Hitched

by Dawn Rae Miller

  We line up with Fletch and me at the front center. Dad, Mrs. Colson, and Brady stand behind us while Reid and Paige stand next to us.

  "Big smiles," the photographer says.

  I don't think I've stopped smiling since Fletch slipped the ring over my knuckles. Which reminds me, I haven't gotten a good look at the rings. I hold up my hand and admire the ring Fletch picked out for me. It's platinum and the band is encrusted with diamonds. It's beautiful.

  I lift Fletch's hand. His is a simple platinum band. Nothing fancy or fussy. Just like Fletch.

  "Are you ready to face the craziness that's waiting out on the boats? Paige told me you had a panic attack earlier,” Fletch says.

  I throw my shoulders back. "I'm ready whenever you are."

  Fletch scoops me up and kisses my forehead. "I won't let them intrude in our life. I'll get security for you, if that’s what you want."

  "No. I don't think that will be necessary."

  "Okay, then." He sets me down. "Have I told you how beautiful you look?"

  “You did.”

  "Well, I’ll tell you again. You look amazing."

  We link arms, and Brady motions us forward toward an empty patch of sand. Overhead, the helicopter whirls.

  "They're all waiting for a clear shot of the two of you," Brady says. "Give them that, and they’ll probably leave you alone."

  We follow Brady. Sure enough, everyone is calling our names, and it's a bit overwhelming, but I keep holding Fletch's hand, and some of the tension I have dissolves.

  "Can we give them one staged picture?" Fletch says. "I've found that usually calms them down."

  "What are you thinking?" I whisper.

  "A kiss and a good picture of your wedding band."

  I trust Fletch, so I nod. "Like this?" I turn my head up toward his and place my left hand on his chest. He bends down to kiss me and the photographers go crazy. When we're done, I hurry to the covered pavilion. Not even the helicopter can see me in here.

  Fletch is right after me, and when we arrive under the pavilion, he takes me in his arms, spins me around, and kisses me. I’m pretty sure my heart is going to explode.

  When we surface for air, Fletch says, "You know, we never discussed where we will live."

  "I know," I say, closing my eyes and allowing myself to savor the tenderness of this moment.

  Fletch places his thumb under my chin. I flutter my eyes open, I'm so drowsy, I could fall asleep right here, right now.

  "I'll move to Boston, if that's what you want."

  Is that what I want? "I hate my job, and I like the weather in San Francisco so much better than Boston," I say. "But what will I do for a job? I need something that makes me more than just Fletch Colson's wife. I need to be my own person."

  "You could try for grad school, or look for a new job. I know of a bunch of boards you could sit on or charities that need help."

  “If I move to San Francisco, I’d want to have my own job,” I say. "If you came to Boston, would you continue to run GroundFloor?"

  "Yes, but we'd open a Boston branch. A smallish office. Some place for me to go so I'm not cooped up in our house all day."

  "That sounds…" I caress Fletch's arm. "It sounds terrible."

  "So San Francisco?"

  I smile at him. "I think we can make that work."

  "You know I still live with my mom, right?"

  I'd totally forgotten about that part. "We'll need to get our own place."

  "Absolutely."

  “How upset is she about all this?” I ask.

  Fletch swallows hard. “The honest answer? She’s pissed. She was hoping I’d finally come around and marry Calista.”

  “Oh.”

  Fletch kisses my forehead. “Don’t worry, Ellie. She’ll change her mind about us.”

  "Do you think this will ever die down?" I ask, jabbing my thumb over my shoulder.

  "Eventually. Just like people stopped caring about Calista and me."

  I raise my eyebrows. "Then how come the two of you were always on tabloid covers?"

  He shrugs. "We're both good-looking?"

  I punch him in the arm.

  "Too soon?" he asks.

  "Too soon," I answer. "How long do you think she’ll stay?"

  Fletch bites his lower lip. "Her flight out isn't until tomorrow, and she didn't mention trying to get an earlier flight when I told her what was happening today."

  “I saw her sitting with your mom,” I say.

  Fletch nods. “Yeah, she told me she’d be there.”

