Hitched(67)

“Sounds like a plan,” I agree, taking her hands with a grin as my family steps away to take their places and wrangle the furry members of the wedding party.

Chewpaca, George and his family, and Jace and Olivia’s hedgehogs—Princess and Duchess—have been given special permission from the health department to attend tonight’s gathering. And they’re all in fine, wedding day form. Chewpaca is dashing in a paisley scarf and straw hat with holes cut for his ears. The hedgehogs wear tiny flower crowns in their spikes, George wears his formal bow tie, and his main squeeze, Sticky Fingers, rocks a big red bow tied around the base of her tail that George clearly finds nearly as mesmerizing as his lady’s generous backside.

He’s a butt man, our George, a condition I can completely identify with.

I lean back, taking a discreet peek at my wife in her jeans. She’s wearing the tight pair that drives me crazy, boots, and a heavier, winter-friendly buttonless blouse that reminds me of that night in the tasting room, when I finally dared to think she might be mine for real someday.

And now, here we are, and I couldn’t be happier. I honestly didn’t know happiness like this was possible until I found my way back to her.

“Are you checking out my ass?” she murmurs, as Ruthie May, the town gossip and the officiate of our Friends and Family Wedding takes her place in front of us.

“Guilty,” I confess, slipping my arms around my bride and bending her back for a kiss so steamy soon half the bar is hooting their encouragement.

“Whoa there, mister, save it for after the vows,” Ruthie May chides with a laugh. “Young folks today, always wanting to eat dessert first.”

“Speaking of dessert, the cupcakes ain’t here,” Gerald calls from over by the bar. “Want me to run back to the bakery and grab some of the leftover muffin tops from this morning?”

“No, thank you, Gerald,” Hope says. “I’m sure she’ll get here eventually.”

“If not, I’ve got an incredible vegan no-bake cake recipe. Wouldn’t take me but twenty minutes to throw it together,” Star calls out from one of the hammocks we’ve hung around the room, wanting our guests to feel relaxed and at home.

Though maybe not this at home…

“Y’all hush now,” Ruthie May says. “You’re sweet, but you’re chattin’ when I’m supposed to be marryin’.” A wave of laughter sweeps through the room in response and Ruthie May grins. “Good, then let’s get started.” She slips a quarter in the jukebox, and a second later, the first raunchy notes of “Honky Tonk Badonkadonk” rumble from the speakers. Immediately, the visor club of naughty bingo fame starts to sing along, Ruthie May shushes them, and Hope cracks up.

Because that definitely isn’t one of the songs on our approved “getting hitched” list.

“Shoot,” Ruthie May says, her brow furrowing as she runs a hand through her salt and pepper hair. “I thought I hit the Elvis song.” She sighs. “Oh, well. Should we just go with it?”

Hope and I exchange a glance and nod at the same time. “Let’s do it,” I say, not caring what song I marry this woman to, as long as I get to promise her the rest of my life in front of our nearest and dearest.

“Dearly beloved,” Ruthie May says, “we’re fixin’ to finally get these two lovebirds hitched up the right way. Blake. Hope. Put your hand on the monthly Sunshine Toys subscription box and repeat after me.”

She holds out a pink and white box with a bright yellow winking sun on the top, and Hope starts giggling again.

“Ruthie May,” Cassie, who is massively pregnant and about to give birth any second now, calls out from the booth where she, Ryan, and the Cooney family are sharing a large bowl of popcorn in hopes of keeping the critters out of the cupcakes if they ever arrive, “that’s for swearing someone in to the board of directors at the factory, not for conducting a wedding.”

“Well, they can’t keep what’s inside if they don’t say their vows on the box.” Ruthie May lifts her nose with a sniff. “And you know they loved their prize from bingo.”

Hope and I lock eyes, grin like the shameless Dildo Shaggins-loving people we are and as one, each put a hand on the box.

“There. That’s better,” Ruthie May says. “Now. As I was saying, marriage is a time-honored tradition of vowing to love one person and only one person for the rest of your life. And it’s hard sometimes, and it’s ugly sometimes, and sometimes you need a shot of tequila or a punching bag to get through the day.” She sighs. “And the nights. Sometimes the nights can be even worse. What with nothing to do except lie there and think about all the mistakes you’ve made, the things you might have done differently, and the chances that passed you by while you were busy doing other things.” A bittersweet smile curves her lips. “It all goes by so fast. You’ve gotta make every second count. Take the morning off. Make pancakes. Have seconds. Leave the dirty dishes in the sink.”

She trails off and the room grows uncomfortably silent, the awkward moment broken only by a coughing fit from Gerald and an orgling sound from Chewpaca who, as usual, has found his way to Olivia’s side. If his crush is in a room, it’s a fair bet he’ll soon be beside her.

I glance his way to see him nuzzling Olivia’s neck and the blonde nodding seriously. “Of course,” she murmurs to our fluffy best man before lifting a hand to Ruthie May. “Um, excuse me, but might I take over, please?” Olivia glides in, touching Ruthie May on the arm. Clover, who’s very mobile now, is riding on Olivia’s back in some sort of silk scarf contraption, chewing on an apple slice, while Jace wears a matching sling with the two hedgehogs tucked inside.