The officiant took a step forward. “And, now, it is time to make the sacred commitment. Alexander, repeat after me.” He paused. “I, Alexander.”
“I, Alexander.”
“Take thee, Casey.”
“Take thee, Casey.”
“To be my lawfully wedded wife.”
“To be my lawfully wedded wife.”
“In sickness and in health.”
“In sickness and in health.”
“For richer and for poorer.”
“For richer and for poorer.”
“Till death do us part.”
Alexander’s voice was barely above a whisper as he spoke the final words. “Till death do us part.”
My eyes found Alexander’s as I recited my commitment. My vision was clouded with tears by the time I got to, “Till death do us part.”
“By the power vested in me by the state of Georgia, I now pronounce you husband and wife,” the officiant said. He paused to let it sink in. “You may now kiss your bride.”
Before I knew what was happening, Alexander swept me off my feet and dipped me in his arms, laying a perfect kiss on my lips. I stood there, frozen and amazed, as our guests applauded. I’d never seen so many proud, smiling faces in my life. It was a beautiful sight to see. As I tried to soak it all in, Alexander nudged me to follow Liana and Patrick down the aisle. I shook hands and gave quick hugs to everyone in my path as I tried my best not to trip over my dress.
I was married. The man next to me was my husband. I knew in my heart that, with our vows and the sweet looks we gave one another, we’d even convinced those who’d doubted us that we were meant to be.
Chapter 32
Alexander
“Say cheese!” the photographer said for what felt like the hundredth time. At his request, Casey and I posed at least fifteen different ways—back to back, kissing, sitting side by side, prom-style. Casey only had one pose she knew she wanted: one of me kissing the baby bump. “That’s a keeper.”
By the time we got to family pictures, I could hardly feel my jaw. I wondered if this is what celebrities felt like at meet and greets, taking picture after picture without a break. First, we called over my mom and dad to get a picture of the four of us. This photographer, though clearly skilled at his craft, was annoyingly particular, so I wondered what his response would be to my father, whose smile was more a slight grin without his teeth showing.
“Come on, Marc,” the photographer said. “Show me those pearly whites.” It took them a few minutes of bickering back and forth before he finally accepted my dad’s half-assed smile. Next, we got a picture of my entire family with the two of us. I got a group picture with my college buddies, then Casey got a picture with her friends from college. We finished off with a brother picture of me, Connor, and Patrick, and a best friend picture of Casey and Liana. When the photographer finally closed up shop and headed into the reception, I was confident we had enough pictures to fill up five photo albums.
Etta James’ voice blasted through the speakers as Casey and I made our way around the small reception area to greet our guests. I had to admit that Casey had done a lovely job putting everything together, especially considering the tight timeframe she’d been working with. The ballroom had half a dozen round tables surrounding the dance floor, and Casey had made simple but stunning floral centerpieces. I had seen the components lying around the house in the weeks leading up to the wedding, but it was a whole different ballgame seeing how everything came together. Candles, surrounded by lilies, floated atop vases on each table, and different shades of purple and silver completed the room.
I walked over to the back of the room and found some cousins from South Carolina standing by the extensive hors d’oeuvres table. “Thank you so much for coming,” I said, offering up hugs to each of my cousins.
“Congratulations,” Robin, the matriarch of the family, said. “The ceremony was beautiful.”
I smiled. “Thank you. It means so much to have you all here.” I repeated some variation of this same conversation half a dozen times. Casey introduced me to the few cousins she had invited, and I made polite conversation as I thanked them for traveling from New York to come to our wedding.
“You did it, man,” Brett said, coming up from behind me. “Guess that was some damn good advice I gave you at Flanagan’s, huh?”
“I guess so,” I laughed. “Hey, man. Thanks for throwing a kickass bachelor party. Wouldn’t have been the same without you!”