  "How'd she take the news?" I ask, wanting to know how different our interactions with Calista had been.

  "She told me you'd never be enough for me."

  I nod. "She said the same to me."

  "What?"

  "She came by my room and told me that you'd never be happy with just me."

  Fletch pulls me closer. "Don't ever believe that, okay? I'll never be happy with anyone but you."

  I must tense up because Fletch drops my hand and begins kneading my shoulder. "It's all under control, Elle."

  Dad slides up to us with a huge grin on his face.

  “I’m the only old person here,” Dad says.

  "You're not old, Dad," I say. “Besides, Mrs. Colson and Brady's parents are here. They'll join us, won't they Brady?"

  Brady laughs. "They're relieved I'm off the hook. Any wedding is better than mine, in their opinion."

  The late afternoon light shifts to something more filtered and less harsh. It's like someone is slowly covering the sky with lemonade.

  "We still have the band," Fletch says. "And one pavilion."

  "Such an extravagant party for less than ten people," I say.

  "But so much fun!" Brady scoops me up and runs me around the dance floor. "Is there a law about stealing someone's bride?"

  I toss my head back and laughter tumbles out of me. When Brady sets me down, I get a good look at the pavilion.

  The huge head table has been shrunk to a table for two. The band is still full-sized, as is the catering staff.

  Thank God Sophie has great taste. The colors - sand, pale blue, and white - look breathtaking, and the outdoor room glows from hundreds of candles scattered about.

  "All this for us?" I say.

  Fletch drapes his arm over my shoulder. "I hope you like it. I was working with what I had."

  "It's perfect."

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  The band plays as Fletch and I make our way across the dance floor to our table.

  “I’m starving.” I've haven’t eaten since breakfast, and it's caught up to me. My hands shake slightly. “You can probably hear my stomach growling.”

  Fletch tugs at his bow tie, unraveling it. “I can’t hear anything except the beating of my heart.”

  Okay, so it may be cheesy, but it hits me right where it’s suppose to, and I melt just a little more.

  "We should eat," Fletch says, noticing my hands. When we drove across the country, he learned that if I don't eat on a regular schedule, my blood sugar levels plummet, and my attitude gets a little less than friendly.

  Music swirls around us, and I sway side-to-side with a little smile on my lips.

  "Someone's in a good mood for barely eating today," Fletch says as he holds out a chair for me. I sit, and he pushes me in. The table is set beautifully with gold flatware, pale blue plates, and a tea lights in khaki colored lanterns.

  I’m in awe that this is really my wedding.

  Two waiters appear behind Fletch and me. Each holds a covered plate. They set them down in unison and remove the lids. “Beets with candied walnuts, goat cheese, and watercress,” the waiter nearest me announces.

  “Why did you pick this?” I ask Fletch.

  "We could only get Brady and Sophie’s menu. I hope you don't mind?"

  "No. No, its fine. I’ve never had beets before."

  "I hope you like it," Fletch says. "It would be a shame to not like the food served at your wedding.” H
e stabs a beet and pops it in his mouth.

  Always one to try new things, I too place a beet in my mouth. It tastes amazing.

  The next course comes quickly.

  This time it’s lobster ravioli. Since I had lobster the other night, I know I’ll like this. I bite into one of the plump pillows of dough and nearly moan in delight. It’s amazing. Much better than the beets.

  As I'm eating, it occurs to me there’s no way Fletch did most of this himself. Especially when he was out running errands and picking up his mom. Which means…

  "Who did all of this? The catering? The band? The decor?”

  Fletch swallows his bite of food before taking a sip of wine. "Calista."

  "Calista?" He can't be serious. I thought she was just assisting, not running the show.

  Fletch nods. "She offered to help, so I let her run with it. Looks like she did a good job."

  "But why, Fletch? Why would you give her such control over our special day when she hates me. ”

  “Because she loves me in her own way. She's been my friend my whole life. She may be jealous of you, but she'd never intentionally hurt me." He pauses. “And because it gave her something to do other than harass you.”

