by Holly Rayner
It’s been a whirlwind courtship—if you can even call it that, given that I still have no idea how he really feels about me. Maybe what transpired between us last night really was just a fling to him. Maybe all the generosity and kindness he’s shown me is just his personality. And even if, by some chance, he does return my feelings, is it really possible to fall in love so fast?
I usually pride myself on my level-headedness, but I have to admit that my heart is breaking at the thought of not seeing him again after today. What if we walk out of this building and he wants to pick up my bags and drop me off at the airport? What if my flight home is already standing by? I have no good excuse not to get on a plane, other than the fact that doing so would destroy me.
And what about Jack Borman’s story? He’s sitting in the corner now, ready to sign as a witness when he’s needed, but I can’t stop thinking about the way he described our wedding. He’s seen plenty of them, and he believed ours would be the one that stuck. He thought we were an established couple, that he saw chemistry between us. That confirms, at least, that I’m not imagining it. I’m not just captivated by Luciano’s looks and charm. There is something here, something tangible enough that it’s visible to outsiders.
It’s real. It has to be acknowledged. Doesn’t it?
I’ve almost worked up the courage to open my mouth when the clerk places a stapled document on the desk and says something in Portuguese.
Luciano turns to me. “She says we need to sign on the highlighted lines. Then, she and Borman will sign at the end of the document, and it will be final.”
“Oh. Okay…” I say, shaking with nerves. My stomach swoops and, for a moment, I think I’m going to be sick. Luciano wants to go through with it; that much is obvious. What can I do? I can’t refuse. I don’t want to be in this with him if he doesn’t want to be in it with me. Maybe I’m wrong. Maybe I really did imagine everything.
With a sense of unreality, I watch Luciano sign his name to the document. It’s only been a week, but it feels like we’ve been talking about this moment forever, and I can’t believe it’s actually happening.
Luciano pushes the paper toward me and I take the pen from him with shaking fingers. I watch my hand sign my name on the line, thinking all the while that surely something is going to stop this.
But it doesn’t. It’s over in an instant. The clerk signs the paper and passes it to Borman, who also signs, and that’s that. We did it. Our marriage is officially annulled.
Of all the ways I imagined I would feel when it happened, I never predicted this. I thought I’d be relieved, as if a weight had lifted. When I realized I was falling for Luciano, I thought I’d feel sad. But I didn’t expect to feel devastated. It’s as if I can’t breathe. I’m almost dizzy with the regret. If I was in any doubt about my feelings toward Luciano, that doubt has now been completely removed.
I know it’s crazy to marry so quickly. I know that we were careless. But never for a moment did that marriage feel as viscerally wrong as this separation. Pulling away from Luciano like this goes against my gut. Every shred of logic I possess fights to remind me that this is a good idea—that it is, in fact, the only thing that makes sense. I barely know the man, after all. Relationships need more time than this to develop. People need to discover things about each other, to spend time together and see whether or not they’re compatible.
I know all this, and yet, none of it feels true. I do know Luciano. Something in me recognizes something in him, in a fundamental way I’ve never experienced before. I’ve never believed in soulmates, and I don’t know if I do now, but if such a thing does exist, this has got to be what it feels like. Being around him, with him, feels like home to me. The idea of leaving that behind is awful. How could any man compare after this?
I need to get a grip. I can’t go to pieces in the clerk’s office.
The clerk says something, and Luciano explains that she’s going to make copies of the paperwork so one can be kept on file and we can each take one home for our own records. Great. Just what I want—a souvenir of this moment.
This can’t be how it ends. After all, we’re both still here, and as much as I wish we hadn’t gone through with the annulment, things don’t have to be over between us. I could still turn to him and confess my feelings. But the hesitation I was feeling before has increased exponentially. He signed those papers so readily. He didn’t even pause. He can’t be feeling what I am, or it wouldn’t have been so easy for him to go through with it. If I say something now, I’ll just add humiliation to the pile of awful things I’m feeling.