“Anytime, Preston.” Brett’s youngest daughter tugged at his pant leg and begged for him to take her over to get some pigs in a blanket at the hors d’oeuvres table. I chuckled as I realized that would be me in a few years and told Brett I’d catch up with him later. It was time for the introductions.
I’d never understood the whole idea of introductions at weddings, or bar mitzvahs, or sweet sixteen parties. After all, if you had to be introduced to the guest of honor, you probably shouldn’t have been invited. Not to mention, most of the time, the introductions were after they’d already made the rounds. I laughed silently at my own ridiculous internal ramblings.
Filled with an energy that only new husbands must’ve known, I stood in the hallway next to my gorgeous bride as we listened to the emcee rally up the crowd. “You look stunning, babe,” I whispered to Casey. She blushed and offered me a kiss on the cheek.
I had to admit that this wedding was more than I ever could have dreamed of. Sure, I was a guy, and we were naturally inclined to care less about our wedding day, but I still didn’t want it to be a huge disaster. I felt like there was this stigma of having a wedding with a pregnant bride—the whole “shotgun wedding” ideology—and I wanted to break that. Looking at Casey glowing in her dress, I knew we had. Tonight, she wasn’t a pregnant bride. She was just a beautiful bride who happened to be pregnant.
Casey had kept pretty quiet about the venue, so all I’d known coming into our wedding day was the name of the venue and some menu options. I had to admit that the venue having the word “ballroom” in the name had made me a bit nervous—picturing this big, stuffy affair in a room four times too big and expensive for our number of guests—but it was the perfect place for us to celebrate our marriage. We had one of the best DJs in town, a photographer, and a videographer. Nothing felt like it was missing, even with the short amount of time Casey and Liana had had to plan.
I searched my mind for the right way to tell Casey what I was thinking without saying something offensive. “Case,” I started.
“Hush, handsome,” she said. “It’s almost our cue.”
Through the doorway, a muffled voice spoke into the microphone. “Ladies and gentleman, I present to you for the very first time Mr. and Mrs. Preston.” Two uniformed staff members pulled open the double doors as Casey and I made our way on the dance floor. The little waddle she’d been doing since the start of her seventh month was gone, and she was full-on strutting like a runway model.
It brought tears to my eyes as I saw so many important people in my life cheering for me as I began this new adventure. Patrick and Connor were pumping their fists, and Emily cheered alongside one of my college buddies, who she seemed to be hitting it off with. I told myself I had to ask her about that later. To my right, my mom was wiping tears from her eyes with my father’s signature handkerchief.
I focused my attention back to Casey, who was smiling bigger than I’d ever seen her smile before. It made me happy to make her this happy. The first notes of Lonestar’s “Amazed” played as we made our way to the center of the dance floor. Not only was this our first dance as a married couple, but it was also our first dance as a family. Casey’s silky skin felt perfect against the back of my neck as we met halfway between us for a kiss.
The round of applause our guests gave after our kiss caught us both by surprise, and we couldn’t help but laugh. Casey leaned her head back and let out a belly laugh in that way she did that made me thankful she was mine forever. We danced close for the rest
of the song as we whispered into each other’s ears.
“Mr. and Mrs. Preston, ladies and gentlemen,” the emcee said. He turned and looked straight at Casey. “Now it’s time for the father/daughter dance.”
I wished I could have seen the look of horror that had taken over my face as I digested the words. I imagined it was the look that Casey, and Liana, and Emily all had on their own faces. I had to believe that Casey had told the DJ to skip the father/ daughter dance, and that it was simply a human error.
Panicking, I started walking over to the DJ booth, but my father stopped me. The emcee handed him the microphone in a way that told me I was missing something.
“Hello, everyone,” my dad said nervously into the microphone. He wasn’t one for public speaking. “For those of you who don’t know me, I’m Alexander’s father. I first want to thank you all for coming to celebrate my son and his lovely bride.” He paused and cleared the scratchiness in his throat. “As some of you may know, darling Casey never knew her father. All I can say is that he missed out on getting to know a truly remarkable young lady.” I glanced over at Casey, who was choking back tears. “Casey has been such a natural fit with our family since the first time we met her, and I couldn’t have asked for a better match for my son, or a better daughter-in-law for me and my wife, Lynn. So, Casey, I was hoping you’d like to share this dance with me.”
