by J. M. Snyder
“And that’s this stuff.” Kate waved the papers in her hands. “Since she isn’t here now and this is show time, I don’t think she needs to be involved any longer. Or paid anything else.”
Lane covered Remy’s knee with one hand. “Okay, but she put herself down as the minister for our ceremony.”
Angie had been sipping her coffee; now she sputtered into it, choking on the hot java. “Oh God, are you serious?” she asked, gasping through giggles. “What crazy ass church ordained her?”
Kate brushed that aside. “Never mind. I’m sure there’s an online database of ministers already registered with the state to perform marriage ceremonies. We’ll just find one who’s available on such short notice—”
“How do you know this stuff?” Remy asked, a little surprised and very pleased she was stepping in where Chell had stepped out.
Kate gave him a sardonic look. “Hello? I’ve done this before. Where do you think I found the minister who performed our wedding back in the day?”
Lane nudged Remy and joked, “Wow, they had the internet back then?”
Sweetly, Kate smiled at him. “Keep it up, hon. I don’t have to help you out. I can let Chell handle things—”
“No, no,” Lane said quickly. “I was only kidding. Please, we need you!”
Angie snickered into her coffee. “It’s so nice when they grovel, isn’t it?”
* * * *
Kate had given Lane and Remy only one contract, and that was for the tuxedos. They were scheduled to pick up the suits on Saturday, but Kate and Angie were groomsmaids and would need gowns, as well. Plus Braden would need a suit, too, since he was the ring bearer. Remy already knew that would take up most of the day, if not the whole weekend. He’d been clothes’ shopping with Kate before, and wasn’t looking forward to it, but he knew it had to get done. If he were in a tux and she didn’t have a nice new dress, she’d never let him hear the end of it.
Angie held a smaller stack of contracts, things that could wait until Monday to address. These included the venue, the photographer, the company who would be providing the canopy and chairs, and the hotel, who would be hosting the reception and their Christmas dinner.
In Kate’s hands were the things they needed to get done immediately. That included finding a minister to replace Chell, obtaining a marriage license, and checking with the caterer and the florist to make sure things were still on for the twenty-eighth. “This is stuff we’re doing today,” she said. “Angie will stay here and make calls, I’ll look for a minister, and you two will go downtown to get the license.”
“We can’t change ministers now,” Remy said, reviewing the application he’d printed out the day before. “I already filled out the license form online and I put down Chell as the minister. See, here?”
Kate leaned across the coffee table to glance at the paper, then dismissed it with a wave. “Well, whatever. Who performs the ceremony isn’t such a big deal. I’m sure you don’t even remember our minister’s name.”
Remy stared at her a moment, trying to recall the man who’d officiated their wedding. “Short, fat fellow, wasn’t it? Father something or other.”
“He wasn’t even Catholic,” Kate said, shaking her head. “Reverend Hollis, and he was as tall as you are, so I don’t know why you think he was short.”
“But he was fat, right?” Remy asked.
Kate sort of shrugged. “All I’m saying is, let this woman preside over things if she must. We’ll just keep it short and sweet. Do you? Yes. And you? Yes. Fine and good, I now pronounce you husband and husband.”
Angie laughed. “Is she really going to say that?”
“Man and husband?” Kate asked. “Does that sound better? Which do you prefer?”
“Whichever,” Remy said. “So are we sticking with Chell or changing ministers or what?”
Kate took the license application from him and skimmed over it quickly. “Hmm, well, you listed her as the performer, so we’ll just go with it as is. You’ve already paid the fee—”
“Sixty bucks, yes.” Remy pointed to the second page of the application. “There’s the receipt.”
Kate shook his hand away. “So all you need is a five dollar processing fee, this application, both of your IDs, and a witness—”
Lane asked, “A what?”
“A witness,” Angie said. “Usually the best man or maid of honor, or in this case one of your groomsmaids. Or would we be groomsmatrons? I never liked that word, matron. Sounds so damn old. What do you think?”
