“You two deserve far more,” Marcela said haughtily from where she stood beside her husband, both obviously trying their best not to look as perturbed by their surroundings as they clearly were. “However,” she added with a softening of her expression, “what you deserve most of all is each other.”
“Thank you, Marcela,” Ethan said. He held out hope that one day she’d permit him to unironically call her Mom or Mother, but he was content to wait. It was enough that their relationship had developed as quickly as it had.
“How fortunate for the proprietor,” Philip murmured. “You should propose charging him a licensing fee for using your likenesses for promotional materials.”
“We’re not here for business,” Max said dryly, though he didn’t look upset.
Philip inclined his head. Was that a hint of a mischievous smile tugging at his lips? “Only a thought.”
“Viva Las Vegas!” a young man called out as he strode in from an adjoining room with a hand extended. He wore a white suit with a white shirt and tie beneath it. “Are we ready to get married?”
Ethan swallowed his laughter as Marcela took in the officiant’s shoulder length hair and ill-fitting suit with mild horror.
“We’re ready,” Ethan told the man. “I’m Ethan and my husband-to-be is Maxmillian.”
“Yes, I saw your cool name on the permit! Okay, let’s get started. Ooh, and these are someone’s parents?” The man grinned widely at the Pooles.
“Yes,” Philip bit out, looking uncomfortable despite the perfectly tailored suit he’d purchased for the event. “We are the witnesses.”
“Cool, we only need one, but two’s great, too! Alright, let’s get these handsome guys married, okay?” The young man winked at the Pooles. “Between you and me, I love marrying gays. Feels like I’m flipping off the status quo, you know?”
The Pooles looked at him, aghast. Ethan pinched his lips shut before he embarrassed them all with wild laughter.
“We’re ready for the ceremony,” Max said pointedly.
The officiant gave him a salute. “Someone’s eager. I like it! Let’s all move up here to the front. Parents, please have a seat if you’d like. Feel free to take photos, but we’ve got Maria there—" he pointed at an elderly Hispanic woman holding a DSL camera who had been lurking at the back of the room, “—who’s going to take some awesome photos of everyone. It’ll be up to you if you’d like to purchase a package, but I highly recommend it. Maria’s the best. She can add filter effects, too, like make you look like puppy dogs or even Elvises. Whatever you like. It’s Vegas!” He pulled a small notebook from a back pocket. “Okay, let’s settle down now and get married!”
Ethan and Max took their places facing each other with the officiant to Ethan’s left. Max’s parents opted to stand to the side, hovering behind Max’s shoulder. Despite the irreverence of the setting and their over-the-top officiant, Marcela’s eyes began to visibly water and she discreetly pulled a handkerchief from her purse to clutch in her hand.
“Do you, Ethan, take Maxmillian to be your wedded husband? To have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish until death do you part?”
I came to Las Vegas and hit the jackpot, Ethan thought as he looked into Max’s shining blue eyes. “I do,” he said. “Until the end of Time.”
“Nice,” the officiant whispered. He turned to Max. “Do you, Maxmillian, take Ethan to be your wedded husband? To have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish until death do you part?”
“I do,” Max said clearly.
The officiant looked past them. “Someone have the rings?”
Philip stepped forward with military bearing and held out a lidded box containing two platinum rings. True to his word, Max had selected them with care. They were simple, elegant, and exactly what Ethan had expected. He and Max each took one.
“Maxmillian, take Ethan’s hand and place your ring on his finger. Please repeat after me: with this ring, I thee wed, and commit myself to you fully.”
“With this ring,” Max said in his rich timber, “I thee wed.” He slipped the ring over Ethan’s finger and held it there as though infusing his emotions into the metal. “I commit myself to you fully.”
Ethan looked down at the circle made by Max’s fingers and the ring. He promised himself to never forget the image.
“Now, Ethan, repeat after me: with this ring, I thee wed, and commit myself to you fully.”
Ethan slid the ring he held over Max’s finger. It fit perfectly. It looked perfect. You’re mine, and now everyone will know it.
“With this ring,” he said as he lifted his gaze to Max’s, “I thee wed, and commit myself to you fully.”
Emotions raced through Max’s eyes. Ethan shared every one of them.
The officiant nodded. “By the power vested in me by the great city of Las Vegas, I now pronounce you husband and husband. Please give a cheer for Mr. and Mr. Winter-Poole!”
Ethan laughed as Max raised an eyebrow, unimpressed by the call for a ‘cheer.’ But Max’s skepticism didn’t dampen the brightness of his smile as he leaned forward. The kiss he gave Ethan was chaste and sweet. It immediately ranked as one of Ethan’s all-time favorites.
“Husband,” Ethan whispered against Max’s lips.
“Husband,” Max whispered back.
It wasn’t the ceremony of Ethan’s dreams. He didn’t think it was anyone’s ideal ceremony. But it was official, and Max’s parents were there for it, and so it was better than good.
“That was quite...memorable,” he heard Marcela whisper to Philip.
Max’s eyes glinted with amusement as Ethan grinned.
After the paperwork was signed and Max and Ethan were informed they could pick up their certificate the next day from the marriage bureau, they took Max’s parents to celebratory high tea at the Mandarin Oriental, where the Pooles were staying.
Marcela, to everyone’s surprise, had purchased the photography package with the DVD, though she’d passed on the special effects filter option. She kept the disc beside her plate as if she were afraid of losing track of it.
“My son is married,” she murmured more than once as they enjoyed scones, finger sandwiches, and petit fours.
Ethan laced his fingers with Max’s atop the table. “The real ceremony will be a lot better,” he assured Marcela.
She waved him off airily before reaching for her tea. “I was witness to the genuine affair. My son is married.” She smiled at him. “To you. I have high expectations for you, Ethan.”
“I hope I live up to them.”
Philip Poole calmly spread double cream over his scone. “You will.”
Ethan gulped, proud and surprised to receive such an endorsement from the intimidating man, but a bit worried, too, about meeting expectations. Fortunately, Philip didn’t follow-up with any discussion of business—not even the expansion of The Elite Poole Worldwide even though it was a joint project for him and Max. Max had previously admitted to not trusting his father’s suggestions for properties in London, but Ethan could tell that those worries had vanished. By coming all the way out here and showing their hand, Philip and Marcela Poole had proved themselves to be the parental allies that Max probably never knew he needed.