by Jay McLean
Marry me, Riley Hudson?
Riley
Every girl thinks of this moment. The one where the man of your dreams is kneeling in front of you, declaring his love for eternity, hoping to share every single piece of his future as one.
Occasionally, you’ll hear a song on the radio and think, “That’s my wedding song” or you’ll see images of dresses or rings online and go “I’d want something like that.”
Some even go as far as making stupid Pinterest boards about the perfect moment, the perfect day.
They plan their future, their kids, their house, their lives entwined for eternity.
But as Dylan kneels in front of me, his hands shaking along with his shoulders as he looks up, pleading with me for an answer to the question he’s written on my arm—words I have yet to see—I don’t think about the future.
I think about the past.
I think about what I’ve done in my life that deemed me so lucky that he’s offering me his world. Forever.
I think about us—wondering how it is we got here.
I remember the day our paths collided—him in a fit of rage and me drowning in grief.
And I remember every single day since.
I look down at the boy I love—staring into his eyes—eyes locked on mine… eyes slowly losing confidence.
He’s Here.
Now.
Forever.
And even though I’ve thought about this moment, dreamed about it, picked out the song and the dress and even created a hidden Pinterest board—nothing, and I mean nothing could’ve prepared me for the emotions that come with it.
The tears.
The surprise mixed with expectation.
But most of all the love.
The love as it wraps around me, suffocating me, drowning me in the best way possible and then forcing its way through my entire body and out my mouth in a single word: “Yes.”
Sixty-One
Riley
My mom was there, in the store, standing behind me watching it all go down.
Obviously I’d been too wrapped up in the moment to realize it. It wasn’t until she squealed that I finally turned around and came to.
After her gushing over the ring, and the proposal, Dylan offered to take us both out for lunch to celebrate. It was on the drive to the restaurant when Dylan told me that he had it all planned out.
Turns out Dylan had asked her permission one night when they’d both been up to get a water. Apparently, so Dylan says, she cried more than I did. In fact, she wouldn’t stop crying. She told him about how much she loved me and him and us together, and that she couldn’t be happier—more proud of the man I would one day marry.
Mom and I have a lot in common, it seems, because I love all those things too. About as much as I love her.
He’d gone to the store the day before and spoken to the clerk about his plans and paid for whatever ring I would’ve chosen. He did have a budget, he admitted, but the clerk was more than willing to change things around in the display to accommodate his needs.
“You were that certain?” I ask now, smiling over at him behind the steering wheel.
He glances at me quickly before returning to the road, his smile matching mine. “I’ve never been so sure of anything in my life, Riley Hudson.”
I look down at the ring on my finger, then the words scrawled across my arm. An arm I plan on never washing. Ever.
When I tell him that, he pushes me away. “You’re gross,” he mumbles, but he’s laughing.
So am I.
We pull into the parking lot of the restaurant he knows is my favorite and after stepping out, he opens my door and takes my hand. “My lady,” he says, bowing his head while helping me out. “Wait. Can I say my fiancée? Lady doesn’t seem to do you justice anymore.”
I nod as I jump out. “I’ll allow it.”
“You’ll allow it?” he asks sarcastically, leading me with his hand on the small of my back. “Riley, I hate to break it to you but I’m going to be your husband soon. Your allowance doesn’t mean shit anymore. I say, you do,” he jokes.
I don’t have time to retort before we step through the entrance, the maître de nodding as she welcomes him. “We have you set up in the back room, Mr. Banks.”
“Why do we have the back room?” I whisper, walking behind her as she leads us to room.
He dips his head, his voice a whisper against my ear. “Because fucking you in front of all these people would be probably frowned upon.”
“Dylan!” I elbow his gut.
He winces in pain, right before a chuckle bubbles out him.
Then the door to the back room opens, and I freeze.
Just like everyone else in the room—Eric, Mal, Sydney, my mom and all our close friends. Even Heidi and Bryce are here.
