Reckless

by Teagan Kade

  Living breathless.

  Living lawless.

  LAWLESS WEDDING SCENE

  WREN

  It’s spring at the cabin. the wildflowers are out, the weather mild. It’s the perfect day for a wedding.

  We’re gathered at a small clearing down the back of the property, the one I tease is an Indian burial ground. But there are no Indians to be seen, only one very dapper cowboy.

  Carter had floated the idea of having the ceremony at the Oatville Ice Palace. You can imagine how fast I shot down that idea. No, I suggested we keep it simple—the two of us, a priest, and our closest friends. I spot June and Tim up ahead, the twins tugging on her kick-ass Terani dress in bold lipstick red. I don’t know anyone else who would wear that to a wedding.

  Carter’s mom is here, the two having reconciled, our fathers absent. I see Louie and Steve, even Coach Williams and some of Carter’s former teammates who I heard gave him a hell of a time for his bachelor party last night. I’m really hoping I don’t strip him off later to find his pubes dyed neon pink.

  The simple strapless gown I’m wearing was made by a local designer I found on Etsy. It was a lot cheaper than the Vera Wang David made me wear for my first wedding, the one that should have come with an entourage to help you get to the bathroom.

  I feel light and free in this dress, a crown of lavender on my head, bellflowers before me. My dress is white, but the bottom has been dyed violet, the color fading upwards. It’s a beautiful mix of traditional and new.

  As I approach Carter, he wipes his right eye.

  I stand before him close to tears myself.

  “I think it was a fly,” he says, his smile lighting up his features.

  “Sure,” I reply with sarcasm, those assembled laughing along.

  “Shall we begin?” asks the priest.

  “I can’t wait another second,” replies Carter, taking my hands.

  By the time we reach our vows, Carter’s eyes are glassy. Crusher White, the big bad king of the rink is going to blubber like a baby. I’m sure of it, but he manages to hold it together, taking out a piece of paper scrawled with handwriting.

  He tosses it away, smiling. “Fuck it.” He takes a breath. “Wren, you know you are the most extraordinary part of my otherwise ordinary life, but I want to promise to you, right here, right now, I’m here for you. I promise to protect you, to comfort you in times of sorrow, or when the ’Nucks are having a rough season.

  The crowd laughs.

  “I will always listen to you,” he continues, “even if we don’t see eye to eye, but most of all I promise to love you with everything I have, under whatever circumstances may come. Happy or sad, laughter or tears, I will love you forever.”

  “Woo! Go, Carter!” shouts June.

  Now it’s me who’s crying like a newborn, sniffing back another onslaught as the ceremony continues.

  When Carter places the ring onto my finger, taking up the place his brother’s once occupied, it starts all over again.

  Finally, we come to kiss, pressing ourselves together like horny teenagers, the stream that babbles behind us, the wildflowers that ring us, all forgotten as I kiss my new husband, the man I am to share my life and happiness with.

  “Enough,” shouts June, her hands around her mouth. “This is a wedding, not a porno.”

  “What’s a porno?” asks one of the twins.

  June claps her hands around his ears. “Something that’s going to happen later, honey, and nothing you need to know about for a long time.”

  Everyone laughs, throwing lavender petals over us as we run down the makeshift aisle.

  We eat back at the cabin, on long tables we hired from the hardware store, decorated with wildflowers and jam jars, lanterns… whatever we could get our hands on.

  We eat and we laugh, our small group, and when everyone has gone back to their hotels and homes, when it’s just Carter and I in bed, our marriage well and truly consummated, we laugh some more.

  “I can’t believe we’re here,” says Carter, stroking my spine. I snuggle into his side, watching his cock magically re-inflate. I don’t think it knows how to stay soft.

  “You should patent that thing, you know.”

  “What’s that?” he asks.

  “Wilson. That always-ready penis of yours.”

  “I told you. It belongs to you and you alone.”

  I swing myself over him, placing him into the slick heat between my legs. “Aren’t I a lucky girl?”

  He takes me by the hips, pulling me down upon him. “Luck’s got nothing to do with it.”