Hitched(68)
I’d call him whipped, except I’m the guy currently hunting for three more alpacas to round out Chewpaca’s herd. I might also be the guy looking for matching nameplates for their pens in the stable and a specially-decorated drinking trough.
“I have a few things to say,” Olivia continues, making the baby giggle happily, because apparently she likes her mama having things to say. “And Hope did such a lovely job with my wedding it seems a shame not to return the favor.”
Ruthie May blinks like she’s coming out of a trance and swipes at her shining eyes. “That’s a lovely idea. I didn’t realize I’d get so emotional.”
“A lot of big feelings on a day like today,” Olivia says kindly as she steps into Ruthie May’s place and our original officiate is welcomed at the visor lady table, given a beer, and complimented on her words of wisdom for the young couple. Which seems to encourage some of the drunker visor-wearing grannies to shout out their own advice.
“And don’t go to bed angry!” one calls out.
“Or forget birthdays and anniversaries,” another shouts.
“Or put being right over being sweet,” a third barks. “You’re going to win more honey with sugar than from pouring salt in a wound and calling it medicine.”
Hope and I are exchanging covertly confused looks when Gerald calls out for Olivia to, “Get this thing started already. The game’s starting in an hour and at this rate we’ll still be sitting here waiting for the honoring and cherishing.”
“Gerald, for the love of muffin tops, just shut it and be patient,” Maud calls out from the other side of the bar just as the front door bangs open, and the cupcake lady races in, a pack of apparently feral kittens at her heels.
“Sorry, sorry!” she cries, holding the white cupcake box over her head as the cats lunge at her bare legs, mewling and hissing as they take turns trying to jump up and snag their claws into her red-and-white checkered skirt. “I tried to keep them outside, but they chased me in.”
Clint springs into action, leaping over tables and executing a fancy roll across the scarred floorboards before popping back to his feet to collect the cupcake box in one hand while he sweeps the cupcake lady off her feet and sets her atop a table, safely out of the way of the kittens.
“I knew I should have brought a few kennels,” Hope mutters as her eyes narrow on the wild felines streaming into the bar. “Just in case.”
“Always good to have a few spare kennels around on your wedding day,” I agree dryly.
Her lips quirk as she lifts her eyes to mine. “I attract strays, O’Dell, you know this about me.”
“I do,” I whisper, for her ears only. “And you’re so good with them. And with me. I love you so much.”
“With every piece of my heart,” she vows as George’s kiddos, now full-fledged grown raccoons themselves, erupt in chitters and dive from their booth, all of them dashing over to play with the kittens—and then run away from the kittens, as the bloodthirsty pack proves too much for the coddled pet raccoons to handle.
“Dearest friends,” Olivia says over the chaos, “we’re gathered here today to celebrate love, the very best thing on earth. I’m so happy for you both. May you guard each other’s hearts well and always shine as brightly for each other as you do today.” She smiles. “Do you take each other in pandemonium and astrological storms, in sickness and in boat explosions, and everything in between?”
“We do,” we say together.
“Then by the power vested in me by stardust and sunshine, I now pronounce you married in the eyes of all of the people who love you most. Now, shall we go rescue some kittens?”
“We shall.” We head, hand-in-hand, to corral a few cats, protect our cupcakes from George, who is once again trying to sneak into our white bakery box, and spy on Clint and the cupcake lady, who are making eyes at each other. As usual, we laugh the entire time.
“You think every day will be like this?” I ask as we make our way to the floor to have our first dance to “Afternoon Delight,” a mortifying selection that was apparently my mother’s doing, since she’s the only one standing by the jukebox giggling like a crazy person.
“Oh, I hope so,” my wife says with a happy sigh. “I really do.”
“Me too.” I smile and pull her into my arms for another kiss and another, knowing without a doubt that I’m the luckiest man on earth.
* * *
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Hosed
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