by Harper Riley
Inside it’s hollow, and, on a red pillow, there’s a gorgeous gold ring.
I gasp.
“Torrie,” Gav says.
He’s down on one knee, taking the ring in his palm. Finally, he is looking at me, speaking the words the expression on his face is already saying, “Torrie, my love, my light, my darling angel. As soon we met, I knew there was something different about you. Something remarkable. I’ve met many women and known many people, but none of them have come even close to moving me how you do. You’re everything I’ve ever wanted. You’re funny, irreverent, passionate, outspoken, beautiful, and I love every part of you. Every time I see you it’s never enough. I miss you even when you’re here, even when you’ve gone to the bathroom or are talking to a friend. It’s ridiculous and I can’t help it. I love you more than words can express. You are my best friend and my sexy lover and my favorite person in the world. I’ve never been anywhere near this happy, and there’s only one way you can make me even happier.”
He raises his hand with the ring.
“Torrie, will you do me the incredible honor of being my wife?”
I gape at Gav, at the tear-filled eyes of the man I’ve never seen cry, at the trembling hand of the courageous fighter I’ve never seen afraid.
I gaze at the ring, the stunning, ornate, vintage-looking waves of rose gold with little flowers embedded in it, the gleaming cylinder of diamond.
I take his other hand, and a hysterical laugh escapes out of my lips, along with the words, “Yes! Oh God, of course yes Gav!”
He seizes me and spins me around, spins me round and round and round, as we both cry out laughter.
Then we grasp hands and race through the restaurant, past the goggle-eyed maître d’, past the empty tables (that now suddenly make sense), back into our room.
When he finally puts me down, both of us out of breath, I lower my hand and spread my fingers.
Gavin slips on the ring slowly.
Or maybe everything is happening slow-motion because I want it to, because I want to savor this moment, this beautiful sweet moment as the beaming man I love slips this symbol of his love on my shaking finger.
When it’s on, he looks up at me, rises, takes my face in his hands and kisses me.
We kiss and all of me fuses into him. We kiss and I relax into it, into this man who is mine. Who is here for me and always will be.
Chapter 38 - Gavin
Crazy how time flies.
Seems just yesterday that Il was slipping the ring on Torrie’s lithe finger, turning all her fear into joy. Seems just yesterday that we were sitting down with our domineering wedding planner, arguing about venues and dates, about how I want to have a best man but Torrie doesn’t want a maid of honor.
But it has been six months now, and our wedding is tomorrow. Torrieght is the rehearsal dinner.
As our limo takes us to the church, I repeat the words to myself in my head, unable to quite believe them: My wedding is tomorrow. Torrieght is the rehearsal dinner.
Torrie squeezes my hand.
“I love you,” she says.
The limo has a mirror ceiling revealing a secret view of the cleavage of my wife-to-be, a cup-holder for roses for my wife-to-be, and the woman herself.
God, is she beautiful.
Even in her “lazy” satin tracksuit, red top and bottom, I can’t help but kiss her.
Seems a second later that the limo door is opening and we have to separate and leave.
Her hand in mine is a nice consolation as we walk through the church doors.
Still, I glide into the church seeing nothing but her, her red-lipped smile, her mocha eyes. Once inside the church, however, my sight returns.
Pip was right to recommend Saint Xavier Francis College Church.
Magnificent. That’s the first word that comes to mind when gazing upon the masterpiece before me. The rest is only feelings, sights: the sky-high domed ceiling - awe, the host of column-supported arches along the sides – wonder, the dance of colors on the stained-glass windows - gratitude. Everywhere I look is another exquisite detail, another expertly rendered gargoyle, another stained-glass window so vibrantly incredible that I force myself to look away.
A hand on my back. Torrie, smiling.
“It’s amazing, isn’t it?”
I nod, still not tearing my gaze away from an expertly-carved angel near the altar.
“The pictures didn’t do it justice.”
She pats my back, says softly, “The priest wants to begin, Gav.”
