My Life in Shambles(96)

“May we have the rings,” the minister says.

That’s our cue.

I turn to Hemi who presents me a large, thick white glove. I slip it on and then look down the aisle to the end where one of my ex-teammates, Liam, is with Hooter McGavin on his arm.

I nod at Liam and hold out my gloved arm.

Hooter takes flight with a few majestic flaps of his wings, soaring down the middle of the aisle while all the guests stare up in amazement, gasping in delight as they frantically try to take pictures.

Hooter lands on my arm softly and looks me in eye.

He’s saying, where the hell is my treat?

I clear my throat and look behind me at Hemi who is watching the owl with awe. He then realizes I’m waiting for him, so he hurriedly reaches into his pocket and pulls out a piece of chicken, giving it to me so I can place it on the glove. Hooter immediately gobbles it up.

“I wish I’d known this before I signed up for best man duties,” Hemi grumbles and everyone laughs.

I then reach down for Hooter’s legs where a satin pouch has been tied on with blue ribbons that match Valerie’s bouquet.

I give the pouch to the minister and then coax Hooter to take flight again. He soars back down the aisle and onto Liam’s arm. A few people clap.

“I know that was quite the show,” the minister says with a laugh. “But wait until they say I do.”

He takes the rings out of the pouch, while Hemi takes the glove back from me.

“Valerie,” the minister says to her. “Will you take Padraig to be your husband, love, honor and cherish him now and forevermore. Do you promise to always stay by his side, in sickness and in health, and keep saying yes to new adventures?”

She giggles, surprised at that addition to the vows that I had the minister slip in there earlier today. Her smile is wide and beaming and her beauty takes my breath away.

This is it.

“I do,” she says, radiating so much happiness and love that I think everyone in the garden can feel it.

“Repeat after me,” he says to her, handing her the ring. “With this ring, I thee wed.”

She slips the ring on my finger and we both take a second to admire it. Silver, with Celtic scrolls, it suits me to a tee. “With this ring, I thee wed,” she repeats.

“And you Padraig,” the minister says to me. “Will you take Valerie to be your wife, love, honor and cherish her now and forevermore. Do you promise to always stand by her side, in sickness and in health, and keep saying yes to new adventures?”

I’m grinning like a bloody eejit. “Yes. Yes, I do. I do.”

Valerie practically jumps, she’s so excited and giddy. The feeling is mutual.

With trembling hands I take the ring from the minister as he says, “Repeat after me, with this ring, I thee wed.”

“With this ring, I thee wed,” I say and slip the ring over her finger, snug against her engagement ring. There it is. A symbol of us and our love right beside a symbol of my mother and father’s love.

They don’t fit flush but they are close enough.

“Padraig and Valerie,” the minister announces to us joyously. “May you live happily ever after. By the power vested in me by our saviour, the Lord Jesus Christ and the Republic of Ireland, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may now kiss the bride.”

My smile is frozen on my face. I don’t think I’ll ever stop feeling this way.

We did it.

We said yes.

I grab her face in my hands and kiss her fiercely. I kiss her with all I have, to the point where I might be messing up her hairdo but I don’t care.

She smiles against my lips and whispers, “I love you, Padraig.”

“I love ye, Valerie,” I tell her, pulling back and taking my first real look at her as my wife.

This is the life I’d always wanted.

I grab onto her hand, give it a squeeze and then we walk down the aisle, everyone on their feet and throwing white confetti into the air so it falls down around us like snow, much like the first night we met.



VALERIE





“I want to pose with the owl next,” Sandra whines, as we sit on the low stone wall in the front of the B&B, watching as Hooter McGavin perches on Padraig’s arm, white gauntlet and all, with Hemi, Alistair and the Major gathered around him. It’s quite the dashing scene and I’m starting to think Hooter is getting more attention at this wedding than Padraig and I are.

“No,” Angie says, sipping from her glass of champagne and pointing it at Hemi. “You want to pose with that Jason Momoa wannabe.”

“He’s not a wannabe,” Sandra hisses at her, smacking Angie on the arm and causing her champagne to splash out of the glass. “He’s just perfect. And I don’t want to pose with him. I want to climb him like a fucking tree.”

“You’ll get your chance soon enough when the bridal parties get their photos together,” I tell her, taking a sip of my champagne. “And anyway, I thought you were dating that actor.”

“What actor?” she frowns.

“I don’t know. The one from your show.”

“You watch my show?”

I shrug. “When I’m bored.” But I’m smiling.

Sandra is moving up in the world. Her character was written off her other show and now she has a big part in an HBO comedy series as a moody teenager, which is funny since Sandra is in her mid-twenties. She died her hair back to dark brown to get the part and it worked.