Dad and Paloma’swedding is, by far, the most relaxed one I’ve ever attended. I guess that’s the nice thing about getting remarried in your fifties: you’ve probably seen enough to realize that it’s just one day, and as long as you end up married at the end of it, it went well.
I spend the morning helping Javi put together the flower arch—they got wholesale flowers, and since Javi works at a florist, he put them all together—while Thalia walks around with a clipboard and Bastien, Caleb, and some of their cousins point a lot and move chairs around a little.
The wedding is at an inn toward the southern end of Virginia Beach, right on the water. The room we’re using has huge windows that look out over the dunes and the Atlantic. My dad has bragged more than once to me about what a great deal they got, it being the off-season and all.
When the arch is done, we both step back and look at it. It’s half greenery and half white or pale pink flowers. Some sort of ivy is wrapped around and through everything, and it’s adorned with evergreen branches and pale turquoise berries. It smells like flowers and cedar and looks like it might be the gateway to a fae kingdom.
“That looks great,” I tell Javi.
“Thanks. You think she’ll like it?”
He’s been a little anxious all morning, quieter than usual, so focused he snapped at his sister about a table runner and then apologized immediately. I’m not sure he’s eaten yet today, but his cousin Manny went on a McDonald’s run a couple minutes ago, so he should be back soon.
“She’ll love it,” I say and press a palm to the center of his back.
Everyoneon the groom’s side of the family is ready a full hour before the ceremony is set to begin. There aren’t that many of us—my dad, my aunt Susan and her wife Kate, his best friends Burt and Carl—so we sit around the suite and talk about what Virginia Beach used to be like.
Fifteen minutes before the ceremony is set to start, my dad’s phone alarm goes off. It saysGet married. He stops it, puts the phone on the dresser, then slaps his thighs.
“I guess we better go get started,” he says. There’s some backslapping from his friends and hugs from Susan and Kate.
I wait for them all to file out of the room before I walk over to my dad and pretend to straighten his tie. Suddenly, there’s a lump in my throat and my chest feels tight, which is not what’s supposed to happen at all.
“You nervous?” I ask him, and he chuckles.
“Not even a little.”
“Well, you look good.” I give his tie one last pat. “Can’t have you going out there with a crooked tie.”
“Thanks, kiddo.” I’ve never seen my dad smile quite like that. “And thanks for keeping your old man company all those years.”
It’s really, really weird to hand your parent over to someone else. Especially when it was the two of us for so long. My mom remarried after a couple of years, when I was still a kid, but my dad’s been mostly single this whole time, and we’re pretty close.
But my dad’s so happy he’s practically glowing, so whatever pangs I might be having right now, I can’t be sorry he’s getting married. Besides, now someone else can be the first line of defense against his fashion choices.
“Yeah, of course, Dad,” I say, and then we’re hugging, his arms tight around me.
“You’re still my number one girl,” he says, which is cheesy as hell and makes me tear up anyway. “Always.”
“I love you, too,” I say and swallow hard, then take a deep shaky breath. “And if she hurts you, I know where they keep the nuclear submarines.”
His arms tighten around me.
“No, you don’t.”
“I can find out.”
I get more one rib-crushing squeeze, and then we let go. I’m not crying, but I did wear waterproof mascara.
“Let’s go get you married,” I say, and we head downstairs.
At the ceremony,I sit between Ben and Javi, in the same row as his siblings; this isn’t the kind of wedding that has a bride’s side and a groom’s side. It’s lovely and short and heartfelt, and when I start crying, Ben hands me a tissue and Javi takes my hand. The flower arch looks great. Paloma and my dad both look like nothing better has ever happened to them.
“I’monly dancing with you until they refill the sliders,” Ben says, glancing over my shoulder. “They’re really good.”
“You would abandon me formeat?” I ask, trying to look shocked. “Aslider?”
I may have had a glass of champagne while we took family photos and then maybe another one while they put appetizers out. Javi’s been drinking seltzer with lime and swearing up and down thathe is fine, so I decided to take him at his word. He’s off somewhere, talking to a family member.