  Bubbles of anger grow in my gut. After the conversation she and I had earlier today, I highly doubt Calista did all this out of the goodness of her heart. But…and here's the hard part, I can't tell Fletch to never see her again, or can I? Granted they have too much history, but maybe Fletch will understand that having Calista around isn’t the best thing for our marriage. Besides, maybe with time, she'll move on. Hell, maybe she'll marry Brady herself.

  Stranger things have happened.

  "Where is she?" I ask, looking around.

  "Probably in her room."

  So, she didn't want to see the fruits of her labor after sitting through our ceremony.

  I almost feel bad for Calista. Almost. But not enough to say it aloud.

  Perhaps she'll go back to France, and leave us alone. Who knows?

  After the waiters clear our last dish – no dessert yet, that’s what the towering cake is for – Fletch stands and offers me his hand. "Should we have our first dance, Mrs. Colson?"

  “Of course.”

  He leads me out to the dance floor and signals to the bandleader. At Last begins playing, and Fletch wraps his arm around my waist. I stare up into his green eyes, and drown in them. Fletch presses his check against mine, and he leads me around the dance floor.

  Our friends and family clap and whistle when Fletch dips me backward before kissing me softly on the lips.

  I spin away from him. His hair is mussed, and he looks amazing. My husband looks amazing. The word rolls around my brain, unable to fully grasp it. Husband. I glance at my hand, at my ring.

  How much things have changed in three days. I came here expecting to ignore Fletch or be ignored by him. Instead, I'm now standing under a beautiful pavilion, in a white dress, with a wedding ring on my finger. I can't quite wrap my mind around it.

  "Hey, what's going on in that brain of yours?"

  "I'm so happy, Fletch. So very happy. With you. With us."

  He pulls me to his chest and tucks my head under his chin. "I feel like I'm finally home," he says. "All this time without you, I've felt lost. Untethered. Let me tell you, free floating through life isn't fun."

  "I understand." And I do. When Fletch walked out of my life, a huge hole opened in my heart, and I tried to fill it in all the wrong ways. I wanted to feel weighted down by Fletch. His absence was almost unbearable.

  His arms circle my waist as the band switches songs.

  “May I have this dance?” Dad says, cutting in on Fletch.

  “Of course.” Fletch lets go of me, and I turn toward my dad.

  “Look at you,” Dad says. “It’s just now hitting me that you’re not my little girl anymore.” Tears well in his eyes, and I brush them away.

  “Don’t make me cry, Dad.”

  “I won’t.” We sway from side-to-side in a little circle. “Sorry I’m not a fancy dancer like Fletch.”

  “This is perfect,” I say. “I’m so, so, so happy you’re here. That you got to be part of the ceremony.”

  “I wouldn’t have missed it for anything.”

  The band’s music changes to something more up-tempo.

  “I’m going to give you back to the groom now. But don’t forget, Elle, you’ll always be my little girl.”

  “And you’ll always be my dad.”

  Dad kisses the top of my head. “I love you, Ellie.”

  “Love you more,” I answer.

  Dad motions to Fletch and releases me to him.

  “Take care of my girl,” he says.

  “I will, Mr. Jacobs.”

  “Jack,” Dad says. “You can call me Jack.” He smiles at us before returning to his seat.

  Strains of the band's music float around Fletch and me, and Fletch holds my body still against his. "This, right now, is the most perfect moment of my life."

  "I have a feeling there are going to be a lot of perfect moments in our future," I say, touching his nose with my fingertip. The years stretch out before us, and I'm not afraid. I can envision Fletch and I sitting on a porch in rocking chairs watching our grandchildren play.

  “Okay, lovebirds, there are other people here,” Brady steals me away from Fletch. “And I’d also like to point out that you skipped the speeches part of the program.”

  I hold up my hands. “Oh no you don’t. Not after what you did last time you made a speech.”

  Brady chuckles. “Maybe my speech at graduation was a bit much.” He holds his fingers up and curls his forefinger toward his thumb. “But I’ve matured.”

  I lean in closer to Brady. “I swear, if you so much as imply Fletch and I have had sex, I will beat you.”