Is humiliation really worse than always wondering what would have happened, though?
I steel myself and turn to face him. “Luciano—”
But my words catch in my throat.
The first thing I see is Jack Borman, hand clapped to his mouth, eyes wide, because Luciano’s not where I’m expecting him to be. He’s left his seat. He’s on the floor.
On one knee.
It must be at least ten full seconds before I understand the picture in front of me. Is this really happening? This can’t be happening. I’m imagining this. I’m misinterpreting this.
He pulls a ring out of his pocket and holds it up. I am not imagining this.
“Oh my God,” I gasp.
“Oh my God,” Borman echoes.
“Dani Bell,” Luciano says, and then pauses. “Is it Danielle?”
I can’t help it. I burst out laughing. It’s just so funny that we’ve been through all this and he doesn’t know such a basic thing about me.
“It is,” I say, composing myself. “But Dani’s good.”
He nods. “Dani, I have been captivated by you since the moment I saw you in that hotel lobby in Las Vegas,” he says. “Even from across the room, in a city with thousands of beautiful women, you stood out to me. You’ve always stood out to me. And that evening, when I met you again, I learned that your personality was as distinct and as marvelous as your appearance.”
I can’t speak. My emotions are whiplashing so hard I’m not sure which way is up. Jack Borman, I notice, has begun recording Luciano’s speech on his phone.
“You went toe to toe with me,” Luciano continues. “You argued. You’re smart and witty and you stand up for yourself. And from that moment on, every moment in your company has been uniquely delightful. I think marrying you might actually have been the smartest thing I’ve ever done.”
I feel a tear roll down my cheek.
“Let me do it again,” Luciano says. “Let me do it the right way. A wedding we’ll both remember. A wedding where our friends and family can celebrate with us.”
“That’s why you signed the papers,” I say, flooded with sudden understanding. “It wasn’t because you didn’t want me.”
“Dani. Of course I want you. More than anything.” He takes my hand. “I wish I’d found a way to tell you sooner. To be clear about my intentions. I know it’s fast, and it’s probably crazy, but I want to be married to you. I just want that marriage to be built on the best possible foundation. I want to give you the wedding you deserve.”
“I don’t know what to say,” I whisper.
“Say yes!” Borman cheers. “This is the most romantic thing I’ve ever seen. I was rooting for you kids!”
“You’d better not be posting that video anywhere,” I say.
“I’m taking it for you,” Borman says. “You’re going to want it after you say yes to him, believe me.”
“She hasn’t said yes to me, yet,” Luciano says.
“She’s going to.” Borman sounds assured.
“Of course I’m going to.” My fragile composure shatters and I find myself laughing and crying at the same time. “When did you get that ring?”
“I found it at the farmers’ market this morning. I’m planning to get you a real one, but I saw it and thought of you, and…it was kind of a sign, you know? I’ve had it in my pocket since then, nudging me in the right direction.”
�
��I don’t need a different ring.” He slips it onto my finger and I hold my hand up to admire it. It’s pewter, with a turquoise stone in the middle. “I love it.”
“Well, I’ll just get you one for fancy parties, then,” he says with a smile, and gets to his feet.
I stand too, moving toward him, and as his lips meet mine, I feel weightless. Buoyant. I wouldn’t be at all surprised to look down and see that I’ve lifted off on a cloud.
A shocked exclamation in Portuguese reaches my ears.
We break apart, guilty as teenagers caught in the act. The law clerk is standing in the doorway holding the photocopied papers and wearing an expression of amazed disbelief.
“She wants to know what’s going on,” Luciano explains in a low voice. “She sounds pretty annoyed.”
I freeze. Have we done something wrong? I know the conditions under which people can obtain an annulment are fairly limiting, and that generally, you’re not supposed to actually be in love. The fact that we’re turning right around and getting married again—is that going to get us in trouble? Maybe we should conceal that bit of information.
