The judge’s trademark scowl turns into something I don’t recognize on his face. I think it might be a smile. What the hell?
“Winning the competition,” he almost cheerily announces. “Every year,” he explains, “each retired judge picks one couple who we refuse an annulment, asking them to wait an unreasonablylonger period of time. If we can get them to remain married after that period, we win the pool.”
I stand there in shock, but Daylen asks, “How big is the pool?”
He lifts his eyes upward, and his lips move as he appears to count. “Well, there are around thirty-three retired judges in the program, but four are boring and don’t like a little fun competition. We each contribute one dollar to the pot, so that’s twenty-nine dollars I’ve got coming my way.”
My jaw drops. “You fucked with our lives for twenty-nine dollars?”
His small smile becomes much larger. “I suppose that’s one way to look at it. The other is that perhaps I know what I’m doing. I’ve been married for sixty-eight years. I’ve been a family court judge for nearly all that time. I’ve seen what works and doesn’t work. I saw a fire in you two that I knew would light with the right kindling. I merely provided that kindling. It was you two who lit that fire and set it ablaze. I saw your speech on the television, Ms. Jeffries…or should I call you Mrs. Humblecut?” He turns his attention to Daylen. “And you, Mr. Humblecut, I could hear your laugh two counties over, let alone a room or two over. I may be getting old, but it’s not easy to pull one over on me.”
Daylen and I are shocked into silence, and the judge chuckles. I didn’t even know he had teeth. “I see I’ve stunned you.” He straightens his collar. “It’s good to know I still have it.”
Again, we remain silent. Neither of us has any words for this insanity.
He sighs. “Well, I suppose my work here is done. I understand congratulations are in order. Shall I assume it’s okay to tear up these annulment papers? I’ll sign them today if you’d like.”
Daylen walks into the room I’m standing in and throws his arm around me before kissing my cheek. “No annulment needed.”
“Ms. Jeffries?”
I shake my head. “No annulment.”
He grins. “Excellent. I’ll tell the wife she can have dinner at the fancy steakhouse tonight. Twenty-nine dollars goes a long way in Vegas.”
I think that was a joke. Did he just try to make a joke?
He laughs as he continues, “I’ll give you one parting bit of advice about matrimony. Maturing in a marriage is understanding that if you hit your wife’s butt as you walk by, she’ll roll her eyes, but if you don’t, she’ll wonder why you don’t love her anymore. Don’t ever stop smacking her ass.”
He waves, and practically sings, “Best of luck, you two,” before he cuts the feed.
A few hours later,Daylen and I are standing in front of each other reciting our vows, staring lovingly into each other’s eyes. Yes, our friends and family are here, but we only have eyes for each other.
We’re dressed in high-end but not too formal clothing. Daylen happily let me dress him in slacks, a button-down shirt, and a sports coat. It’s my favorite look on him. I’m in a silky, long white dress that shows enough cleavage to keep him happy but not be inappropriate. We rented a rooftop restaurant in a downtown Philly skyscraper. It’s winter, so we couldn’t be outside, but the restaurant has glass walls with three-hundred-and-sixty-degree views of the city, so it’s beautiful.
“Do you take this man to be your husband?” the officiant, whose name isn’t Pinky or Elvis, asks.
“I do.” I smile at Daylen as we hold each other’s hands. I decide to add my own vows. “I promise that the only waterfalls I’ll chase are the real ones with you by my side. I promise to never judge you, even if you wear cargo pants, white jeans, or sandalswith socks. If you want a photo of yourself in front of your car, I’ll take it for you. If you want to wear a chain necklace, I’ll help you put it on. If you want a fruity drink, I’ll make it for you.” My eyes well with tears. “I’ll never ask you to be anything other than authentically you because I love the real you. With a spatula in hand, I’ll love you until the day I die. And if I go first, I’ll haunt you for eternity just to ensure you make good fashion decisions.”
He smirks as he bends forward and softly kisses my lips.
The officiant turns to Daylen. “Do you take this woman to be your wife?”
“I do,” he answers with a mischievous sparkle in his eyes. “I’ll never again judge a bra by its cover. I’ll put my hands inside and discover.”
I smile while everyone laughs.
He continues, “You, Kennedy, are the person who matters most to me in the world.” I fight my tears. He knows what that statement means to me. “I want us to grow old together. Old enough so we can complain about how things used to be better, like your dad does. I promise I’ll care more about you than how much Netflix cares if you’re logging on from a different location with a different device. I promise to dance with you on our balcony. I promise to carry you inside if you fall asleep in the rain. I promise to always make you laugh. And when I die,” his face turns serious, “I want my ashes placed in your salsa so I can tear your ass up one last time.”
The whole place erupts in laughter except my dad. He barks, “Humblecut!”
Daylen snaps his head toward my father. “Sorry, Coach.”
Harper, who’s our flower girl, asks Tanner, “What does that mean, Daddy?”
Tanner pinches the bridge of his nose. “Oh Christ. Ask your mother.”
I grin widely, point at Daylen, and lightheartedly announce, “My emergency contact, ladies and gentlemen.”
