Well, that does it. Tears spring in my eyes.
“You’re my partner,” he says, his chest heaving. But then, his mouth quirks up with a little half-smile. “My sparring partner, at times, yes. My partner in crime, for sure. But, always, my equal partner.”
My breathing hitches as I try not to sob.
He cups my cheek in his palm. “I thought I knew it all when I met you, Georgina Ricci. I thought I had the whole world figured out. But you came along and showed me what I was missing. You completed me and brought me pure joy. And for that, I’m so grateful. My vow to you, my beloved Georgina, is that I’ll always love and protect you and take care of you. You’ve got me, baby. All of me. And I promise, every day of my life, forever, to make sure I’m the Fred Astaire you rightly deserve.”
***
Best. Wedding. Reception. Ever.
With a loud whoop, I throw my bridal bouquet up and behind my back. And when I spin around to see where my flowers landed, I’m thrilled to discover it’s Zasu, the woman who mentored me during my internship at Rock ‘n’ Roll, who’s caught them. It’s a perfect result, since Zasu is always telling me horror stories from her “hellacious” dating life. Hopefully, those flowers will bring her a prince, the next time she swipes right on Tinder, rather than yet another frog. Although, given that Tinder is Zasu’s primary vehicle for meeting men, I wouldn’t count on it.
As Zasu raises her flowers into the air, a loud cheer rises up inside the house—a telltale sign that yet another “super-group” has walked onstage to perform another “typical wedding song” for the party. It’s the only wedding gift Reed and I requested: for Reed’s attending artists to get up onstage, at some point during the reception, in any combinations, and thrill our guests with their interpretations of classic party songs. Tunes like Dancing Queen and Love Shack and Uptown Funk. And that’s exactly what these musical geniuses have been doing all night long. And it’s been the best thing, ever.
The iconic piano intro to “I Will Survive” sounds from inside the house, followed by the smooth vocals of the one and only Dean Masterson of Red Card Riot singing the instantly recognizable first line.
“I have to dance to this one!” I shriek. I mean, come on. Dean Masterson is singing “I Will Survive”... at my wedding? My fourteen-year-old self would need smelling salts.
As if on cue, my new husband appears at my side, looking dapper in his perfectly tailored Armani tux, and leads me on his arm into the house.
As we walk toward the French doors on the opposite side of the large patio, I notice C-Bomb and Dax Morgan sitting on a bench together in a far corner, their body language relaxed and friendly. “Reed, look.” I gesture to the unlikely duo, and Reed and I share a huge smile.
Before tonight, we already knew the guys of 22 Goats and Red Card Riot had received our wedding invitations and decided to put their differences aside to party under one roof for the first time in years. But knowing Dax and C-Bomb had finally decided to bury the hatchet, in our honor, and actually seeing them together, looking like old friends, laughing and smiling... well, those are two different things.
“That happened because of you,” Reed says.
I scoff. “No. They’re here because celebrating with you was more important to them than hanging onto whatever originally pissed them off.”
Reed chuckles. “Silly Mrs. Rivers. What I meant is they’re all so shocked I landed a catch like you, they were dying to see for themselves if you actually went through with saying ‘I do.’”
I roll my eyes and he laughs.
Inside the house, we find Dean singing his heart out onstage, as expected, backed by some of the most recognizable musicians in the world, all of them looking like they’re having the time of their lives up there, making that campy song their own. When we reach the dance floor, we’re welcomed enthusiastically by Josh and Kat—who looks svelte and gorgeous in her tight-fitting blue gown—and, also, by Henn and Hannah—who’s sporting an adorable baby bump these days.
Not surprisingly, Henn begins performing one of his patented “break dance moves,” making everyone around him laugh and egg him on. And, soon, our little dance party in the middle of the floor is the place to be. In rapid succession, we’re joined by the Fantastic Four: Keane, Maddy, Zander, and Aloha, who, in turn, are accompanied by Kat’s adorable parents, Thomas and Louise Morgan. Soon, the next wave shows up: Reed’s sister, Dax, Colin and his date, and Alessandra and Fish, all of whom begin dancing like there’s no tomorrow.
Still dancing, Alessandra comes over to me and grabs my hands, and we do a joyful little jig that makes me feel like I’ve got a jetpack on my back. As Reed predicted, Alessandra’s single, “Blindsided,” eventually rose as high as number eight on the charts and launched her in a big way. So much so, Alessandra’s eventual album, which released four months ago, has already churned out three top twenty hits, including an adorable duet she co-wrote and recorded with Fish called “Smitten,” which recently hit number one on the Alternative Chart.
When I disengage from Alessandra, I prance over to Owen, who’s dancing with Zasu, and then my father, and Leonard and his wife, before returning to my husband to finish out the song. As I dance, my eyes drift around the room, grazing over all the familiar, happy faces. CeeCee and her husband, Francois. Professor Schiff and her date. Bernie, my old boss from the bar, with his sweet wife. Reed’s mom is dancing with Amalia and her nurse, Tina, and the orderly, Oscar, who made the trip, at our invitation and on Reed’s dime.
And, suddenly, it hits me like a ton of bricks what a truly magical thing a wedding is in a person’s life. The one and only time—at least, when they’re alive to see it—when a person is surrounded by literally everyone who loves them, from every segment and phase of their life, all under one roof—and everyone is full of pure joy.
Feeling overcome with love and gratitude, I hurl myself at Reed, pull his face to mine by his sexy scruff, and kiss him fervently. “Happy wedding day, my gorgeous hunk of a husband!”
Reed laughs. “Oh, shit. I’m a husband?” He looks down at the metal band on his finger. “Wait. Is that what all that ring exchanging and ‘I do-ing’ meant? Someone should have told me!”
I giggle with glee and kiss his ring. “Sorry, Mr. Rivers. The deed is done, and you can’t take it back. I’m all yours, according to a legally binding contract. And you’re all mine. Don’t you know the first rule of negotiations? Careful what you ask for—you just might get it.”
Reed nuzzles my nose, a huge smile on his face. “I wouldn’t have it any other way. Happy wedding day, Cinderella.”
I swoon. “I knew you were my Prince Charming, the minute I met you.”
He laughs. “And this is the part of the fairytale where we get to ride off into the sunset and live happily ever after.”
I look into Reed’s sparkling, chocolate eyes. “There’s no need for us to ride off anywhere, my love. We’re already here.”
Epilogue
Reed
Eight years later
My heart pounding, I park my small suitcase inside our front door and tear through our moonlit living room. I take the stairs, two at a time, and barrel down the hallway toward Leo’s nursery. As I approach the doorway, I hear the glorious sound of Georgina singing “Beautiful Boy” by John Lennon—the song I played for my beautiful wife the day she gave me Leonardo Ricci Rivers seven months ago.