Another time. Another trip. A promise of future togetherness.
That’s when we spy a fussy photographer, an uptight wedding planner, and two women in all white traipsing up the steps. Behind the pack there’s a park officer with a set of keys. It’s clear they’re about to take their engagement photos.
Derick and I share the same thought. We hang casually by the door until they’ve unlocked it and disappeared up the steps. Swiftly, Derick catches the closing door with his foot, and when we’re certain they’re out of sight, we slip inside, sticking to the shadowy corners of the main floor.
The tight-squeeze circular stairwell is a viper pit of echoes, and we try our best not to be heard, but our plan only gets us so far. As the cameraperson sets up their tripod, the wedding planner’s face curdles as she zeroes in on us.
“Excuse me, this is a closed session. You’re not supposed to be up here,” she growls. “Where is security on these shoots? It’s like we prep for nothing!” Clearly, she hasn’t had her morning coffee yet.
I start to stammer out an excuse, but nothing comes to me.
The shorter of the two brides-to-be—a petite woman with short black hair shaved at the sides—catches how frantic I look, how defensive Derick gets, grabbing my hand in protection. Something sweet smooths out her baffled expression when she overhears.
“They’re with us,” she says, shooting a tiny thumbs-up to us behind the planner’s back. “Jeanine, don’t worry. They’re, uh”—she fumbles—“distant cousins. Forgot they were visiting. They’re just here to watch. They won’t bother us.”
The other fiancée pushes off the railing and comes over: “Suz, who are these—”
“Becs,” Shaved-Sides says, “You remember my cousins…Hugh and, uh,Grant.”
Derick does his classic laugh into a cough that sounds like a burp. Then, I’m laugh-cough-burping. And so is Shaved-Sides—Suz. Even her soon-to-be is doing it too, playing along with whatever is going on here. I like them immediately. The only person who isn’t doing it is Jeanine, who’s stabbing something into her iPad with an Apple Pencil while rolling her eyes into oblivion.
“Guests needed to be registered with the park and the planning agency in advance, but I suppose it’s fine,” she gripes. As she’s walking away, under her breath, I hear her mutter, “Do a lesbian wedding, they said! It’ll be fun, they said!”
“Don’t mind her. She’s not a homophobe. She hates everyone equally,” Suz says, rolling her eyes and running a hand through her longer hairs.
“Stop!” Becs says. “You don’t want any stick-ups during the shoot. I worked so hard on that this morning.”
Suz looks at me as Becs licks her palm to flatten down her flyaways. “This is what I have to look forward to for the rest of my life. Aren’t I a lucky lady?”
“Shut up! You’d be a mess without me.” Becs giggles. “And I’m not just referring to your hair.”
“How long have you two been together?” Suz asks, glancing between our bashful faces.
Derick pipes up, “This is actually really new…” His hand slips into mine again.
Becs paws at the white pussy bow on her blouse and says, “Sneaking around, breaking in, crashing private events… Ah, the honeymoon phase… I remember it well.”
“I guess you’ll have the Honeymoon Phase 2.0 soon,” I say, eyeing their matching engagement bands, both with gargantuan diamonds. They must be quite wealthy to afford bling like that and private access to a photo location like this one.
“We haven’t planned anything yet. We’re a one-day-at-a-time kind of couple,” Suz says.
“Yeah,” Becs chimes in. “Why plan a tropical getaway cruise a year in advance when you might be big into theater and want to hit up the West End by the time you tie the knot?”
“You would never!” cries Suz. “She once asked if Chekhov’sThe Seagullwas about Scuttle fromThe Little Mermaid.”
“The Little Mermaid’s a musical. She must like that stage show,” I offer.
“Psh. She’s just got the hots for mermaids. One time, she made me buy this tail so we could—”
“Okay! That’s enough,” Becs cuts in. “Let’s not scar the children.” She smiles warmly. “Stay as long as you want. We paid enough for it. Enjoy the sunrise.”
“They’re ready for you! We can’t lose the light!” Jeanine snaps, one cell phone stuffed between her shoulder and her ear, another in between her clacking fingernails.
“We will. Thanks,” Derick says.
When we cross to the ledge to take in the panorama, I’m floored with the way the light brings new dimensions to the landscape. Derick moves in closer to me so our elbows are knocking. His oops-did-I-make-you-blush smile might just be my favorite smile of all.
Even though we’re perspiring and in need of showers, I turn in to him, letting him wrap his arms around me the way I know he wants to. When I tilt my head to look up at him, body electric, he whispers sensitively, “Would it be okay if I kissed your forehead?”