Tears spilled from Casey’s eyes as she nodded and went in for a hug. I tried to contain my own tears as I realized that this was my actual reality. It seemed as though my dad had taken that speech straight out of a movie, but I knew it came from his heart. I watched on in amazement as they glided around the dance floor to Frank Sinatra.
It was my turn next. My mother took my hand as we began slow-dancing to a song I had never heard before. “Did you know Dad was going to do that?” I whispered to Mom.
“Not a clue,” she said with a shrug. “Who knew that, inside that tough exterior of his, there was a big sap?”
I chuckled. “Kind of reminds me of me.” The photographer came up closer to us and we smiled for some pictures. I turned back to mother, who I could tell was holding back tears. “What is it?”
“My little boy is all grown up,” she said. She planted a big, fat kiss on my cheek.
As our song ended, the DJ subtly changed over to something more upbeat. “C’mon everyone,” he yelled into the mic. “Let’s get you all on your feet!” Dancing of any kind was far out of my comfort zone, but I decided that I was the groom, and that meant that no one would care whether or not I had any actual dancing skill. Casey, on the other hand, was a pleasant surprise on the dance floor. She moved as if she forgot there was a watermelon-sized bump in her way. She shook, and shimmied, and did the cha-cha, and joined some of the older guests for some line dancing.
The rest of the reception was a giant blur of pleasantries, food, and more dancing. I lost count of how many guests came up to me and complimented our food choices, saying it was the best food they’d ever had at a wedding. They weren’t exaggerating. The homemade dressing on the venue’s house salad was to die for, and I could have eaten a tub full of the miniature crab cakes. They had a unique flavor I couldn’t quite place, definitely the hit of the party. Though I was interrupted for pictures and conversation at least half a dozen times during my main course, prime rib, I ate enough to know it was outstanding.
As the waiters cleared our dinner plates, I realized that Casey and I had never discussed what we were serving for dessert. I hoped that, in the rush of planning, she had considered something beyond simple wedding cake. I was convinced everyone in the Preston family was born with a sweet tooth. Dessert was our happy place.
I turned toward Casey at our table for two. “Case, what did we decide on for dessert?” I asked. “Please tell me it’s not just cake. You know my family.”
Casey’s lips turned up a playful grin. “You’ll find out in a bit.”
My answer came in the form of a long table filled with sweets. As soon as the emcee announced that dessert was being served, I hopped right in line along with our guests. The lavender tablecloth was barely visible under the trays and trays of cookies, pies, cheesecakes, and cupcakes.
I went down the line and picked out a few desserts for me to try, and a few to bring back to the table for Casey. I decided on blueberry cheesecake and a cupcake for myself, and, for my lady, a slice of apple pie and two white chocolate macadamia cookies, her favorite.
“Yum,” Casey said as she bit into one of the cookies.
I put my hand on top of hers. “Everything is perfect, Casey,” I said. I changed my tone. “Especially this cheesecake.”
Casey looked up from the plate. “You know, I specially requested that they put out full-sized plates at the dessert table. I didn’t want any of those dinky dessert plates that only fit, like, half a piece of something.”
I knew I had picked a good wife.
Chapter 33
Casey
Alexander took my hand and helped me get my pregnant body into the limousine. The words “Just Married” were written in white window marker on the back window, and it was starting to hit me that this was all real life. I felt like a giant, fluffy marshmallow, tucked into my wedding dress with my bump inconveniently placed. We finally settled in, and the driver revved up the car. Like something out of a magazine or movie, all of our guests waved goodbye as we pulled away from the venue and drove off toward our happily ever after.
