veil I gaze at her. Wren gives me a wink and I pull her in for a kiss that inspires applause so loud the police show up eleven minutes later—the neighbors filed a noise complaint.
But that’s what we Cockers do. We push the envelope, tear down the box people say we should live in. And when we get married, we mean it. Which means there’s gonna be a party.
A fter we’ve had our fill of the best food you’d see at any of our Family BBQs, including Grandma Nance’s famous chili and that fresh ginger ale we all want the recipe for, Wren and I take the dance floor. It’s a wooden rental complete with twinkle lights in every corner and a canopy, just in case. You never know in Atlanta what kind of weather you’re gonna get.
The intimate space overflows with everyone we care about as I slowly dance with my wife. “Never thought I’d do it, huh? Get married?”
“No,” she laughs. “But to be fair I never wanted you to. This wasn’t a dream of mine.”
“Oh no?” I ask, eyebrows lifted.
“You know what I mean.”
“Mmm,” I hum in agreement, kissing her. “Guess you can’t plan true love.”
From out of nowhere, but a surprise to nobody here, a crack of thunder makes the dance floor jolt, followed by a flash of light through what used to be a clear sky.
Wren’s eyes go large, almost like she was hoping for a storm.
Curious I ask, “You want it to rain?”
“There are some people who believe rain during a wedding means babies are coming.”
“You have something to tell me?”
Sliding her fingers into my hair she smiles. “Yes…I want them with you.”
Relaxing a little, I assure my bride, “Oh, you’ll get them.”
She makes an amused noise, half-scoff, half-laugh. But then her smile fades. “Were you hoping I was pregnant?”
Shrugging I start to lie, but think better of it—not exactly a good way to start a marriage. “A little. I’m not in a rush, but I’ll relish the day you tell me our family is growing.”
“Why?”
“Because I love you.”
That’s what I