“So?” Lucy asks, half standing.
Next to me, Dylan clears his throat, straightening his shoulders. “Family, friends, ladies and countrymen,” he bellows.
I narrow my eyes at him. What the hell’s gotten into him?
He curls his hand around my waist and adds, “I’d like you to meet my fiancée.”
I’m not really sure what happens next. It’s just a blur of flailing limbs as they all come charging toward me. Followed by shouts, cheers, handshakes and hugs, in between laughter and tears.
The girls reach for the ring on my hand.
The guys pat Dylan on the back.
And when the initial excitement fades, we sit and we eat.
We laugh some more, cry some more, and we love.
Boy, do we love.
I look over at Dylan, leaning back in his chair next to me, his smile wide and boyish and innocent as he looks around the table, finally landing on me. I shift to my side and hug his stomach. His arm goes around my shoulder, holding me to him as his chest rises with his slow intake of breath. “It’s a good life, Riley Hudson,” he murmurs, kissing the top of my head. “A damn good life.”
I follow his gaze from earlier, watching our families, our friends—new and old—the people who played such a heavy hand in getting us here, by doing nothing more than existing and accepting and loving us, even when it could’ve been impossible to do so. I look over at Jake, who’s already watching us, a slight smile on his face.
Then a loud sound comes from the door of our private room as five police officers step through, their gazes frantic as they search the space in front of them. I look up at Dylan, my heart racing, panic clear on my face.
He hasn’t moved.
An officer stands in front of the others and after looking down at a piece of paper in his hand, lifts his head—his voice loud when he says, “We’re looking for a Jake Andrews, Logan Matthews and Cameron Gordon.”
“I’m Jake Andrews… officer sir…” Jake says, slowly standing up.
“What’s going on?” Mikayla asks, standing with her boyfriend.
Logan and Cameron are on their feet—their fear and panic filled eyes wide and everywhere.
The officer clears his throat. “Arrest them, boys.”
I look over at Dylan again.
He gets up and slams a fist on the table. “Wait one damn minute, good Sir. This is an outrage,” he mocks, same deep voice from earlier.
“Oh, jeez,” I whisper.
“What the fuck did you do, Cam?” Lucy shouts, fork gripped tight in her hand.
“Nothing, babe. Swear it.” He’s as loud as she is.
The cops walk behind the boys, taking their wrists behind their backs and handcuffing them.
The first cop speaks again. “You boys are under arrest for possession of illegal pornography.”
“What!?” Amanda yells, standing in front of Logan now.
“Babe…” he shakes his head, his gaze on hers. “I don’t know what the fuck—”
“Not only is it illegal,” the cop with Logan cuts in. “It’s also fucking weird, boys.”
The officer with Jake shakes his head. “I mean pornography is one thing. A
nimals… ehhh… we’ve seen it before. But coming on figurines? Vegetables? Clown and monster porn? And don’t even get me started on the inanimate objects! I mean, baseballs? Really?” he says, pointing at Jake. Then motions to Cameron. “And desks? What are you? A deskfucker?”
Slowly, Cameron’s gaze moves to Dylan. “I fucking hate you,” he says.
Dylan raises his hands in surrender. “I didn’t do anything,” he says through his smile.
“Take ’em away, boys,” the lead cop announces. Then looks at Eric. “Thanks for the tip, Banks.”
“You’re going to pay,” Logan warns, his eyes on Dylan.
They get led out of the room and restaurant, hands in cuffs while their girls scurry after them and the rest of us sit in silence, Heidi and Bryce included. The silence only lasts a moment before Dylan bursts out laughing, Heidi following soon after.
“You’re so bad,” I tell Dylan.
His grin gets wider. “Fight or die, Hudson.”
“How did you even…”
He points at Eric. “Had my big brother call in some favors.”
Eric chuckles, so similar to Dylan’s. “You’re going to be a Banks soon, Ry. You better get used to this.”
