“Ladies and gentlemen,” Max says, his voice carrying easily across the terrace. “If I could have your attention for a moment, please.”
The crowd hushes, anticipation crackling in the air.
“As best man, it’s my sacred duty to embarrass Rhett tonight. And don’t worry, I came prepared. I’ve known this guy forever, and believe me when I say, he was not always the smooth, terrifyingly efficient mogul you all know now. Oh no. Once upon a time, he was a lanky teenager with a tragic haircut, questionable taste in music, and - brace yourselves for this one - a collection of comic books so large his parents considered disowning him.”
Laughter ripples through the crowd. Rhett groans quietly beside me, his hand tightening on mine.
“But in all seriousness,” Max continues, “I can honestly say, I’ve never seen him like this before. Pippa, you’ve done the impossible. You’ve turned him into a romantic. You’ve softened the sharpest edges out of him and brought out the best in him. You’ve made him laugh, really laugh, in a way I didn’t think he could. And Rhett? You’ve found the one woman in the entire world who looks at you and doesn’t just see the success, the power, or the money. How could she? She thought you were just another scowling American dude working in London. She didn’t know you were an American billionaire taking over the city of London. Even now, she just sees you. And what she sees, she loves. So, to Rhett and Pippa, may your life together be full of joy, laughter, and enough embarrassing stories for me to keep making speeches until we’re all old and grey.”
Everyone cheers, glasses clinking. Rhett mutters something under his breath about killing Max later, but the smile tugging at his lips betrays him. Then Sandra stands up. My heart twists. I don’t know what’s coming, but I’m sure she’ll be brilliant.
“Hi everyone,” she says, clutching her glass. “I’m Sandra, the maid of honor, and Pippa’s partner in crime since forever. We’ve been through everything together: heartbreaks, terrible fashion choices, new jobs, and people coming and going from our lives. I’ve seen Pippa at her best and her absolute worst. And let me tell you, when she first told me she was staying in New York with Rhett, I was happy for her, but at the same time, I was a little bit worried, because I thought she’d lost her mind.”
The crowd laughs. I groan.
“But then,” Sandra goes on, her voice softening. “I saw her with him. I saw the way she smiled when she talked about him, the way she lit up around him. And when I met him, I got it. Because, Rhett, you look at her the way she deserves to be lookedat. Like she’s your world. And Pippa, you are brave enough to love someone that much. That’s rare. That’s beautiful. And I couldn’t be happier for you both.”
Her voice wavers slightly at the end, and I feel my throat tighten, tears threatening. Applause bursts out again, loud and warm, wrapping around me like a hug. Then the lights dim, and the screen set up near the band flickers to life.
It starts with a classic montage of soft, romantic clips of Rhett and me together, set to music. There are some from our engagement party, some of our silly moments in the kitchen, and a few shots of stolen glances caught on camera at the wedding earlier – someone has obviously been busy since the ceremony. It’s beautiful, polished, and already I’m misty-eyed. But then the fun part begins.
Sandra pops up on screen, clearly filmed in secret, pulling faces as she recounts one of my teenage disasters. A failed attempt at hair dye that left me with bright orange streaks in my hair for weeks. The crowd roars with laughter. Lucy’s clip follows Sandra recounting the infamous night we tried to sneak into a club with fake IDs and got caught before we even reached the door.
Maria appears next, glamorous as ever, mocking me lovingly for my inability to walk in heels without tripping at least once. She’s not wrong. I’m just glad I got down the aisle in one piece today. Then comes Vanessa, grinning wickedly. She shares a story about Rhett, specifically the time she caught him practicing a love confession in the mirror when he was fourteen. Rhett groans, covering his face, and everyone howls.
Elliot and Camile pop up together, telling the story of their disastrous first attempt at cooking dinner in college, smoke alarm included. Max follows, of course, with an overly dramatic reenactment of Rhett trying to flirt at university, which involves a lot of hair flipping and winking.
And Harrison’s clip? Him, deadpan and reading out a list of all the times Rhett has called or text him in the middle of the night to tell him something about me. “This one just says she smiled at me today. What does it mean?” Harrison intones, stone-faced, and I nearly choke laughing.
The whole room is in stitches. And then there it is in all of its glory. The damned Jessica Rabbit video.
I brace myself, but this time, I don’t flinch. On the screen, my alter ego struts, sultry and ridiculous, a parody that once would have mortified me but now … now I see the humor in it. I hear the laughter, but it isn’t cruel. It’s affectionate, indulgent. They’re laughing with me, not at me. I can’t say I’m overly thrilled about this being the second time Rhett’s parents have had to suffer through it, though.
When it fades, I lean close to Rhett, my heart pounding with something far more personal than the videos.
“You know,” I murmur. “Soon we’ll have our own baby rabbit.”
He blinks at me, confusion flickering before comprehension hits. His hand tightens on mine, his eyes widening.
“Pippa … I … Wow,” he says. His voice cracks, just once.
I smile, the tears gathering again.
“The champagne I’ve been drinking tonight is non-alcoholic.”
For a moment, he can’t speak. He just stares at me as if the world has shifted under his feet. Then he exhales, pulling me into his arms, holding me so tight I can barely breathe.
“Jesus, really?” he demands. His voice is hoarse, full of wonder.
I nod, laughing through my tears. “Well, I mean kind of. We’re having a baby, but it’ll be human and won’t really be a rabbit.”
He kisses me, fiercely, reverently, right there in front of everyone. And for a moment, the cheers that erupt around us are nothing compared to the way he’s looking at me.
Later, my father takes my hand for the father-daughter dance. The music is slow, sentimental, and I let my head rest against his shoulder, breathing in the familiar scent of him.
“I’m proud of you, sweetheart,” he murmurs. “So proud.”
“I love you, Dad,” I whisper, my voice thick with emotion.
