Mitchell took his blue wool suit, which he last wore to Anita’s funeral, to be dry-cleaned. When he got it back, he peeled off the cover and hung it on the back of his bedroom door. He felt odd about wearing it to Graham’s wedding, a celebration after loss. However, it was a good suit. He felt Anita would encourage him to get use out of it. He was glad the fabric was more vivid than he remembered, a bright cobalt rather than a somber navy.
Mitchell placed Anita’s last letter to him in the inside pocket so he could feel her close to him during the ceremony. He put the one he’d written to Liza in there, too, for safekeeping.
Poppy sidled into his bedroom and inspected the jacket on its hanger. She lifted up one of its sleeves. “Do you think it will still fit you?” she asked.
He raised an eyebrow at her. “What are you inferring?”
“Nothing. You’ll just look silly if it’s shrunk.”
He smoothed down his shirt over the torso that was much slimmer than it had been three years ago. “I think it’s more likely that I’ve shrunk.”
Mitchell carried the suit into the bathroom and changed into it. In the mirror above the sink, he stroked its lapels. From what he could see, the jacket looked surprisingly okay on him. It was a bit baggy around the chest, and the trousers were an inch too loose on the waist, but not totally disastrous.
“Is it a bit too big?” Poppy asked as she plucked at the back of his jacket.
“It’s the fashion,” Mitchell said. “Or so I’ll tell people.”
They smiled at each other in the mirror. “I think Mum would say you look handsome,” she said.
* * *
On the day of the wedding, Graham sported a gray three-piece suit, a red cravat and top hat. Apart from his broken front tooth, he looked every inch the dapper groom. He stood in the doorway of Brock’s baronial ballroom and nervously greeted people as they filed in.
Mitchell stood proudly beside him. “It’ll be okay,” he assured him.
“I know, Mitchy Boy. It’ll be marvelous, but I still feel jittery inside. I’ve even brought along one of Mum’s hankies for my top pocket, so she’s kind of here with me.”
Mitchell smiled. “I’ve brought a letter from Anita, too.”
“Well, aren’t we big softies?” Graham said.
As the wedding party guests filed past, Mitchell saw they fitted into two distinct groups. Graham’s friends and family could be identified by the men’s tailored suits and mirror-shiny black shoes. The women wore feathered fascinators, floral-print dresses and court shoes. Rosie’s guests donned lots of velvet and embroidery. Mitchell had never seen so many tattooed shoulders and primary-colored hairstyles at a wedding before.
The ballroom was a fitting venue. It had long stained-glass windows that cast prisms of light across the red carpet. The seating consisted of vintage turquoise velvet cinema seats, set out in rows. At the end of the wedding aisle stood a metal arch, the kind of garden trellis that flowers and leaves wove around. But this one featured something sturdier as its decoration.
Covering every inch of it, padlocks hung, bunched together so tightly that, from a distance, they resembled barnacles on a ship’s anchor.
“What do you think of our centerpiece, Mitchy Boy?” Graham nodded toward it. “I said I wanted to do something special for Rosie.”
“It looks amazing, totally unique, like the two of you,” Mitchell said. He stroked his chin. “Hmm, I wonder where you managed to find so many locks.”
“I have my connections.” Graham winked. “I looked through all the locks and saved the ones with loving messages. Then I fastened them to the arch. We’re going to get married under something that truly represents love. Do you think Rosie will like it?”
“I think she’ll absolutely love it.”
“Good, I hope so. And Brock will keep it to use for future weddings.”
At the mention of his name, Brock appeared. He was dressed in smart jeans and a black T-shirt. He gave Graham a slap on the back and clasped Mitchell’s hand in a bone-crushing shake. “PlayStation or Xbox?” he said.
“Excuse me?”
“Mitchell isn’t a gamer,” Graham said. “He’s my best man.”
“I’m going to try to be,” Mitchell said.
The three men walked down the aisle together and stood in front of the arch. Poppy sat on one of the front seats and stood up to greet them. She looked pretty in her new clothes and shoes. Mitchell fished out her necklace from under her dress so her pug dog pendant was on display.
Brock turned and faced the room, and Mitchell and Graham shared nervy smiles as music started up. It sounded more like an Irish jig than a wedding march, all panpipes and flutes.
“Not my choice,” Graham whispered to Mitchell.
When Rosie appeared, she wore a purple satin dress with a lace-up bodice, down to her bump, and a flowing skirt beyond that. Fluted sleeves hung down to her knees and she carried a small bunch of white roses and freesias. She smiled hello to guests on each side of the aisle as she slowly walked along it toward Graham. As she got closer, Mitchell saw some of the blooms in her bouquet were made out of Lego bricks.
Graham laughed when he spotted them. “I thought some of my pieces were missing,” he said.
Poppy beamed. “She looks like a pregnant fairy princess.”
Brock waited until people’s chatter died down.
Graham and Rosie had written their own marriage vows, and they faced each other to read them out.
“I know you’re like a unicorn and I’m only a donkey,” Graham started. “You’re a rainbow and you bring all the color into my life. You’ve made me a better person.”
As he continued, Mitchell felt a lump rising in his throat, so large it might choke him. He swallowed a few times and stared down at his shoelaces to try to will it away.
His discomfort was broken by the sound of Poppy giggling at Rosie’s speech, in which she promised to cherish Graham’s Lego Death Star, forever and ever.
After Brock pronounced them man and wife, Rosie flipped Graham back in her arms and they conducted a minute-long, full throttle kiss in front of everyone.
Mitchell reached out and covered Poppy’s eyes with his hand, and she laughingly batted it away. She spread her fingers out behind her head in a crown. “They’ll be sweet together forever, just like pineapples,” she said.
* * *
The wedding dinner was a meat-free affair, and when Mitchell read the menu card he groaned inside. The words vegetarian buffet ranked only one lower on his wince list after campfire jamboree.