Three Stupid Weddings
Page 13
Dom laughed, blushing a little. “Well, I kind of got a surprise for you too.”
“Did you?”
“Mmhmm.” He flashed a wicked grin. “You’ll see.”
He didn’t keep me waiting long. As soon as we arrived at the grange hall we’d rented for the reception, and after we’d switched out our tux jackets for Jedi robes, Dom took my hand and led me over to where the caterers were setting up.
And he didn’t have to say a word. One look at the table in the center, and my jaw fell open.
The multi-layered cake stood in the middle of a table just like any classy wedding cake should, but instead of a single cake topper, it had several. One on top, four around the second layer, more around the bottom layer. And every single one was a couple with one or both of them trying to escape somehow. Some of them even stuck out sideways, supported by strategically placed plastic flowers. There were even a few on the table, their stands masked by napkins as they made their apparent getaways. It was the most ridiculous thing I’d ever seen, and I loved it.
I looked at him, eyes wide. “I can’t believe you remembered.”
“You remembered I wanted BB-8 as a ring bearer.”
“How could I forget?”
Dom put an arm around my shoulders and kissed my forehead. “Just like I couldn’t forget about the cake topper mayhem you wanted.”
I leaned against him, staring at the cake with tears in my eyes. It was a silly thing, much like our ring bearer droid, but it meant more than I could say. He’d remembered. It was something I’d said one time in passing while we’d been lying in bed after Andrea’s wedding, and he’d tucked it away and remembered. It occurred to me now that if I’d married someone else, Dom probably would have told him about the cake topper thing because he knew I wanted it.
But I hadn’t married someone else. I’d married the man who cared enough to know all the silly little things as well as all the big important things and deep, dark secrets.
So people aren’t kidding when they say you should marry your best friend.
Our wedding had been a mix of traditional and, uh, not, and it was perfect. I couldn’t think of a single thing I’d have changed, and I wondered how there had ever been a time in my life when I hadn’t seen myself married to this man someday. It was so weird to imagine that one night, we’d lain in bed talking about hypothetical future weddings, and it hadn’t even dawned on me that in less than a year, we’d be getting married.
I’d found the love of my life. I’d married my best friend.
And our dorky, this-is-so-us wedding was just the icing on an amazing cake.
The End.
About the Author
Ann Gallagher is the slightly more civilized alter ego of L.A. Witt, Lauren Gallagher, and Lori A. Witt. So she tells herself, anyway. When she isn't wreaking havoc on Spain with her husband and trusty two-headed Brahma bull, she writes romances just like her wilder counterparts, but without all the heat. She is also far too mature to get involved in the petty battle between L.A. and Lauren, but she's seriously going to get even with Lori for a certain incident that shall not be discussed publicly.
Website: www.gallagherwitt.com
Email: gallagherwitt@gmail.com
Twitter: @GallagherWitt