I glance at her, then turn around to find our entire wedding party waiting.
For a minute, I gape at them, my gaze sliding from Hannah’s glowing rosy face, to Carlos’ surly one, to Maria Fernanda’s shy smile, Pulse’s skeletal smirk and Jaws’ ear-to-ear grin.
I hadn’t even realized that they were there.
“Pip told us to shut it,” Jaws says by way of explanation.
Everyone laughs, and a man in a Hawaiian t-shirt and sandals walks up to us.
“Great, so everybody’s here. Let’s begin.”
I eye him uncomprehendingly, and, with a patient smile, he explains, “I’m Father O’Mally. We spoke on the phone.”
“Oh,” I find myself saying.
I shoot a glance at Torrie, who’s clearly as unaware as I am that this quirky man is the priest.
Father O’Mally scratches his beard, scans the lot of us.
“Not too many bridesmaids or bridegrooms,” he says, then grins, raising his eyebrows.
“Good, this’ll be nice and easy.”
He walks to the end of the room, hands behind his back in a gesture of repose. Returning to us in the same pose, he spread his arms, says, “First things first, no freestyling it out there tomorrow. That’s what the rehearsal dinner is for....”
As he talks I find my attention wandering, to Pip and Pulse who look hilariously absorbed with every word coming out of Father O’Mally’s long moustache, but finally to Carlos.
He looks as surly as ever, with a gaze flicking around the room, searching for something.
I knew we shouldn’t have let him be in the wedding party, even come to the wedding at all, but Torrie wouldn’t budge.
Torrie squeezes my hand. I squeeze it back.
Really, what is one evil bastard of a brother when I’m marrying the woman of my dreams?
“Alrighty,” Father O’Mally says, turning to Torrie and me now, “First, let’s practice the bridal party procession. Groom – Gav – you get up to that altar with your best man.”
Smiling brace-faced delight, Jaws comes beside me and claps me on the back.
“Our time to shine Boss.”
I clap him back, lean in, say, “Told you not to call me that anymore.”
To which he smiles back an even bigger smile.
As we stride up the aisle to the front, I peer at his tie.
“Jaws, is that actually a...”
He nods, and, when we stop at the front, takes it out for me to look closer. I hold it up to my face so I can make out the tiny gray sea creatures on its shiny navy surface.
“A shark tie. Tinsley got it for me. Some of them are even eating little fish see?”
I let the tie fall, and Jaws shoots a worried sidelong glance at me.
“Though I don’t, you know, have to wear it tomorrow.”
With a smile, I tuck his tie back in.
“Nah, wear it. It suits you.”
I direct my attention to the back of the church, where Torrie is talking to Father O’Mally.
From here he looks like a confused vacationer from the Bahamas who accidentally wandered in. Behind them, Carlos’ roving eyes look as suspicious as ever. And what’s that bulge in his pants pocket?
“So,” Jaws is saying, “What’s the food situation?”
I shrug.
“Some pasta, some sushi, some chicken, some steak, some cake.”
Jaws nods, with a silent pressing together of his lips. His gaze is on the
first bridegroom and bridesmaid walking up: Pip and Maria Fernanda – his hulking arm in her toothpick one.
The longer I watch the more this seems like an elaborate joke: Maria Fernanda’s woolly sweater with a penguin that looks like it’s having a seizure, Pip’s donning of the old Rebel Saints shirt: a skull wearing a saint hat. Pulse and Hannah, the next to stride up, only further this impression: Pulse’s tattoos are tastefully covered by a wife beater, while Hannah is donning a toned-down neon pink dress.
Even Carlos seems in on it, wearing what looks like the ugliest, most ripped up gray t-shirt in existence.
And yet, the sight of him does not fill me with the same mirth as the others did. No, as he storms up, he makes sure his glare touches on everyone before he slumps into the pew with the other groomsmen.
Last is Jane, whose trainer lets her free at last; she gallops up the aisle, stopping beside me and Jaws.
