by Hazel Parker
“Uh, to marry you?” I said, thinking it was somehow a trick question.
“Yes, but what, exactly did I say?”
“Will you marry me…”
Oh, boy…
“Now? Like, now, now?”
“Not now, now,” Brett said. “But you may want to keep next weekend open. I’ll get plane tickets booked for you.”
“To where?”
* * *
One Week Later
“Las Vegas, huh?”
As we stepped out of McCarren Airport and into the desert nighttime, with the casino lights visible from just about any place within a few dozen miles, Brett held my hand, looking as giddy as he had when he had first heard me say yes to him. Though one week was obviously not enough time for my belly to have expanded, now that I knew Brett would be around as a father, it almost felt like my body had become more comfortable with being pregnant.
“Well, I figured there’s no time like the present,” Brett said. “We stay in California, it’ll take some time. We come here, we do it now.”
I could only shake my head in disbelief.
“We really don’t do anything normal, do we?”
“When have we ever done anything ‘normal?’” Brett said. “And what’s the fun in that? Date for a couple of years, then get married? Nah. I know who I love. I’d rather do it now.”
I just laughed. What more could I do at this point? Three months ago, the name “Brett Ferrari” meant nothing to me. Maybe three years from now, that name would feel more like a curse and less like a husband. But for now?
A black limo pulled up.
“That’s our ride,” Brett said.
The driver got out, opened the back door for us, and we slid in. As soon as I got in, I recognized someone in the back.
“Nick, you motherfucker,” Brett said as he went in to hug his brother and what looked like his fiancé. “Thanks for coming out.”
“Someone had to witness this,” he said. “Just be glad it came during an off weekend for us. Chelsea, a pleasure again. This is my fiancé, Izzy.”
We shook hands, sharing a look of understanding. No one got involved with a Ferrari and lived a normal life, it seemed.
“It’ll just be the four of us tonight,” Brett said.
“Wait, tonight?”
We’re getting married...tonight?
“I told you I didn’t want to wait,” Brett chuckled. “We’ve got a room at the Bellagio. We’ve arranged for an officiant to come and marry us in one of the private rooms. The elders won’t like it, but, hey, we can always have a formal one later. And after...we can go clubbing or something.”
“I don’t even have a dress!”
“I got you covered,” Brett said.
Oh, my God, this was crazy! Brett had everything lined up already? Had he been that sure that I was going to say yes to getting married early?
I suppose in a world in which you were expected to get engaged six months after meeting, deciding to “break the rules” by getting married after, what, a little over a month and a half, was within the bounds of...something?
I just stopped asking questions. It was going to be far more enjoyable if I just went with the flow and let whatever happened, happen. And so in our limo ride down to the Bellagio, I learned that Nick and Izzy were expecting a child; that Nick was kind of jealous that Brett was beating him down the aisle, but that it was only a sibling, fun kind of jealousy; and that Nick was considering moving even further out of the city so that the two of them could raise their child in a more secluded area.
I didn’t know much about Nick, but one thing I could pick up on was that even though Brett was the older sibling, he had a lot of respect for his younger brother. I wouldn’t say Nick commanded the limo, but I would say his points did not get ignored, and attention was given to whatever he said.
The fountains of the Bellagio finally came into view, and the limo pulled off of Las Vegas Boulevard.
“By the way,” Brett said. “You know how I said it was the four of us?”
“Yeah?”
“Well, I sort of lied,” he said. “But you’ll see! It’s good!”
I glared at him with faux anger. Every time something new came up, it ultimately ended up being a blessing, even if in the moment it caused a ton of stress—such as the baby growing inside of me.
The doors were opened, bags were collected from the trunk, and we walked inside.
“Follow me,” Brett said.
We went through the Oriental-themed luxury casino, ignoring the cacophony of sounds, reveling gamblers, and cocktail waitresses offering cheap, watered-down mixed drinks. We made it to the elevators, where Brett pushed for the top floor.
“I thought you said there would be more of us?” I asked.
Brett didn’t say a word.
And then the elevator doors opened.
And standing there, much to my shock, were my father and my best friend, Amanda.
Chapter 23: Brett
I had to admit, I was terrified that just because Chelsea’s father had agreed to arrange this whole deal didn’t mean he wouldn’t find me a complete ass.
But when I had called him mid-week to ask him if he wanted to come, not only did he agree, he did so enthusiastically. Amanda, too, though she asked many, many questions I could not answer—mostly because with Uncle Nick, I’d played dumb.
Now, seeing Chelsea scream with excitement and hug her father and her best friend, it wouldn’t have mattered how he and Amanda would have reacted to my request. It wasn’t about me, not anymore. It was about Chelsea.
“Amanda will help you get ready,” I said. “Nick and I have to go get ready on our end. We’ll see you at the venue.”
“I still can’t believe you’d have us get off the plane and just get married.”
“No time like the present,” I said, giving her one last kiss before we split in different directions down the hall.
Technically, Chelsea and I had our own room at the far end of one of the hallways, but for now, I was in the room of Nick and Izzy. We couldn’t keep the tradition of only seeing each other the moment she walked down the aisle, but we could do everything but.