“At least you left the girls out of it.”
Dylan’s smile drops.
“No.” I shake my head. “What did you do?”
He shrugs and leans back in his chair. “You think the girls were innocent? Babe, it was a glitter cock! Besides, I didn’t do anything. The waiters who put laxatives in their drinks and brought them out did all my work for me.”
“Dylan!”
Heidi laughs louder.
I look over at her.
She shakes her head. “I’m just glad I wasn’t part of it.”
Dylan’s smile is back in place. “Not yet…”
“But I had nothing to do with Operation Glitter Cock!” she shouts.
“But you knew about it, Heids,” he says, sighing as leans forward. “And that’s just as bad.”
Bryce laughs next to her and when she turns to him, eyes narrowed, he simply shrugs and looks over at Dylan. “You need me to do anything, you let me know.”
Heidi smacks his chest.
“So…” Mom says, sitting next to Logan’s dad. “Is someone going to tell me what just happened?”
Dr. Matthews chuckles, shaking his head. “Mayhem, Holly. I really could’ve used you back when they were juniors and Logan came home with wax strips on his genitals.”
Sixty-Two
Riley
Dylan walks into the bedroom wearing his work pants, white tank, and blue flannel shirt—exactly the way he was when I fell in love with him. He stalks toward me slowly, his brow bunched. “What are you doing, baby?” he says, falling on the bed, his fingers linked behind his head.
I turn the laptop to him.
He cringes. “I’ll be in the garage.” He starts to get up but I stop him. He sighs. “Baby, I love you and I can’t wait to marry you but swear if I see that Pinterest board one more time—”
My laugh cuts him off, I shut the laptop and throw it on the end of the bed. Bacon walks in, his head high looking for Dylan. Dylan lifts his head when he hears him and pats his chest twice. “Up bubba,” he murmurs.
Bacon jumps on the bed and settles right on Dylan’s chest, his head resting on his front legs.
I pat his fur and lie down with them, my head on Dylan’s bicep.
“I was thinking,” I mumble.
“Uh oh, this can’t be good.”
I lick his face.
He pushes me away. “Gross.”
Bacon gets up on all fours and looks down at Dylan.
“Lick, Bacon!” I order.
“No!”
Bacon licks him.
Dylan picks him up and moves him between us. “You were thinking?” Dylan asks while we both pat Bacon.
I sigh. “I was just going to say that we’ve spent more of our relationship apart than we have together.”
“You just worked that out now, Hudson?”
I look up at him. “Babe, we’ve never really discussed you re-enlisting so…”
“There’s really nothing to discuss, Ry,” he says. “Not for a while, anyway. My job’s going okay. My family’s here, so are my friends and my fiancée. Until I’m ready to give that up again, I’m staying put.”
“But you might one day?”
He stares blankly at me. He won’t promise me a thing.
I drop my gaze. “Well, now that we’re getting married that means we can live on base, right? At least when you’re not deployed, it won’t be so bad.”
“You’ve thought about it a bit, huh?”
“I have to, Dylan. If we have kids—”
“Oh, we’re having kids, Hudson.” He smiles wide, showing his perfect teeth. “Lots of them.”
“You know, once we’re officially married, you’ll have to stop calling me Hudson.”
“Nah. You’ll always be Hudson to me,” he says, leaning forward and kissing me once. “Forever the girl next door.”
My phone rings and Sydney’s face appears on the screen. I reject the call and throw my phone across the room.
Dylan quirks an eye brow and without taking his eyes off me, says, “Bacon. Bed.”
Bacon jumps off our bed and moves to his in the kitchen. “What’s going on? You guys fighting?”
“No. She probably wants to talk bridesmaid dresses. The girls can’t agree between lavender, mauve and lilac.”
Another blank stare.
“Purple.”
He nods. “Right.”
From across the room, my phone rings again. He waits until it stops before opening his mouth. Then his phone rings. Sighing, he reaches into his pocket and glances at it quickly. “It’s your mom.”