I pet her and she gives me a doggy grin. We’re old friends by now.
Only took three months of regular visits, walks and expensive cat-shaped dog treats, but I won Jane over.
Now, finally, it’s Torrie’s turn.
She’s walking up alone, as she requested.
“Feels wrong walking up with anyone but Papa,” she had explained, and I was all too happy to oblige her. Torrie has been so reasonable throughout this wedding planning that I’d let her do almost anything she asked.
Father O’Mally claps his hands in delight as he strides up.
“Great, great!”
Then, passing Jaws and me, he whirls around, gives us a significant look.
“Now, on to the vows.”
Torrie and I step up to the altar, hand in hand.
“Who wants to go first?” Father O’Mally asks.
“I will,” Torrie says, squeezing my hand one final time before letting it go, “Otherwise I’ll be crying too hard to get through mine.”
I smirk at her.
“Oh, I’ll make you cry all right.”
Torrie sticks out her tongue at me, then unfurls a piece of paper and begins.
“Gavin. I don’t know how to summarize the best months of my life, how to get heart-bursting love onto only a single piece of paper, how to make you understand that I have never felt anything like this with anyone else and never will.”
As she speaks, I find tears coming to my own eyes, and a strange feeling in my gut that something isn’t right.
In the pew, everyone is enrapt. Everyone, that is, except Carlos.
His eyebrows are slanted in a purposeless fury, his hand is reaching into the pocket with the bulge.
I reach in mine, grasp the White Lady.
And as his hand comes out with a gun, so too does mine.
I shoot the gun out of his hand and the church goes silent.
Everyone freezes.
“I’ll shoot you in the head if you move,” I bark at Carlos as his hand trembles mid-air.
I stride up to the pew, grab his gun off the floor, then point both guns at him.
“Pulse, Pip, can you show Carlos out of here? Maybe down to my new office?”
They nod, smiling to each other, as they grab Carlos’ arms.
I turn back to Torrie and Father O’Mally, both of whom are white.
“Sorry,” I say, “Was just getting the kinks out so the real thing could be perfect.”
A half-hysterical laugh bursts out of Torrie. I take her hand and kiss it.
“Sorry babe. What were you saying?”
She takes a deep breath, squeezes my hand back, then let’s go.
“I love you more than you can know, and it only grows every day.”
Father O’Mally still looks like he’s been punched in the face.
“I want my vows to be a surprise,” I tell him, “Is it okay if we end it here, with the whole “you may now kiss the bride”?”
He nods dumbly, and I turn to Torrie.
“Well, you heard the man.”
And, before she can point out that what I said makes absolutely no sense since Father O’Mally is still speechless, I take her soft face in my hands, and press my lips to hers. And all at once, everything is fine again.
Chapter 39 - Torrie
20 minutes. 20 minutes before I’m Mrs. Pierson.
I grin at my reflection. Tilt my head so that I can confirm that the woman in the mirror is indeed me.
She looks too glamorous – like a movie star, too happy.
Her dress is white and gold, the top a cap-sleeve, golden sequin and jewel wonder, the skirt is a giant white and gold poof, spreading out princess-big.
It’s perfect, in a word. Hell, this day is already perfect and it’s hardly begun.
I lift my skirt once more to see the golden garter. We’re going to have fun with that tonight. My little $45 surprise for Gavin. Money well spent. It even has his name on it.
A knock on the door signals the end to my musing.
As I go to open it, I smile at my reflection one last time.
Hello, Mrs. Torrie Pierson.
At the door is Maria Fernanda. “It’s time,” she says.
She pauses, lets her gaze wander over the expanse of my dress, my torrents of curls.
“Well?” I ask, and she smiles, tears in her eyes.
“Oh Torrie, when you first told me I thought you were crazy but now, these past few months.... I am so very proud of you.”
She embraces me, and as I hold her, she whispers, “Your father would have been proud of you too.”
At these words, I separate, walk briskly out of the room.
“We better get going. Don’t want to be late for my own wedding.”