“You know,” Nick said as he put his arm around me. “I thought you were a crazy fuck when you actually got her for an arranged marriage. But now I know you’re a crazy fuck for doing this shotgun wedding in Vegas! And yet, I can see you care for her.”
“Hey, we could make it two.”
Nick chuckled.
“Izzy would murder me if I tried to get her to marry me in Vegas.”
“Fat chance,” she said.
“One of us has to be the normal grandchild for the Ferraris,” he said. “If we all get shotgun married in Vegas, it might raise some suspicions. Can’t have that with how Alf is with the will.”
“Maybe,” I said. Or, maybe, I’m past caring about the will. Catalyst for this, sure. Reason still for this? No.
My love for Chelsea is.
Nothing more.
* * *
I stood at the altar of the Little White Wedding Chapel, a small building that probably could have easily been re-purposed for a fast-food restaurant if the owners wanted it to. “Little” was not just a marketing description; it really was little, easily missed without the signs on the side of the road. Part of me wondered if Chelsea would later come to resent me for throwing a wedding like this.
But if it came to that...I had no problems doing a big marriage before the entirety of our families, in a more traditional setting. The glee with which she’d acted when she saw her father and Amanda put me at ease. There wasn’t anything more that Chelsea, it seemed at least, wanted.
To my left was my brother and the best man, Nick. Naturally, we’d traded barbs all the way through, with me teasing him that I beat him to the altar, and him taunting me that Alf would mock me for my choice of wedding. The fact that we had no sacred cows in our tormenting of each other was all I needed to have to know things
would be just fine.
“You’re ready?” he whispered into my ear the moment before Chelsea walked out.
I pursed my lips and widened my eyes. Was I?
Honestly, probably not.
There was nothing logical about this. There was nothing rational about anything, from the timing of the wedding to the arranged marriage part to...well, fuck, even Chelsea working for me, though at least we’d found some slightly more challenging work for her. Any detached person could look at this, say it was fucking crazy, and they would have completely valid points.
But the thing was, I wasn’t detached. I was very attached. And I knew with Chelsea and I, that even though we were not ready, we would work with and support each other to become ready. Maybe that’s what we really needed; not to feel like we had all the answers, but that we could support each other as we strove to find the answers. That part, I could say yes to.
“I think you are.”
Nick was just being polite. But it was appreciated all the same.
“Here Comes the Bride” started playing. Izzy, the only person in the audience, rose.
My eyes watered. I took a deep breath. For as rushed as we had been to get to this point, now that we were here, there was nothing I would not have traded to slow down time. It felt like even though there would be other people in the room, the only other person in my line of sight was Chelsea—or the spot where she would come out. A spotlight would not literally be on her, but for how focused I was on her, it would be.
And then, she emerged.
I bawled, shedding tears of joy, at the sight of her. In that instant of seeing her in her white bridal dress, with her hair braided back, somehow put together after a flight and very short notice, I knew that I had made the right choice. I truly, genuinely did not care what anyone said; even if Grandpa felt the whole thing reeked of farce and threatened to cut me out of the will, I did not care. This love...this was worth more than millions of dollars. It was worth more than anything else. It was worth an amount that could not be quantified.
My only regret was that it took an arranged marriage to realize this. But I was grateful that within the confines of something arranged, I had taken life by the horns and made it my own. I had taken the initiative.
Chelsea’s eyes fell to mine, and from that moment forward, until the end of the ceremony, we never broke contact. I was looking at the most beautiful soul in the world, the one whom I had survived a tempestuous period of weeks with to get here. Yeah, emotion was running high. I’d be more concerned if it wasn’t right now than if it was.
I felt Nick pat my shoulder, but I paid him no mind. Chelsea’s father was biting his lip, trying not to cry. When Chelsea got to me, she, too, had shed a couple of tears. She took my hand as the music started to wind down.
“We made it,” I said.
“We made it,” she repeated back.
Izzy and Chelsea’s father sat down, watching the ceremony take place. I could hear the minister saying his words; I knew when to respond and when to say, “I do,” but everything was a blur. I was reading the story of what was to come in Chelsea’s eyes, and it filled me with hope and excitement unlike anything I had ever experienced. I would get to be a father, a husband, a man...I’d get to be so many things.
And Chelsea...she’d get to be a mom, a wife, a growing woman...I mean, never had I felt so sure in my life.
“You may now kiss the bride.”
It was about the only thing I heard in full detail, and when I moved in to kiss her, I felt like I was not just kissing Chelsea; I was merging with her soul, declaring that we were now one, and that we would have each other’s back forever. The crowd cheered, I squeezed her tight, and we pulled back, grinning ear to ear like idiots.
Finally, we looked around. Finally, we were a couple.
Finally, we were married—not because an agreement had taken place, but because we had wanted to be married. It was the best feeling I had ever had in my life.
* * *
“Look at us.”
