“Madison A. Smith,” she says sternly, using my full name. “We went through this. You just so happen to be the most beautiful woman in this entire hotel. Maybe even the city.”
My eyebrows shoot up at that one.
We both break down in laughter.
“But even if you weren’t, you deserve your happily ever after. You deserve your rock god of a husband. Especially after all he put you through.”
I embrace her gently, so as not to crush my dress.
“You’re right about that. Rio did put me through the wringer.”
But all is good now, I think to myself.
Midnight Records signed Rio and the Wilders to a multi-million-dollar deal.
It’s only been six months, but ifRolling Stonemagazine is to be believed, they’re heading for their first gold record.
Rio’s already rehearsing his acceptance speech at the Grammys.
“And let’s hope your wearing Bianca Jagger’s wedding dress will bring Rio the same good luck as Mick. Wouldn’t it be great to see Rio shaking his tail feather in the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame when he’s 70?”
The image of Rio at 70, thrusting his hips on the stage to screaming fans, makes me laugh.
But the image of Rio beside me at that time in our lives fills me with warmth.
I see an image of us posing with our adultchildren and grandchildren on the expansive lawn of some giant Connecticut mansion.
I see my mother in the picture too. Thanks to her attentive medical care, she’s overcome her illness.
Just last week, after a six-month course of treatments, we visited the doctor.
He was happy to report the treatments were a success and all danger gone.
So of course she’d be there, standing proud, surrounded by her grandchildren.
“Okay, Maddie, time for the wedding,” says Janie, pulling me away from my reflection. “Time to get you hitched.”
Janie guides me to the ballroom, where the guests already wait for the wedding to begin.
“Ah, the blushing bride,” says Antoine, standing with Prince Michael. The two of them have agreed to walk me down the aisle, since my own father is out of the picture.
Rio’s manager wears a tuxedo, but in his signature color of purple.
“Are you ready?” Prince Michael asks me. “It’s my first and maybe only time to walk a bride down the aisle.”
“You’re not an old man yet,” I joke. “There’s still time for you to marry, settle down, and have a daughter of your own.”
“Not me,” he says, shaking his head. “My children are the superstars I create. And Rio is my number one son.”
The familiar melody of the iconic “Here Comes the Bride” song begins, and the two men take my arm.
As we float down the red carpet inside the ballroom, I see the faces of friends, family, and coworkers.
Mr. Walker is there, and beside him, Henry Lemon, wearing a bright yellow tuxedo that matches Prince Michael’s purple tux in intensity.
Mr. Lemon had responded well to my proposal. He was able to use his authority and influence to reverse the school board’s decision.
And impressed by my innovative methods to help the kids, heeven offered me a high-paying position as chief of research at his foundation.
