I slide my wedding band off and give it to Arthur for safekeeping until it’s time for James to take it up the ‘real’ aisle. We’re in my apartment at the palace and there’s been a flurry of activity all around since four a.m. I’m tired, nervous, and also pretty damn excited because I’m in my Sleeping Beauty dress, which looks even better than I remembered. Eek! I look like a Disney Princess (which is totally an okay thing for a thirty-year-old bride who wants to be taken seriously to want).
Nikki is just finishing my fancy schmancy up-do (as she calls it). She’s dyed her hair a very normal dark blonde for today and she and Tessa (who finally gave up on losing the baby weight again and realized she’s perfect as-is) are in matching soft lilac gowns.
“You lucky bitch,” she says to me, stepping back and shaking her head. “Totally gorgeous, rich as sin, and about to marry one of the hottest men on the planet.”
“Well…” I say, referring to the fact that we’re already married.
“You know what I meant,” she says.
“Yes, and you’re right. I’m one lucky bitch.” Standing, I say, “Okay, let’s do this so we can get on with the party already.”
The carriage ride feels like a total fairy-tale. I’m with father and Gran, and Tessa, Arthur, Nikki, and the kids are in a Rolls Royce ahead of us. I wave at the people, suddenly happy that we didn’t cancel and take this away from them. They look so thrilled.
And now, we’re at the steps of the church, and the doors are about to open. I take in a deep breath, preparing myself to enter the cold, stone building and float past the thousand-plus people waiting. You know who else will be waiting? My super-hot husband, William Banks, who yesterday was made a Knight of the Most Noble Order of the Lion and Duke of Bainbridge (so we’re matchy matchy now). So, suck it, Hateful Hannah Stalker Face. I’m the current Mrs. Will Banks and that is not going to change. I’m so nice, he’s marrying me twice.
Oh, wow, where did that cockiness come from? Good thing I kept that in my head.
The doors swing open and we step inside, then I stop in place and gasp. “Holy mother of pearl!” I whisper. (No swearing allowed. We’re in a church after all.)
It’s the enchanted forest from my wedding planning album. The entire ceiling is covered with wisteria vines that drip down from the rafters in purple and green tendrils. A long ivory runner serves as the aisle, with beautiful ivory and ivy floral arrangements secured to the side of each pew.
My father leans in and whispers, “Do you love it?”
I nod, tearing up. “How?”
“Your husband.”
“Seriously?” How did he know?
“Yes, he spent hours on video calls with the wedding planners to make this happen. He’s actually quite the groomzilla, as it turns out.”
Covering my mouth with one hand, I let out a laugh. “I can’t believe he did all this.”
“He really loves you.”
He is going to get so lucky later. So, so, lucky. Like, I might even pull out the edible undies. Hmm, okay, I won’t. Still too fresh. But really very lucky because, as I walk up the aisle of my fairy-tale wedding that exists inside my real life fairy-tale, I am certain that one thing is true: Will and I are going to spend the rest of our lives surprising each other. It may not always be good, but it’ll always be exciting.
I walk past the pews, smiling at members of the Avonian Introverts Society (at the very back, of course), foreign dignitaries from around the globe, my UN Equal Everywhere friends, the Sharpe family (who take up two rows themselves), and Will’s co-workers from ANN. My eyes land on Dylan Sinclair, who mouths, ‘You look GORGEOUS! LOVE IT! Love the dress!!!’ I mouth back ‘thank you,’ realizing I don’t hate her anymore. She’s not evil. She’s just a really driven woman who will go to any lengths to achieve her dreams. Huh, maybe I’m not angry at her because we’re not that different after all. Or maybe it’s because I won and, by midnight tonight, Will’s contract will be going through a shredder while we drink champagne.
Suck it, Dylan.
Okay, maybe I’m still not her biggest fan.
When we get to the front of the church, my dad does the whole handoff thing again, and this time, we’re all so much more light-hearted about it than the first time. The first time was for us. This time is for show.
Will grins down at me, looking devastatingly gorgeous in a dark grey morning suit, white shirt, and a pale blue tie. “What do you think? Are you glad we didn’t skip it?”
“So glad.” I glance up at the wisteria. “How did you know?”
“I found your album in the garbage, so I took some pictures—not of Patrick Dempsey or the unicorn, but most of the ones I thought you’d still be interested in.”
Completely forgetting the entire world is waiting, I lean in and whisper, “Is that why you took so long to come to bed that night?”
He grins. “Worth the wait?”
“Soworth it.”
“Should we get this over with? Because you’ve kind of got that look that says I’m going to get very lucky later, so I wouldn’t mind hurrying this along,” he whispers.
