“How about here instead of City Hall?” I ask, nodding to the chapel.
Her eyes seem to gleam at that, and she nods.
We head inside, and I immediately spot the recognition in the eyes of the woman behind the desk. She watches me carefully as we approach the desk.
“Welcome to the Best Little Chapel,” she says. “Can I help you?”
My eyes flick to her nametag. “Hi, Peggy. We’re here to get married.”
Her eyes light up. “I’ll comp the fees and give you the deluxe photo package if we can use your photo in our marketing.”
I press my lips together. “That’s something you’ll have to talk to my publicist about.”
“Let’s not get all formal,” she says, pushing a piece of paper across the counter to me. “This just says we can use your image and likeness in our marketing.”
I narrow my eyes at her. “One photo, for one year, and you have to give me a week before you start using it.”
“Deal,” she says, and she reaches her hand across the counter. I shake it, and I detail everything we just said, sign the paper, and ask for a copy.
Fifteen minutes later, I’m standing beside Peggy’s husband, Carl, who is serving as our officiant. Peggy sits in the front row as our witness, and a moment later, Ainsley opens the door and walks into the room to begin her walk down the aisle toward me.
She’s holding onto a gaudy bouquet of fake flowers Peggy lent to her, and my heart skips a beat.
I can’t piece togetherwhyit feels that way, but seeing this woman walk toward me tells me this is real. It’s serious. We’re not just fucking around. We’re actually doing this.
I didn’t think it through, which can be said for most things in my life, so it tracks with who I am. On top of that, it’sfake…or rather, it’spretend. We’re not faking the wedding. This is real, and it’s happening, and she’s going to be my wife.
In name only, of course.
But still.
And it feels unsettling watching her walk toward me as we listen to the opening notes of some love song from the early nineties that Peggy chose for us.
It feels like it shouldn’t be fake.
It makes literally no sense to feel that way. While I’ve known who Ainsley Riggs is for eight years, I still don’t reallyknowher. She’s best friends with my sister, sure, but my sister is thirteen years younger than me. They met when Ains was a junior and my sister was a freshman, and Ains was assigned as Ivy’sbig sisterat a summer volleyball camp.
They got close and remained the best of friends, and they even attended the same college. She was often at our house when I stopped by for Bradley family dinners on Monday nights, but I can’t say I ever held a one-on-one conversation with her that didn’t involve something logistical like anexcuse mefor bumping into her in the kitchen or asorry for parking my car behind yours in the drivewaysort of situation.
I can’t say that anymore. She’s lived with me for almost two weeks now, and while I still don’t know very much about her, I know she’s an incredible caretaker with strong instincts and a killer intuition. She’s fun, like the day she followed me into New York–New York and we rode the roller coaster. She’s smart, like how she knows so many things about taking care of a baby. She’s gorgeous, a genuine knockout, but she has no clue.
And she’s about to become my wife.
Carl doesn’t waste much time with pleasantries.
“We are gathered here today to join—” He pauses and glances at the paper in front of him before he continues. “Dex Bradley and Ainsley Riggs in matrimony. Marriage is a lawful promise between two people who wish to spend their livestogether, and today we are celebrating this young couple’s commitment.”
He pauses, and we hear the click of a camera, presumably from our witness, Peggy. There are also several cameras set up around us to capture every possible angle of our quickie Vegas-style wedding.
“Do you, Dex, take Ainsley to be your lawfully wedded wife?” Carl asks me.
I pause, and I turn toward Ainsley. When our eyes connect, I say, “I do.”
Ainsley seems to let go of a small breath.
“And do you, Ainsley, take Dex to be your lawfully wedded husband?”
She nods and doesn’t pause. “I do.”