I roll my eyes. “She probably wants to discuss the venue.”
“You want to take it?”
“Fuck no.”
He chuckles as he throws his phone near mine. “So you’re not enjoying the planning?”
I shake my head, resting my head on his chest. “It’s so strange babe. It’s not like I haven’t thought about my wedding before. Every girl does, right? But it’s been two months and I just don’t think I care about any of it.”
He starts stroking my hair. “You don’t care about getting married?”
“No. It’s the opposite. I just want to marry you, Dylan. I don’t care about the dresses or the venues or the music. I feel like it’s two separate things, you know? A marriage and wedding. The marriage is for us and the wedding is for everyone else.”
His hands freeze mid movement. “So let’s do that then.”
“Do what?”
“Give them the wedding they want, and we’ll have the marriage we want.”
I sit up and look down at him. “How?”
Dylan
We choose a date two weeks away. Some may think it’s fast. But Riley and I—we’re not really ones for waiting. Besides, when you think about it, we kind of did things backwards, right? We had sex, fell deep, got the house, got the dog, had a pause, then got engaged.
When I say it like that, our journey seems easy. It was far from easy. But that makes it all the sweeter that we ended up here—holding hands under a gazebo in a park Holly had chosen.
We keep it casual—invite only our close friends and tell them to wear whatever they want.
Sydney, Mikayla, Amanda, Lucy and Heidi show up in five different shades of purple, and the guys wear orange mankinis—something Holly isn’t too pleased about but we did say to wear whatever they wanted. Besides, I’m not stupid. Retaliation had to occur, and what better day than the day of my wedding.
“Should I be nervous?” I ask Cameron, standing to my side between Logan and Jake.
“You’re not nervous?”
“I’m more nervous about not being nervous.”
“Why am I at the end of the line?” Eric whines. “I’m your damn brother!”
&nbs
p; I smirk. “Because I’m a…”
“Don’t!”
I lower my voice. “…Devil Baby.”
“I fucking hate you!”
Riley walks down the aisle to a song all too familiar; track nine of the High School Musical soundtrack; “We’re All in This Together.”
If Holly was a cartoon character, she’d have smoke coming out of her ears. Dad wears a tux as he walks Riley down the petal scattered grass toward me. She stops in front of me, two dead flowers in an empty bottle of Boons Farm wine in her hand. She’s barefoot, wearing a plain white summer dress. The very first dress I ever saw her in.
“You look beautiful,” I tell her.
She smiles and curtsies and then runs her hand along my crisp white dress shirt. “And you’re more handsome than I remember you.”
“You saw me a half hour ago.”
She smiles wider.
The “celebrant” says, “I now pronounce you husband and wife.”
Holly squeals, “That’s not—”
“I do,” Riley and I say at the same time. We kiss without being told to and then duck the glitter thrown at us.
“Best wedding ever!” Lucy shouts, and we all cheer.
So… maybe it wasn’t the wedding everyone wanted because Holly gives Riley and I an earful as soon as it’s over. Riley and I take it like champs, holding hands, heads bowed, trying not to laugh.
Holly huffs. “At least behave at the reception,” she says, then turns swiftly away from us and into the arms of Dr. Matthews. They’d been dating a while now. Apparently, it’s pretty serious considering Logan told us he walked into the house unannounced one morning and witnessed way more than he needed to. According to the sounds Logan heard and the moans of “Oh, Doctor. Just like that!” Dr. Matthews is a goddamn boss.
Who’d have thought?
In my truck, Riley cackles the entire way to the reception lunch, one hand on my leg, the other on her stomach. “Mankinis!” she shouts.
“Retaliation.” I shrug.
“Did you care?”
“Why would I?”
After twenty minutes of driving around, per Holly’s request, Riley navigates me to the address Holly had given us for the reception. We start getting confused when we hit an industrial area with nothing around but warehouses and factories.
