‘I promise to never leave you in Heartbreak Hotel. Or have a suspicious mind,’ I say. ‘I promise to love you tender, and love you sweet, and never let you go. You have made my life complete, and I promise to always love you so.’ Our eyes meet and for a brief second, I wish with all my heart this was real.
‘You’ve chosen to exchange wedding rings, which symbolise the promise of lasting marriage and your devotion to each other.’
Matteo hands Elvis the boxes with our rings in.
‘Like a fountain of love, flowing endlessly, these rings and the love they represent will nourish you, in this life and the next. But remember,’ he says, dramatically and loudly, ‘the ring is only a symbol. It shows the world that you belong to someone, just as they belong to your heart. But as you wear them, it’s your care, devotion, and concern for one another that are the true signs of your love.’
Matteo slips the ring on my finger, not taking his eyes from mine for a second. I blink slowly. The emotion is welling up inside me.
I gulp down the temptation to cry happy tears as I slip the golden wedding band slowly onto his strong and capable finger. The matching platinum band against the raised gold looks simple and elegant.
‘Lord have mercy, look at this beautiful love!’ yells Elvis to our gondolier, causing us to start giggling again. ‘Constance and Matteo, by the power vested in me by the State of Nevada and American Marriage Ministries, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may now kiss your bride!’
Matteo leans towards me, a huge smile on his face. He has thoroughly enjoyed this experience. It has been so much fun. Everything I’d want in a real wedding. He kisses me lightly on the lips, leaving me tingling all over. ‘You look so happy. I wish we could stay in this moment forever,’ he murmurs into my ear.
I cup his face, a bloom of pride swelling in my heart. ‘Me too.’
Elvis stands up and spreads his arms wide as ‘Viva Las Vegas’ bellows from the gondola speaker. ‘Ladies and gentlemen,’ he yells to all the passers-by, ‘give it up for Mr and Mrs Torrado Grande!’
People walking along the sides of the canal, bustling from shop to shop or scurrying towards the casino, stop to stare, cheer and clap. It’s then that I remember we need to be floating under the bridge at dead on 3p.m. I have no idea where my phone is to check the time and, as I cast my eyes about, I remember Las Vegas is the city with no clocks.
Matteo gets my drift instantly. ‘No need,’ he says, pointing at the bridge. The colour has drained from his face. I twist round to see what’s going on.
Birdie is not the only one standing with her mouth agape. Ged and Liam are beside her, jaws hanging open, eyes wide with shock, hurt and disbelief. The Dollz are beside them, their faces a mix of incredulity and confusion. Tash is slapping her own cheeks as though we are part of an elaborate hallucination. Big Sue and Big Mand keep gawping at me then at each other. Liberty has both eyebrows as near to her hairline as they can get and her mouth a perfect O. Cherry is grinning as she chews slowly on a length of sugary rope, a knowing smile splattered across her face. She gives us a sly thumbs up.
Only Sister Kevin is clapping along to ‘Viva Las Vegas’ until Tash whacks him with her handbag.
Oh. My. God.
Things could not have gone any worse.
Loud singing penetrates the haze of confusion.
Oh, wait. Things can get worse. Much worse.
My ears filter out the cacophony of noise and yells from the bridge to make certain.
No. It can’t be.
A series of pitch-perfect notes and operatic singing booms out across the water. It sounds like Luke. He’s singing‘Mi Amore Mi Amore’.
I swivel around to see where it is coming from. At that moment, a spectacularly showy super-gondola floats beside us. Luke is belting out the song dressed as a singing gondolier, complete with boater hat, cummerbund, unflattering striped T-shirt clinging to him and legs wide apart clad in flared black trousers flapping in the breeze while he thrusts the oar dramatically into the water. A familiar-looking bride and groom sit opposite gazing affectionately at him.
But when the super-gondola floats serenely past us, Luke does a double take, causing him to lose a beat in his singing. He squints hard at me, his eyes raking over my wedding dress. His whole face drops as realisation dawns. His gaze flicks to Matteo, before he abruptly stops singing.
‘Connie?’ he bellows as they float past. He twists round, bringing the huge oar out of the water to try to halt the gondola’s progress as the music continues playing without him.
Then to everyone’s horror, the oar bashes into the orange Donald Trump who is marrying the couple, and we see two rings fly up into the air and land in the water. The bride screams. The groom yells, and all the while Luke is trying to continue singing as though none of it was his fault. The bride leaps to her feet and bashes her bouquet of flowers against Luke’s chest before pushing him in the water.
Tash is filming it all for her Instagram and has clearly recognised the famous bride.
‘You bastard! Find my wedding rings!’ she screeches. ‘And you can forget all about the million-dollar fee while you’re at it! I’ll sue you into the shitting ground for this.’
We float along, staring up at our friends, aghast. It’s hard to know where to look. Luke is splashing about in the water trying to make for the side while lots of people are shouting at him, and the bride is squawking about her dream wedding being ruined.
We glide under the bridge, momentarily out of everyone’s sight, and take a moment to stare at one another.
‘This was so not the plan,’ I say. ‘Ged and Liam are going to be furious. And Luke, hewasactually here for work after all! Oh my God.’ My hand flies to my mouth.
