I watched as the ghost drifted, growing thinner, until only the memory of his smile remained.
And then we all just stood in the sun, waiting for someone to say what came next.
TWENTY-ONE
Emma
When Henry first pitched the idea of a “Nerd Ball” wedding, I had pictured a rental hall full of people in Renaissance fair costumes, a dessert table groaning under the weight of dice-shaped petit fours, and a DJ who looked like he still lived in his mom’s basement. Instead, the reception was a masterclass in what could happen when you paired Star Wars with the most meticulous event planner in the Northeast. Chandeliers twinkled overhead, alternating blue and red lightsabers hung from each one, and instead of “Here Comes the Bride,” Alice had walked down the aisle to a quartet doing the Imperial March on strings. It had made Henry cry, and probably every girl in the place, too.
Alice’s idea, of course. My new sister-in-law always knew how to put her own stamp on things, even if it meant making her new family’s eyes sting with nostalgia and pride. Now she hovered near the head table, her satin dress a creamy cloud, hands fluttering as she adjusted her grandmother’s hair for the tenth time in a row.
Daniel and I watched from the far end of the ballroom, drinks in hand, our chairs pushed together so close that his knee bumped mine every time I shifted. He looked good in his suit. His tie was already loose, and the top button of his shirt had gone missing somewhere between our first dance and now.
“You’re staring,” he said, catching me in the act. “You thinking about dragging me to the floor, or are you trying to figure out if my tie’s salvageable?”
“I’m debating about whether I should drag you out of here and have my way with you,” I said, followed by a wink. “Also, I’m giving it about five more minutes before Henry does something to top the cake cutting.”
Daniel grinned, that off-center smile that always made his eyes go half-moon. “He’s up to something.” His hand landed on my knee, big and warm, the sort of comforting that made me want to burrow in and never get up. “So, can I convince you to dance? Or are you planning to critique everyone from the sidelines?”
“I’m just waiting for the right song,” I said, which was half a lie. “And maybe for you to gallantly ask me.”
He squeezed my knee once, then stood and extended a hand. “May I have this dance, my lady?”
I took his hand, letting him draw me up, and we wove between tables to the dance floor. Couples circled, twirling through a song I didn’t recognize, but Daniel caught the beat with a confidence that made me suspect he’d practiced at home. He spun me once, then twice, and I nearly tripped over my own heel, which only made him laugh harder.
“I didn’t know you could dance,” I said, letting him draw me close.
“I have many secret talents,” he said. “Some I’ll even demonstrate in public.”
Our rhythm was off, but in the best possible way. I kept stepping on his toes and he kept pretending to die from the pain, which made me laugh, which made him do it again. At one point he dipped me so low that I saw the ceiling upside down, and for a second the entire world was spinning.
“So,” he said, when he’d righted me. “This wedding’s pretty good, huh?”
“Best I’ve ever been to,” I said, and I meant it. “And not just because I get to go home with the hottest guy here.”
He raised an eyebrow. “You’re sure about that? Have you seen Alice’s cousin? He’s wearing a Captain Picard uniform. The confidence, the bald cap. It’s a power move.”
“True,” I conceded. “But can he growl?”
Daniel leaned in until his lips brushed my ear. “You want me to try, right here in front of your brother?”
“Maybe save it for after dessert,” I whispered, feeling my heart race.
He looked at me for a long moment, something gentle in his eyes. “What do you think our wedding would look like?” he said. “If we did one. A real one.”
I blinked, caught off guard. “You mean, hypothetically?”
“Well,” he said, “unless you’re planning to run off with Captain Picard.”
I searched his face for any sign of a joke, but he just looked expectant. I turned the question over in my mind, rolling it around like a marble, and realized I liked the weight of it.
“I think we’d have to go low-key,” I said, finally. “Nothing too big. Maybe just family and a handful of friends. No lightsabers, unless you insist.”
He grinned. “I only insist on the Wookiee band. But I’m flexible.”
I laughed, then sobered. “You’d really want that? With me?”
His smile softened. “Em, I’d marry you tomorrow. Or five years from now. Or never, if that’s what you want. But I want you, and that’s not changing.”