“Groomsmaids works for me,” Kate told her. “I don’t want to be called the best maid because that makes me sound like a housekeeper or something. Oh, that reminds me—when you call the people we’re getting the canopy and chairs from, make sure they’re providing clean up duties, too. I am not doing that.”
“Sure.” Angie pulled a pen out of her purse and made a note on the contract to follow up on that. “You want to go with them to get the license while I stay here with the kids?”
Kate looked at her watch. “Mike will be up soon…”
“Ed, too.” Angie smirked as she reviewed the contracts in her hands. “Like I said, I’ll stay here with the kids…wait. Hold up. When’s Chell coming back again?”
Remy felt a sliver of fear slice through him. “She said Monday, why?”
Angie’s smile disappeared. She flipped through her contracts, checking something, then took a deep breath. “Shit. What’s today?”
“Friday.” Remy didn’t like where this was headed. He exchanged a quick glance with Lane. “What’s the matter? What is it?”
Angie held a sheet of paper out to Kate. “Tell me I’m reading this wrong. What’s this say to you?”
Kate looked at the contract, then tore it from Angie’s hand. “Oh, fuck.”
“What?” Lane gripped Remy’s hand in his. “Come on, girls, this isn’t funny. What’s the problem?”
“The problem is,” Kate said, tossing the contract onto the coffee table, “that dumb bitch got the date wrong. She has everything scheduled to happen Sunday. This Sunday, not next.”
Chapter 12
Lane drove to the Department of Health, which was off the interstate on the way to the airport. He thought it funny that Hawaii actually had interstates—didn’t the word mean between states? Hawaii’s interstates didn’t even connect the islands of the same state, let alone tie the state to any other. The nearest state was probably California, and that was a good two thousand miles east. So they should’ve just called the roads highways, and left it at that. But no, they had the blue shield signs Lane had come to associate with interstate travel, which meant they were most likely part of the US interstate system. How did that work, anyway?
Beside him in the passenger seat, Remy reached over and took Lane’s hand in his. “Penny for your thoughts,” he murmured.
Lane glanced in the rearview mirror at Kate, who was on her cell phone calling ministers she found listed on the state website, trying to find someone available on such short notice. For a moment, Lane wished Angie had come with them instead; he didn’t get to see his sister as often as he would’ve liked, since she lived in New Jersey and he in Virginia—and I take Interstate 95 north when I want to visit her, he thought, passing through Maryland, Delaware, and Pennsylvania to get there. So it’s a true interstate. This is nothing but a four-lane road with high speeds.
Remy squeezed Lane’s hand. “Hon? You okay?”
“Fine.” Lane flashed him a tight-lipped grin, but if Kate wasn’t with them, he would’ve admitted that now, for the first time since he’d placed the ring on Remy’s finger, he was feeling more than a little nervous.
About what, exactly? He wasn’t sure. He loved Remy with all his heart, and he knew in his soul that there was no one else he wanted to be with for the rest of his life. But he’d never thought of himself as married—he’d come to terms with the fact that he’d probably die a bachelor long ago, because for as long as he could remember, he’d always known he was gay. A
nd, until very recently, gay men simply didn’t get married. At least, not to other men.
Buying a house together had been a big step in their relationship, but a natural progression, in a way. They’d been sharing two homes for so long, it only made sense to merge both into one. But this—this seemed more final, in some way. More real. And as much as Lane wanted it with all his being, a small part of him still worried about what might happen if…
If what?
Well, if things didn’t work out.
They would, though, he argued with himself. This is Remy. The man of my dreams. The man I love. How could things not work out?
But how many couples went into marriage thinking the worst might happen eventually? None, Lane was pretty sure. Everyone approached their wedding with nothing but the best of intentions, and still things didn’t always go according to plan. Remy himself was proof of that—his ex-wife was in the back seat of the car, double-checking their application for a marriage license, and Lane was pretty sure that might be the best definition of irony he’d heard in a long time.
Don’t be absurd, he thought. Remy loves me. Me. Marrying Kate was a mistake they made for Braden’s sake and they both admit it. This is what I want. What I’ve always wanted. I just didn’t know I could have it until now.