I can’t get to thinking about Papa, about how he should’ve been here, or I’ll be crying as I walk down the aisle.
In the church entrance, all the wedding party is lined up. Just like last night, with one exception: Carlos is thankfully locked somewhere in Gavin’s office, where he’ll stay until Gav and I decide what to do with him. That’s one “kink” I’m glad we stumbled on during the rehearsal.
I exchange a shy smile with Hannah, then inhale and exhale.
Everything is alright. With Gav, it always is. If anything goes wrong, he can fix it.
The next thing I know music is starting and Pip and Maria Fernanda are walking down the church aisle.
It’s time. It’s started.
A few seconds later, Pulse and Hannah walk out. And then, a few more seconds later, it’s Jane trotting up toward the trainer waiting in the pew, and then they’re sitting down, which Father O’Mally said is my cue to go.
I don’t go.
I pause, gaze out at the crowd, the mass of Italians and bikers.
Can I do this – marry a man I’ve known for less than a year? What am I thinking?
I turn around, then pause again.
The fear is wrong. I know. Gavin Pierson is the right man for me, and always will be.
I turn around and sail down the aisle.
Once I start walking, it feels like I’m on a conveyer belt, not moving my legs at all, or even a magnet, being drawn to my other half. My other half who’s waiting for me at the altar.
When I get there, the stupefied expression on his face indicates that my dress looks just as good as I thought.
The rest of the service is Gavin and I sitting and rising, listening to people give readings, Father O’Mally say things, waiting. For the vows, for the moment when we’ll be joined together forever.
When it’s finally time for our vows, I can hardly believe it.
I get through mine fine enough; I’ve practiced in front of my mirror thousands of times after all.
I don’t even cry.
And then it’s time for Gav’s vows.
He takes out the folded-up piece of paper Father O’Mally said he wasn’t supposed to bring, clasps my hand the way Father O’Mally said he wasn’t supposed to.
And then, his voice wavering, he speaks:
“Torrie. You have been nothing
short of a miracle. Before I met you, I didn’t know a woman like you existed, could exist. I never really connected with most people, never thought I could. And never anything like this. You’re honest yet compassionate, you know how to talk me up and keep me grounded. You bring out the best in me, so much so that lately I hardly recognize myself in the best way. I love you. I love you and everything that you are, and everything that we are, and I can never thank you enough for making the happiest man in the world by saying yes.”
Now, as tears stream down, as our fingers clasp together, as we stare into each other’s’ loving eyes, Father O’Mally says the words, “You may now kiss the bride” and Gavin does.
Our lips meet, and everything disappears. There is only Gavin and me, our love, our ecstatic marvel of a love, so bright it explodes, roars out so, as we separate, all I can hear is his whisper, “I love you Torrie. I love you.”
The rest of the service is a happy blur, of words, going through the motions, everyone smiling and my heart laughing, laughing at all this ceremony for me and my husband, whose love knows no bounds, recognizes no need for ceremony. This is the happiest day of my life.
When we finally escape the church, we throw ourselves in the limo, lay back and enjoy the ride.
“Cookies anyone?” Jaws offers.
He’s holding an already-opened box of Oreos, that Maria Fernanda inspects with interest.
“Is that... ah,” she says.
Evidently, she saw that it is indeed birthday cake Oreos.
This revelation made, when Jaws passes her the box, she takes six and passes three to me.
We toast birthday cake Oreos with a smile and dig in.
I munch on my Oreos gladly, sinking into Gav.
Today has only just begun, and I’m exhausted already. And this isn’t just a bodily exhaustion either. My mind is exhausted, worried.
As we were leaving the church, I caught a glimpse of the last two faces I wanted to see.
How did Roger and Anthony even get in?
I frown, glancing up at Gav’s exultant face. His smile is so big that it leaves two indents on his face even when it falls.
No, I can’t tell him, can’t worry him. Not today. I want today to be perfect for him, for us. No use worrying needlessly.