“He just asked her to marry him!” Borman says, before I can try to communicate any of this to Luciano via eye contact. “Isn’t that the most romantic thing you’ve ever heard? Says he wants to marry her properly.”
“She doesn’t speak English,” I say softly, but Luciano is speaking now, and I assume from his hand gestures that he’s translating Borman’s explanation of events for the clerk.
The woman folds her arms across her chest and frowns, then turns to me and asks a question.
“She wants to know if you knew I was going to propose,” Luciano translates.
“It was a complete surprise,” I say, trying to talk naturally rather than listen to Luciano’s rapid translations. “I was beginning to discover I had feelings for him, but I never imagined he returned them. I assumed the whole thing was so impractical that a separation was the only real option.”
The clerk shakes her head slowly, and for one heart-stopping minute, I think she’s about to yell at us or tear up the contracts in her hands. But then, with a small smile, she hands them over. I take mine, fold it carefully, and tuck it into my purse. It still feels so unreal. I’ve gone from married to separated to engaged in the space of about twenty minutes.
The clerk speaks again, and now, I can see that she’s struggling to hold back a smile. Luciano translates, this time turning toward Borman.
“She says you’re right,” he says. “It is romantic.” Then, he turns to me. “And she also says that she never wants to see either of us again.”
“Don’t worry,” I say, already eager to leave this place where marriages are dissolved and start focusing on the one I’m about to build. “You won’t.”
Outside, the town car is waiting for us. Luciano ushers me in. I still feel as if I’m floating. I wait until he gets in and fastens his seatbelt before turning to him.
“Did that really just happen?”
“I hope so,” he says with a smile.
“You asked me to marry you. We’re getting married.”
He sits forward and knocks on the partition, which lowers, and he speaks with the driver for a moment in Portuguese. The driver nods and makes an abrupt left turn.
“What’s that about?” I ask.
“We need something to toast with.” The car pulls up to what looks like a wine store and Luciano leans over and kisses me. “Wait here.”
I sit back in my seat, dazed and happy. I’m getting married.
I’m getting married to Luciano. And really married, not a joke marriage on a blackout night that I’ll be too embarrassed to ever tell my family about. I can call my parents and tell them about this. Okay, yes, they’ll be surprised that it’s happening so fast, that I’m marrying a man they’ve never met or even heard of. But they’ll be happy for me.
Where are we going to live? Las Vegas? It was fun for a weekend, but I don’t think I can spend the rest of my life there. Portugal? It’s beautiful, but I don’t speak the language, and moving away from everyone I know would be very hard. Is there any chance he would consider relocating to California?
These are the questions couples usually tackle before they get engaged, I realize, but I know Luciano and I can work it out. After all, with everything we’ve already been through together, a few domestic debates should be nothing.
Luciano returns with a bottle of champagne, which he pops in the parking lot. We don’t have any glasses, so we pass the bottle between us, sipping giddily, practically in each other’s laps. It’s honestly amazing that our clothes stay on until we’re dropped off at his house.
Somehow, they do, and as soon as I’m out of the car, he sweeps me up in his arms and carries me over the threshold to the bedroom, covering my face in kisses the whole way.
Epilogue
A Year Later: Dani
“Dani!”
I turn away from the full-length mirror where I’ve been admiring my wedding dress. I can’t believe I’m wearing something so beautiful. It has a sweetheart neckline and crystal detailing across the bodice, winding down to my waist, where the skirt flares out into flowing sheer layers. It’s the most gorgeous piece of clothing I’ve ever owned, and it’s hard to tear my eyes away from it.
But Sandy is rushing up behind me, bouquet in hand. “The flowers are here,” she says, pressing them into my hands. “Crisis averted.”
I hadn’t actually managed to summon up much panic about the late delivery of the flowers. After all, I’m marrying Luciano today. It’s hard to believe it’s actually happening. I think a tiny part of me was always afraid that when we got to know each other better, it would stop making sense. But the past year has only served to confirm our initial instincts.