  Brady knits his brows together. “But you have. Lots of times.”

  “Brady,” I say in exasperation. “This is not the time or place. My dad is here.”

  This time Brady laughs. Hard. “Ellie is worried about what Daddy will think.”

  I slug him on the shoulder.

  “Hey,” Fletch says, walking up to us. “Are you aggravating my bride?”

  “Yes and no,” Brady says. “I want to make a speech.”

  Fletch bows with a flourish. “Have at it my friend.”

  “Seriously. All I had to do was ask you?”

  “Just no repeats of the Harker speech.”

  Brady grins. “At least this time my parents can’t ground me.”

  The sinking feeling in my gut grows. Whatever he has planned, it can’t be good.

  Brady grabs a nearby glass and a fork. He clinks the two together. “Ladies and gentlemen, I have a few things I’d like to say.”

  Across the room, Paige’s eyes grow wide, and she vigorously shakes her head no. At least someone else thinks this is a bad idea.

  Brady is undeterred. “I've known Fletch since we were fourteen. That's nearly ten years. Ten years of listening to him talk about girls.

  I've heard it all. And seen a lot of it too.

  But it wasn't until Ellie came along that I saw a shift in Fletch. He stopped being such a womanizer and started caring about weird stuff. Like feelings, and honestly, Ellie. She somehow went from being the bra-less girl hanging out on the beach, to the ball-buster who didn't give into his charms, to the love of his life.

  I've never seen two people more miserable than I have over the past two years. Fletch threw himself into work, Ellie into guys and alcohol.” I cringe. "Sorry, Elle, but you know its true." I motion him to continue.

  "Anyway, what I'm trying to say is, finally. Finally. I can sleep at night without wondering if Fletch and Ellie will ever get together again."

  So far, so good. My shoulders relax a little.

  “That’s all I have except this: have fun consummating your marriage tonight.” He smirks while heat fans across my cheeks and into my ears.

  Fletch stands up. “Tha
nks for that, Brady. And here I thought you were doing so well.” Fletch reaches out and puts Brady into a headlock. In years past, Fletch would have been too scrawny to hold Brady, but his new, more muscular physique can hold up to Brady’s brawn easily.

  “Isn’t there a cake that needs to be eaten?” Paige says, pointing to the magnificent cake directly across from the stage.

  “The last thing I want is to be covered in cake,” I say.

  Fletch gives a half-hearted shrug. “I promise I won’t smash any cake in your face.”

  “Thanks, I always can depend on you,” I say sarcastically.

  “C’mon, Elle. It’s tradition.”

  “Fine.”

  We walk over to the table holding the multiple tiered cake. Decorative marzipan sea shells cover it.

  “It’s beautiful,” I say. “Just like ever other part of our wedding.”

  Fletch picks up the gold cake knife, and I place my hand over his.

  “One,” Paige counts. “Two. Three!”

  Fletch and I press into the bottom layer of the lavish cake. He picks up the knife, and my hand and we cut the other side, creating a wedge of cake. I let go of his hand, and he slips the knife underneath the slice of cake and pulls it out.

  Then he looks at me with that mischievous look I know so well, and I run to the other side of the table. “Oh no, you don’t. You promised.”

  Fletch laughs and takes a huge bite out of the cake. After he swallows, he says, “It’s really good. And I know you love sweeties.”

  He’s appealing to my sweet tooth, and he knows it. “Fine,” I say, walking back around the table. “But you better not smash it in my face.”

  “Scouts honor,” he holds up three fingers.

  “Don’t listen to him, Ellie. He was never a scout.” Mrs. Colson calls from her table. It catches me off guard, and I almost ask if she actually spoke.

  Despite her warning, I creep closer to Fletch. He holds out a plate to me. “I promised I wouldn’t smash cake in your face, and I’m a man of my word.”

  I snatch the plate and jump back. Fletch laughs.

  “Who else wants cake,” he says.

  Paige, Reid, and Brady line up. The older adults wait at their tables. Fletch cuts cake for everyone.

  I sit down at my table, and with a new setting of gold flatware, take a bite of my cake. It’s amazing.