Ok, so we weren’t exactly going on our honeymoon. That would have to wait until after the baby came. But we’d decided that we still wanted to do something special for our wedding night, so Alexander had gotten us a suite at a nearby hotel and spa. He’d even surprised me earlier in the day by telling me he’d booked me a prenatal massage for the following morning.
For the first time since we’d said “I do”, I got a good look at Alexander. He was handsome and hunky in his black tuxedo, and he looked to be as smitten and happy as I was. “We did it,” I said to him, squeezing his thigh.
“Oh, yes we did, Mrs. Preston,” Alexander smiled.
This all still felt like a dream, one that I never wanted to wake up from. Although I’d never imagined getting married at nearly nine months pregnant, the wedding was everything I could have ever hoped for. It was intimate but exciting, low key but personal. The centerpieces I had put together with Liana looked better than we had expected, and had both admitted to one another at the reception how impressed we were with how’d they turned out.
The wedding was over. I didn’t know how all these brides who had planned for months and years did it. I had only been planning for a month, and it was still so hard to say goodbye to all of the tours and cake tastings and invitations and music samplings. We were onto our next adventure, the nearing arrival of our baby girl.
“What do you think of Aruba?” Alexander asked.
“Huh?” I said, without taking the time to come up with a better response.
Alexander cleared his through. “For our honeymoon.”
I honestly hadn’t given much thought to our honeymoon, as I knew it would be months before we’d even consider booking our trip. My reality was pretty amazing as it was, so a trip to somewhere far away wasn’t a priority. Nonetheless, I indulged Alexander. “Aruba might be nice,” I said.
“Oh, it’s gorgeous,” he replied. “The beaches are magical.”
“You’ve been there before?”
“Twice. Once with my family, and once with some buddies after graduation.” It felt somewhat silly to be discussing our honeymoon while I was in my wedding dress, but it was exciting to think about going somewhere tropical or adventure-ridden with the man I loved. I told him that, before we shot off more ideas, it had to be a place that neither of us had ever been to before.
That was easy for me, as I’d never been out of the country and hadn’t even seen the western half of the United States. Alexander, however, turned out to be quite the world traveler. “The things you lea
rn about someone once you get married,” I joked. He told me that he had been to ten countries or islands outside of the United States, and I watched in amazement as he tried to name them all.
“Let’s see,” he said. “I already mentioned Aruba. Then there was my study abroad in England, my family trip to Turks and Caicos, and my cousin’s wedding in the Bahamas. That’s four. When I was in London, I also took trips to France, Ireland, and Scotland. That makes seven.”
“Yeah, yeah. I get the gist.” I grinned at him to make sure he knew I was joking. Back when my friends in high school and college had talked about all the places they had traveled and vacations they had taken, I had gotten extremely jealous. I’d be naïve to not have realized that they learned to tiptoe around me when they talked about anything exciting or expensive. It was hard to hear about things I worried I’d never experience, experiences I would never have with a nonexistent family. With Alexander, there wasn’t any envy. I felt at ease. I was excited at the prospect of learning about the world through the eyes of someone who had traveled so much of it.
“I’m determined to figure this out,” Alexander said. I pulled his head toward mine and planted a kiss on his lips as he thought. “Thanks for the kiss, wifey.” The emphasis he put on the word sent my heart fluttering.
“Have you been to Greece?” I asked, both because I was hoping to jog his memory, and because I’d always dreamt of going to Greece.
Alexander shook his head. “Not yet, but it’s on my bucket list.”
“Mine too,” I said with a smile. “It just seems like such a beautiful country.”
“Ah, I remember now,” Alexander exclaimed, raising his hand to signal victory. “My family took a cruise in South America when I was in college. We hit Brazil, Peru, and Chile.” I listened in amazement as I envisioned twenty-year-old Alexander parading around Lima with his teenaged siblings. “In hindsight, my parents wasted their money. All four of us kids were too focused on getting drunk and hitting the clubs.”
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