My Big Fat Fake Wedding(92)

Sure, there’s been stress and craziness.

But the orchestra has been lovely so far, the triplets sound beautiful, the video crew is discretely moving about the room, our families are here, and Papa walked me down the aisle just like I wanted.

I’m going to ignore that Giovianna had to drag her kids to the pew to sit them down because I don’t want to know what they were doing before I walked in with Papa. It doesn’t matter. The only thing that matters is the smile on Papa’s face.

But then I see the smile on Ross’s face and my own blooms. His smile. That’s important too.

Father O’Flannigan clears his throat, and we start the ceremony. After our first hymn, he launches into his opening comments, and I’m shocked at the emotion and power pouring from his words. I can barely keep up with everything he’s saying. I’m still in so much shock, but this isn’t the cookie cutter speech I was expecting.

“A lot of people think that being a priest for weddings is easy. Stand up here, don’t mess up the vows, read from a book, and bam, seal it with a kiss. And my work is done. But it’s so much more than that. It’s helping couples find their way to the altar in a manner that will create not just a wedding, but a marriage. Creating a life together, a love together, two truly becoming one. Some say that takes time, as if there is some hourglass of sand and a particular number of grains have to fall before you’re ‘ready’, whatever that means. And I could have politely said that this couple standing in front of you today hasn’t done enough to ‘prove’ their relationship to satisfy the church.”

“But then I thought a little harder, and I’ve watched how this young woman and young man have jumped through every hoop the world’s put in their way to get to today. I’ve watched as they’ve become unwitting celebrities and how they’ve endured the scrutiny, and yes, the occasional doubt from those around them.”

Damn, if that isn’t Father O’Flannigan bitch slapping Morgan Andrews, I don’t know what is.

“But yet, they’ve persisted, sacrificed, and shown an utter devotion to each another. Their love has stood steady, resolute against those who would put their union asunder before it is even blessed, as I intend to do today.”

“Though stories and movies tell us otherwise, love is not a fire. Sure, it flares up, and yes, it can have passions that don’t get talked about a lot within the walls of a church. But there are also tough times, and low times, and sad times. Love is about walking through the fires together, withstanding the rain together, breathing in the present together, and creating a foundation for the future together. And that takes hard work.”

“Work that Ross and Violet have already shown they are capable of tackling, and I have faith they will continue to do so. As we begin the ceremony that will unite you in marriage, I praise you both. May your commitment be a shining beacon to everyone about what love actually is.”

I blink, stunned by the words from the normally calm Father O’Flannigan. Beside me, Abi sniffs, and I see her wipe away a tear. I can hear people sniffing behind me, but before I can check to see if they’re crying or if it’s just really, really dusty in the church, O’Flannigan starts in on the ceremony.

I let myself be carried away by the rehearsed words, caught up in my own thoughts. Devotion? My stomach twists as I think about what he just said and how I could be making a mockery of his praise.

My worry increases when Ross reaches out, taking my hand, and I can feel him tremble for the first time. He’s nervous too, probably just waiting for someone to jump up and call us out right here and now.

FAKE!

FRAUD!

LIAR!

I expect all of these words to be brought up, but instead, there’s nothing but soft, happy murmurs as O’Flannigan says, “If anyone should have reason for these two to not be wed, may they speak now or forever hold their peace.”

Nothing. Well, Papa and Nana are now openly crying, and Mom’s sniffing like a coke fiend, but nobody objects.

“May we have the rings?”

Giovianna releases Michael, doing the two-finger thing between her eyes and his that says ‘I’m watching you, mister,’ and he solemnly walks the pillow of rings toward us. Ross unties the rings and hands them to Father O’Flannigan as Michael runs back to sit beside his mother.

The vows feel like bitter sawdust on my lips as I look up into Ross’s smiling face. Not because I don’t mean them but because I can’t shake the feeling that we’re lying to everyone.

But I don’t want to lie.

I want him.

I want to be his wife.

And maybe that’s the biggest lie of all . . . the one I’m telling Ross by not telling him the truth. That I love him. That I mean every word I’m saying, every vow I’m making.

Suddenly, it’s time.

“You may kiss the bride.”

Ross leans in, and for a moment, I feel my fear rise up. I want to pull back, to plead forgiveness and go running down the aisle, away from all of this madness.

And then I want to walk back down for real and marry Ross. But that’s even crazier.

But then his lips touch mine, and magic blooms. In his kiss, I can feel him, his heart, and I respond with my whole heart, kissing him back until Father O’Flannigan has to clear his throat. “Save some for the honeymoon, folks?”