Remy’s thumb rubbed a soft spot on Lane’s wrist, a gentle touch that silently reminded Lane how close his lover was at that moment. Now that Kate was in Hawaii, they could pass Braden off to her for a day or two and get some quiet time to themselves, finally, and Lane would let Remy remind him just how much they meant to each other. How right they were together. How right this was, their marriage, their love.
Giving Remy a real smile this time, Lane raised his lover’s hand to his lips and kissed Remy’s knuckles. “I’m fine, really,” he said, to assure himself as well as Remy. Once the words were spoken, he knew they were true. “Just a little nervous, I guess. Love you, though.”
Remy leaned across the gear shaft and kissed Lane on the jaw. “Love you, too,” he breathed into Lane’s ear.
“What are you nervous about?” Kate asked from the back seat. “You already know what he’s like in bed.”
Remy looked over his shoulder at her. “I should’ve said the same thing to you when we got married. You were a wreck.”
“I was more concerned about going into premature labor,” Kate said. “Somehow I don’t think Lane has to worry about that.”
“God, no,” he said with a laugh.
* * * *
Lane didn’t know what to expect, but the process for getting a marriage license was pretty much the same as getting any other sort of license at city hall. Fortunately they had a bit of a wait, and during that time, Kate managed to find a licensed officiate who was open to performing a marriage between two men on such short notice. The new officiate was a young Hawaiian man named Paavo Paahao, and part of the reason Kate picked him was because he was listed as a minister for the same church as Chell.
“But it’s legit?” she asked, more than once. Lane watched her nod at his response. When she hung up the phone, she grinned. “Okay, Paavo says he’ll do it for a hundred bucks as long as he gets to eat at both the rehearsal and the ceremony for free.”
“Sure,” Remy said, looking at Lane, who agreed. Free food for the officiate seemed a small price to pay to get married.
“He’s twenty-two,” she explained, “so don’t freak out when he shows up and he’s just a kid. He got ordained mostly because he found out he could do it online in less than five minutes, he had to see for himself how that worked. Then he registered with the state and now makes money from it, mostly marrying gay couples who want a minister but can’t get a church to sanction their ceremony.”
Lane laughed. “Plus, free food.”
Kate grinned. “Yeah, there’s that, too.”
Together Remy and Lane filled out a new marriage license application, substituting Paavo’s name for Chell’s, and moving the date of the wedding up a week. The whole time Remy muttered under his breath, “I really, really can’t stand this woman. If I never see her again…” Lane kept a comforting hand on his lover’s thigh, but silently, he agreed. As soon as he logged onto Facebook again, the first thing he planned to do was unfriend her.
When it was their turn to see the marriage agent, they handed over their application and processing fee, showed their IDs, signed their names, and presto! Suddenly they were able to marry. The woman behind the counter didn’t seem the least bit surprised that two men from Virginia had traveled thousands of miles in the dead of winter to wed on a tiny tropical island off the coast of California. In fact, by the time she processed their application, the bored expression on her face suggested the only thing on her mind was lunch.
As they walked out of the office, Lane felt a weight lift off his shoulders he hadn’t even known he was carrying. Nothing stood in their way now—in fact, reading over the pamphlet he’d picked up while waiting in line, once they had their license they could get married that same day. If their minister wasn’t off shredding waves somewhere, and Remy’s parents could be rounded up in time, and they didn’t have to wait for some of their friends to fly in after the holiday…
Plus there were all the deposits Remy had put down for the caterer, the photographer, the venue, the tuxes, the flowers, etcetera, etcetera. Lane thought maybe they’d be paying off the wedding for about as long as they’d be paying off their new home, especially since they covered some of their families’ airfare. So far, the cheapest part of the whole venture had been the license itself!
If Lane had hoped to spend a little alone time with his lover once everyone got to the island, he was sorely mistaken. Back at the hotel, Ed and Lane’s parents had joined Angie and the kids in Lane’s room, and all of them were ready for lunch. It was a good thing Ed had rented the minivan; it fit all of Lane’s family, leaving Remy, Kate, Lane, and Braden to take the rental car. They went out in search of a place to eat, and ended up spending the afternoon touring Pearl Harbor. Braden kept busy with Emma, which was nice—seeing the memorial was an emotional experience for the adults, and having the children occupied made it easier for them to take in the solemn moment.
