But then, I try on The Dress. Sleeveless, with a deep V-neck and a bodice designed to plump and support and display me to sexy but classy effect, with a basque waist. It fits perfectly, molding to my body, feels comfortable, and makes me look like I have more curves than I do. And it’s just…me. There’s something indefinable about it that just resonates.
The moment I emerge from behind the screen, the chatter falls silent.
“That one,” Bethany breathes, her eyes wide. She brushes her hair out of her face—it’s longer than mine, now, and I hope she grows it out. I hope she never buzzes her head again. “That one is perfect.”
“I agree,” Grandma says. “That’s the dress.”
Mom, crying, just nods.
I look at Frederick—he’s tall, stout, prematurely gray hair in a voluminous pompadour, wearing a pink three-piece tuxedo and full eyeliner and mascara, and a thick graying beard. “This one, Frederick.”
His smile is bright and joyful and knowing. He winks at me. “Darling, I’ve already tailored that one for you. I knew you’d pick that one.”
“You did?” I ask. “How?”
He just shrugs, makes a demure face. “Oh, well, I’m your fairy godmother, didn’t you realize? I just know these things.”
“That’s why it fits so much better than the others,” I say.
He claps his hands. “Yup! Now, I just need to take it in a touch here…” he pinches a spot, “and let it out a little in the bust, touch up the hem a bit…” He’s already calculating. “Okay, off with it, darling. I need to make it perfect. Chloe!”
Chloe arrives, then, her head freshly shaved, wearing an incredible crimson gown that hugs her figure and displays her legs. She embraces me tightly. “You work quick don’t you, honey? He put a ring on it already!”
I just grin as I release her. “I’m so glad to see you, Chloe.”
She runs her fingers through my hair, now long enough that I have to actually style it. “You have to let me do your hair for you. It’s growing out so nicely! I bet it’s gonna be thick and amazing, once it’s longer.”
“I wouldn’t let anyone but you do my hair,” I say.
She winks. “Good answer, hon.”
The next couple hours are occupied with hair and makeup, fitting into my dress, only to have Frederick demand one last adjustment. My dad arrives, wearing a classic tuxedo and looking as dashing as ever—he’s tearful, and gamely choking it back.
“See, Dad?” I say, patting his cheek. “I told you I’d be fine. Nothing to worry about.”
He laughs. “Is that an exact quote?”
“Yes. I distinctly remember telling you I was going to make a miraculous recovery and get married to a movie star the day after getting out of the hospital. Didn’t I tell you that?”
He just huffs. “Yeah, I remember that, now that you mention it.”
I hold his gaze. “Do we have your blessing, Dad?”
He blinks up at the ceiling. “Yes, honey. You do. The whole thing has been highly unorthodox and weird and I would never have in a million years predicted any of this. But it’s clear as the nose on my face that that man loves you something fierce. And you love him back. And I’m just—” he breaks off, tries again. “I’m just so grateful that you—that you’re—”
I hug him. “I know, Daddy. Me too.”
“I love you, Jo-Jo-Bean. And nothing could make me happier than to give you away to Wes.”
I poke his ribs. “You’re just glad you’re inheriting someone to talk about football and grilling with.”
He nods, tips his head to one side. “That is a bonus. I’ve been the only man in the family for a long time.”
By the time I’m nearly ready, I can hear the buzzing murmur of voices from the backyard—I haven’t had a chance to look out there, so I have no idea who’s there or how many people there are.
There’s a band playing classical covers of pop songs.
My heart is starting to beat out of my chest.
Mom has taken her place out in the yard as the mother of the bride, and Dad is waiting behind the mobile curtain set up between the back door from the kitchen and the rows of chairs. Bethany is with me, arranging my train. Handing me my flowers—a bouquet of red and white and pink roses.
Dad sees me, now with my veil and my bouquet and the train trailing behind me, and he finally loses to the tears he’s been fighting all day.
“You look…radiant,” he says to me, wiping at his eyes.
“Thank you, Daddy.” I tuck my hand into his proffered arm. “You look handsome.”
“Why thank you, my dear.” He sighs deeply. “Are you ready for this?”
I’m nervous, but more than anything…I’m ready. I nod. “More than ready.”
He gives a signal to someone, and I hear the band transition to the Wedding March. The curtains are pulled back by invisible hands, and I now see the rows filled with people.
I choke up.
Cancer survivors and current patients make up a section—friends from chemo, and some of them online friends from cancer kid chat rooms.
Another section is the nurses and doctors whom I’ve become close to over the years, especially Dr. Miller.
The cast, director, and principal crew of Singin’ in the Rain.
Chloe. Frederick. Even Michael, the carriage driver, with his massive shoulders and an unlit pipe.
Mom, Grandma, Aunt Macy.
Dinah.
With Dinah, an older man and woman who by the resemblance to Dinah and Wes I assume are his parents—I had been wondering if they’d be here, since he doesn’t seem especially close to them.
More people than I’d have ever imagined would be at my wedding—had I ever dared imagine I would even have a wedding.
And Westley.
He’s waiting for me at the altar, in a white tuxedo, black tie, black and white Oxfords. His eyes shine. Hands behind his back, chin high, pride and love and anticipation on his face.
His eyes fix on me as I walk with the sedate, almost too-slow pace down the aisle toward him. He’s fighting tears. Swallowing hard, breathing as if exerting the strictest control over himself.
The walk to Westley seems to take an eternity.
Finally, finally, I’m facing him and my hands are in his and I’m gazing up into his deep rich wild exulting brown eyes.
I love you, he mouths.
I want to kiss him so badly. Instead, I squeeze his hands and will myself to not cry until after I’ve said the vows.
I barely hear the minister’s brief speech. He reads I Corinthians 13, and connects it marriage, and then he’s looking at Westley in expectation. “You wrote your own vows?”
Westley nods, but I freak out. “I didn’t have time to write anything!”
He shakes his head. “Just speak from the heart, honey. I didn’t write anything either.” He breathes in, holds it, chin high, and then lets it out through pursed lips. “I really just wanted an opportunity to tell you, publicly, in front of our friends and family, that I love you with all my heart. I just wanted to be able to tell you how amazing you are. You inspire me. You challenge me to be the best version of myself I can be.” He pauses, swallows hard. “You made a TikTok proposing to me. You couldn’t have expected any of the things that have happened since you and Bethany put that video out on the internet. No one could have. Yet somehow, I saw it. And in that video I got a glimpse of your soul. I saw the brave, strong, funny, talented woman that you are, and I think in that moment, in those short three minutes where you sang ‘Marry Me’ by Train, I first fell in love with you. I honestly don’t if I really thought we’d end up actually getting married, when I went out to see you. Even after I met you and said yes, I don’t know that I really knew yet what you would come to mean to me, how important you would become in such a short time.” He takes a shaky breath. “Somewhere between Cheyenne, Wyoming and sitting at your side in that hospital, I didn’t just fall in love with you, I discovered that when God created the heavens and the earth, he created you and me for each other.”