I stood on the balcony of our suite in the Bellagio, with a small party going on behind us. The guest list was still only as long as the wedding invite list had been, but even now, with just the two of us standing outside, it felt like we had formed our own little world. I was still dressed in my tux, and she was still in her wedding dress.
“What about us?” Chelsea said, a huge grin on her face.
“Just...look.”
I didn’t mean anything special by what I said. I didn’t have a grand speech lined up. I just wanted Chelsea to, quite literally, look at us. To capture the moment forever in our minds. We’d have photos on our phones, sure, but that wasn’t the same. What we kept in our heads, in our minds, that was forever.
“I love what I see,” Chelsea said as she put her hand on my cheek. “And I think I’ll love it forever.”
It was absolutely perfect.
The fallout wouldn’t be. But right now, I barely thought of that. I only thought of—
“Brett.”
I pulled back, annoyed, at the presence of my brother.
“We were having a moment, Nick,” I said with a smirk, but the amused expression was fading rapidly when I saw Nick’s face. He looked like someone had been shot.
“We gotta get back to San Francisco tonight,” he said. “Grandma’s in the hospital. Something is wrong.”
“What?” I gasped.
She had seemed perfectly fine just last week when we had gone to Voltaire’s. Granted, at her age, things could go wrong in a hurry, but still...“a hurry” usually meant over the course of a few weeks, not a few days.
“Did you find out what?”
“No, they just said she fell ill and weak at home and took her in. It doesn’t sound like it’s something minor, Brett.”
I bit my lip. I hated to say it, but a part of me really wondered if I should just stay and put it out of mind until a couple of days had passed. I had to imagine that if Grandma were witnessing me having this internal debate, she would tell me to stay in Las Vegas, enjoy myself with my bride, and worry about her later.
But the answer got made for me.
“You should go,” Chelsea said. “I’ll keep everyone else entertained. You two can head back to San Francisco.”
“But—”
“No buts, Brett,” Chelsea said. “We have all our lives to celebrate our wedding. I don’t know what happened, but you have to assume the worst, that after tonight…”
Grandma won’t be around. Nick wouldn’t be telling us we gotta get back tonight if she had just cut herself cooking or something. Damnit.
“OK,” I said with a heavy sigh. “Nick, give me two minutes.”
Nick nodded and shut the door. I could see him talking to Izzy, but that was but a mere glance as I looked back at Chelsea.
“I’m sor—”
“Don’t be,” she said. “You’ve already given me the greatest gift a girl could ask for in marriage.”
Oh, Chelsea, how did I get so lucky?
“Did you plan a honeymoon yet?”
“No, I’m not that good.”
“Then allow me,” she said. “You go take care of your grandmother. I’ll worry about everything here and the honeymoon. You’ve done so much for me, Brett. Let me do something for you.”
Oh, I hated this. I hated having to cut short a once-in-a-lifetime event like this. I hated it.
But I knew it was necessary.
“Thank you, Chelsea,” I said. “I knew I made a great decision in marrying you. I love you.”
“And I love you too, Brett,” she said, kissing me gently on the lips. “Go see your grandmother. I promise I’ll take care of everything else.”
* * *
We never even got the chance to change, that’s how much of a hurry Nick had us in. I tried to sleep on the private jet over, but my mind was racing, and even if I could, I was in wedding clothes; they weren’t exactly the type of thing that one could just take a nap in and w
ake up recharged.
The instant we landed, we had a taxi waiting for us to take us to the hospital. Nick threw a hundred dollars at the guy, the better to avoid delays, and the two of us walked purposefully and hurriedly through the hallways of the hospital. Nick read off the text confirming where they were.
“Third floor, oncology unit,” he said. “Room 3188.”
We followed the signs down, but even if the rooms were unmarked, we could see that we’d found the right spot, because outside, I saw something that I didn’t ever think I’d see in my life.
Leo, the brother I had always called the black sheep of the family, the asshole, the one who did everything he could to tarnish the family name, was slumped against the wall, tears in his eyes. Layla was by his side, embracing him, and she, too, looked like she was crying. Are we too late? Is she already gone?
Uncle Frank stepped out of the room, looked at us, and walked over.
“Is she…”
“No,” he said. “She’s still awake. But you boys were right to come tonight—why the hell are you dressed like that?”
“Long story,” I said.
“Christ,” he said. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you’d gotten hitched, Brett.”
A story for another time.
“Come on. Dad’s inside with Mom.”
Nick and I walked into the room, and what we saw frightened us.
Alf was holding Mary’s hand while she lay on the bed. Truthfully, aside from the fact that we were in a hospital, Grandma looked very peaceful, almost at complete ease. Even Grandpa, to some extent, looked understanding and content with the situation.
But in the corner, his hands folded in his lap and an angry look on his face, my father sat. My mother was nowhere to be seen.
“Thanks for coming, boys,” Grandpa said. “Although you didn’t have to get dressed up.”
“Alf,” Mary said. “You never know what these boys are up to. Let them be dressed up.”
Grandpa chuckled as he squeezed his wife’s hand. That. I hope that that is my future for the next fifty, sixty years.