Now, having been with Luciano for almost exactly a year, having lived together in Riverside for the past six months, I can say with absolute confidence that this is the right move. He’s perfect for me.
“How’s it going out there?” I ask Sandy. As the bride, I’ve been sequestered in this ready room for the past two hours. My friends have been amazing, fetching me all the drinks and magazines I could possibly want while I get ready, but I can’t deny I’m going a little stir-crazy. “People are showing up, right? Is Luciano okay? Are we starting soon?”
“Everything’s fine,” Sandy soothes. “I have an anxiety pill in my purse if you want something to calm your nerves.”
I give her a look. “I’m not taking any pills from that purse of yours.”
“Okay, okay,” she says with a laugh. “But you have to admit, if I hadn’t mixed up the pills that night, you two wouldn’t be here today.”
She’s right. I can’t believe all the strange ways fate seems to have conspired to push me and Luciano together. Some days, it really feels like a miracle that we ended up where we did. I turn back toward the mirror, reach for the comb with my veil on it, and press it carefully into my updo.
“How do I look?” I ask.
“Gorgeous,” Sandy says, squeezing my arm. “Bridal.”
The rest of the girls pour into the room, giggling and sipping champagne from plastic flutes.
“It’s time,” Liz says, beckoning me over. “We’re supposed to bring you out into the foyer. Everybody is in the chapel, and they’re going to start in just a minute.”
“I can’t believe you’re getting married in Vegas,” Molly says. “I always thought if anyone was going to get married in Vegas, it would be Rhonda.”
“I still haven’t ruled it out,” Rhonda laughs. “Let’s see how this one goes, first.”
“I can’t believe you’re marrying Latin Loverboy!” Melanie says.
“Mel, you know his name,” I say with a laugh as the girls usher me out into the foyer, many hands reaching out to adjust my veil and the draping of my dress.
“He’ll always be Latin Loverboy to me,” she sighs, clasping her hands as though on the cover of an old romantic movie. “And
you two have such an amazing story, too.”
“It is pretty great,” I agree.
“All right, that’s enough,” Liz says. As usual, she’s taken it upon herself to keep things running smoothly, and I’m grateful for her guiding hand, because I’m unable to settle to anything practical today. Through those doors and down that aisle, Luciano is waiting for me. We’re going to be married. It’s really happening.
The doors are pulled open. One by one, my bridesmaids step through and walk down the aisle. This may be a Vegas chapel—it’s the same one, in fact, where Luciano and I first tied the knot—but there is nothing tacky about it today. My mom really went all out on the decorations. I spot her in the front row, next to Dad, and smile as I pass before turning my gaze to the front where Luciano awaits.
As we exchange vows, I barely know what I’m saying. All I can concentrate on is the warmth of his hands in mine and the knowledge that this cements us. Whatever happens in the future, it will happen to both of us, together, as a couple. Happiness balloons in my chest, and when the minister finally announces that we are husband and wife, I don’t even wait for official permission to pull him to me and kiss him.
From somewhere in the congregation, a wolf whistle sounds. I look out and see Jack Borman smiling from ear to ear. I smile back. I wasn’t sure he would come, but I’m glad he did. After all, none of this would have happened without him, either.
The reception is to be held in the ballroom of the hotel where Luciano and I woke up together after that first wild night. The place is over-the-top opulent, with ornate chandeliers that match the wall sconces and a beautifully molded ceiling. It’s much larger than we need to accommodate our guests, too, so we’ve positioned the tables in a ring around the dance floor, which itself is in a ring around the DJ.
Luciano and I have commissioned our photographer to take only candid pictures all night—we don’t need those awkward posed shots—so we don’t have to hang around after the ceremony. We go right out of the chapel and into the waiting limo, which delivers us to the hotel.
