“No,” he says. “I’m hanging out with her. I was stupid not telling you that I’d do anything, even go long distance for a while, just as long as it meant that we could be together. Wrigley helped me get past all my bullshit and realize that. I know we have a lot more to learn about each other, but if you’re willing, I’d love to give us another shot. I really think we have something unique and I’m willing to do whatever it takes.”
Wrigley as couple’s therapist: that’s an unexpected development.
“Leila?”
“Yeah,” I say. “I’m here.”
“What do you think?”
Hmm… What do I think?
Epilogue
Two Years Later
Leila
The groom is anxious as he waits for the rest of the procession to come forward so his bride can enter. This is the biggest moment of his life, and that feeling isn’t lost on him.
After what feels like hours of waiting, the best man and I make it to the front. The best man gives the groom a hug and then smiles at me. Throughout these years, I’ve enjoyed helping the groom get to this place more than almost anyone else. Anyone except the woman he’s going to marry.
The music changes and everyone stands.
The groom is starting to sweat.
His wife-to-be is stunning in her dress. It’s classy, but just revealing enough to get a couple of the parents in attendance to cover their children’s eyes.
The groom smiles when he sees this.
Today isn’t one of those things that just happened over night. It took a lot of hard work and a lot of luck, but it’s clear enough that there’s nowhere else he’d rather be in the world.
The bride gets to the front and stands across from her fiancé.
She can see the nervousness in his body language, but she doesn’t seem worried. He smiles at her sweetly and she smiles back.
The judge starts the ceremony.
“Love is a powerful thing,” the judge says. “It can lift us up and it can make us feel and do things we didn’t know were possible. When two people love each other, as you do, every one of us finds ourselves uplifted.”
The judge is a bit long-winded, but the bride and the groom are too busy staring into their futures to mind.
“…we are here to celebrate the love of these two people, who have brought all of us together…”
After a solid ten minutes of monologue by the judge, the best man nudges the groom, whispering, “Are you ready for this?”
The groom whispers back, “I’ve never been more ready for anything.”
“…now, take the ring and put it on her finger, repeating after me, I, Michael Jason Nielson…”
“I, Michael Jason Nielson,” the groom repeats.
The judge continues, “Do take you, Wrigley Samantha Moirea—Moire—Moireas—”
“Do take you, Wrigley Samantha Moireasdanach,” Mike jumps in.
“I’ve been practicing that all morning,” the judge says. “My apologies.”
The stumble is good for a laugh.
“To be my lawfully wedded wife,” the judge concludes.
“To be my lawfully wedded wife,” Mike says, slipping the finger onto Wrigley’s hand.
“And would you repeat after me, I, Wrigley Samantha, please state your last name.”
Wrigley’s smile is wide and beautiful and she giggles as she repeats, “I, Wrigley Samantha Moireasdanach.”
“Do take you, Michael Jason Nielson.”
“Do take you, Michael Jason Nielson.”
“To be my lawfully wedded husband.”
“To be my lawfully wedded husband.”
She puts the ring onto Mike’s finger and the two hold hands.
“Now, by the power vested in me by the state of New York, I pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride.”
The two kiss and make their way back down the aisle, now as husband and wife. There may have been an order to the procession coming in, but on the way out, everyone just clamors to follow the newlyweds.
At the reception, an hour later, the best man sees me sitting at the bar, nursing a drink.
“That was a beautiful service,” he says.
“Yeah, it was really nice,” I answer.
“So, have you known the bride and groom for very long?” he asks.
“I’ve known the bride for a few years,” I answer. “The groom and I actually go way back.”
“Ah,” he says. “So today’s kind of bitter-sweet for you, then.”
“What do you mean?” I ask.
“Well,” he says, “it sounds like the two of you have some history.”
“Oh, no,” she scoffs. “It’s nothing like that. We’re just old friends.”
“What are you drinking?” he asks.
“A tequila sunrise,” I answer. “I don’t drink that much anymore, but when I do, I don’t know if it’s the taste or the colors, but I just love these.”
“Mind if I sit with you a while?”
“Not at all,” I say.
“You know what I think is funny about weddings?” he asks.
“What’s that?”
“It’s so much buildup and the ceremony is always over so quickly.”
“I don’t know: that judge went on for quite a while. I’m pretty sure that at one point he compared love to a tollbooth.”
“Yeah,” he snickers. “I think I remember that part.”
“So, you’re saying you’d never want to get married?” I ask.
“I wouldn’t say that,” he answers. “I mean, I can understand the draw. I guess I just haven’t found the woman of my dreams yet.”
“Really?” I ask, smiling. “You look like the kind of guy who’s found dozens of women of his dreams.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” he scoffs.
“It’s the tattoos,” I tell him. “They kind of paint you as a degenerate.”
“I’m sorry. I don’t know that I’ve caught your name. Both the bride and groom told me, but I’m just terrible when it comes to people I haven’t had a conversation with.”
“Leila,” I answer. “Leila Tyler.”
“It’s nice to meet you,” he says. “I’m Dane Paulson. You know, I used to know a woman named Leila. She was into some pretty weird shit.”
I smack him on the arm and say, “I bet she was not.”
“No,” he says, chuckling. “She totally was. She used to have this weird ass fantasy about being picked up in a bar by her significant other.”
“I think that sounds very romantic,” I say.
“Yeah, if you’re weird,” Dane answers.
“You’re pushing it,” I warn, but my smile breaks through. “What are you drinking?”
“I don’t know,” Dane answers. “To be honest, I’m not very thirsty right now.”
“Oh? I would imagine a guy like you would be going insane over an open bar.”
“Not really,” he says. “I find people who drink to be rather boring. You know they only drink to put on the illusion that they’re interesting.”
“Oh, ha ha,” I mock.
“That’s not why I came over here, anyway.”
“Yeah?” I ask. “Why’d you come over here, then?”
“Because I think you’re absolutely gorgeous, and I know this may sound a little forward, but would you like to find a closet somewhere and fuck like bunnies?”
“A little forward?” I snort. “Does that line ever work?”
“At least once,” Dane answers, “I’m hoping.”
I down my drink.
“You know what?” I ask, “why not. Maybe I can teach you a few things. You come off a little inexperienced with women.”
“I am,” Dane says and takes my hand.
I walk in front of him for fairly obvious reasons, but we’re delayed a minute when the bride and groom rush over, arms outstretched.
“Help me,” Dane whispers. “Wriggles,” he says, turning just enough to hug Wrigley with his upper body while I generously ease my butt against his front while I hug Mike.
“Dane!” Wrigley squeals. “I’m married!”
“I know! Congratulations! You two are going to have such a wonderful life together.”
“Thank you,” she says and leans into his ear. “Real smooth with the positioning there, chief. I’m sure nobody’s figured it out.”