Friday evening, everyone crashed in Lane’s room again. Remy ordered beer and chicken wings from room service, and they watched the NFL game on TV. When Lane went to the fridge to get everyone another round, he leaned over his lover and whispered, “Doesn’t anyone else’s room have a television in it?”
Remy smacked Lane playfully on the butt. “They’re here to see us, remember. This is called quality time.”
“My idea of quality time is you and me in the bedroom,” Lane replied, “naked between the sheets. No one else invited.”
When Lane started to stand, Remy caught the front of his T-shirt and tugged him down to claim a quick kiss. It turned into something smoldering that lingered long after they pulled apart. “We’ll get there, Romeo,” Remy promised. “Gotta save something for the wedding night.”
“I’ll bust a nut before then,” Lane said, only half-kidding.
Saturday morning dawned too soon for either of them. Kate and Angie were up bright and early, and when Lane stumbled out of the bedroom wearing nothing but a pair of boxers, he saw his sister and Remy’s ex-wife chatting on the sofa. “Damn it!” he cried, making a mad dash for the bathroom. “Don’t you two have your own rooms?”
“Brae let us in,” Kate said with a laugh. “Nice buns, by the way.”
Angie giggled. “Really? I always thought he had a skinny ass, but he definitely got the best legs in the family.”
Slamming the bathroom door shut, Lane hollered through it. “Can’t you hang out somewhere else?”
“College football’s on today!” Angie called back. “And we have an appointment at Male ‘Ana Bridal in two hours. This is going to be so much fun!”
Lane looked at his reflection in the mirror above the sink and groaned. It wouldn’t take long for him and Remy to get fit
ted for tuxedos, but he’d been with his sister years before when she tried on gowns for her own wedding. That had taken weeks. With a shake of his head, he muttered, “Speak for yourself.”
* * * *
Remy wanted to drive to the bridal boutique, but they couldn’t take the car—in addition to the four adults, Braden and Lane’s mother were coming along, and so was Emma. “What for?” Remy asked, barring the doorway to their room. “This is turning into a circus. Lane?”
Lane shrugged but wisely kept silent. He and Braden stood to one side of the door, out of the way. Angie held the baby on one hip as she faced off against Remy, and Kate and Bev were a step behind her. Braden was already lost in his DS game, and Lane kept glancing back at the television, where Ed, Mike, and William were watching the college football pregame show. Even though Lane wasn’t a big sports fan, he would’ve rather stayed behind to watch the ballgame than try on tuxedos and dresses any day. His mother wanted to come, as well. When she’d grabbed her purse, Lane muttered to his lover, “Might as well call your mom, too. Make a field trip out of it.”
“Oh, hell no,” Remy had replied. “It’s just going to be me and you, Kate, and Angie. That’s it.”
But that wasn’t it, and from the way Angie breezed past Remy into the hallway, Lane knew she would win out in the end. “We’ll just take the van,” she said. Raising her voice, she added, “Bye, honey! Sure you don’t want to come with?”
Ed groaned from his seat on the sofa. “The game’s coming on!”
The others followed Angie to the elevators. Lane was last, and he caught Remy’s arm in passing. “Hey, what say we ditch them all and elope?” he teased as his lover pulled the door shut behind them.
“Somehow I think it’s way too late for that,” Remy groused.
The boutique was part of a sidewalk mall with an oceanfront view. Lane and Remy held back, letting Angie and Kate take the lead. The front of the shop was so small, their party seemed to fill the entire place, but through swinging doors, Lane could see a large open space in the back filled with racks of gowns and tuxes, and fitting rooms dotting one long wall. Interspersed amid the rooms were viewing areas—a comfortable sectional sofa wrapped around a raised dais in front of three mirrors, so a client could view a potential outfit from all sides while getting feedback from friends and family. At the moment, though, they were the only customers in the shop.
