A Beautiful Wedding: A Novella

by Jamie McGuire

  “You think he’s having second thoughts?”

  “No,” I said, laughing once. I met her eyes in the mirror. “Are you married?”

  “Once or twice,” she said, winking at me. “I got married in the same chapel that you are the first time around. But so did Bon Jovi.”

  “Oh, yeah?”

  “You know Bon Jovi? Tommy used to work on the docks!” she sang, very much to my surprise.

  “Yep! Heard of him,” I said, amused and grateful for the distraction.

  “I just love him. Here! I have the CD.” She popped it in, and for the rest of the drive we listened to Jon’s greatest hits. “Wanted Dead or Alive,” “Always,” “Bed of Roses”; “I’ll Be There for You” was just finishing up as we pulled over to the curb in front of the chapel.

  I pulled out a fifty. “Keep the rest. Bon Jovi helped.”

  She gave me back the change. “No tip, honey. You let me sing.”

  I shut the door and waved to her as she left. Was Travis already here? I walked up to the chapel and opened the door. An older woman with big hair and too much lip gloss greeted me. “Abby?”

  “Yes,” I said, fidgeting with my dress.

  “You’re stunning. My name is Chantilly, and I’ll be one of your witnesses. Let me take your things. I’ll put them away, and they’ll be safe until you’re finished.”

  “Thank you,” I said, watching her take away my purse. Something swished when she walked, though I couldn’t pinpoint what exactly. “Oh, wait! The . . .” I said, watching as she walked toward me holding out my purse. “Travis’s ring is in there. I’m sorry.”

  Her eyes were barely slits when she smiled, making her fake lashes even more noticeable. “It’s fine, honey. Just breathe.”

  “I don’t remember how,” I said, sliding his ring over my thumb.

  “Here,” she said, holding out her hand. “Give me your ring and his. I’ll give them to each of you when it’s time. Elvis will be by shortly to take you down the aisle.”

  I looked at her, blank faced. “Elvis.”

  “As in The King?”

  “Yes, I know who Elvis is, but . . .” My words trailed away as I pulled off my ring with a small tug, and placed it in her palm next to Travis’s ring.

  Chantilly smiled. “You can use this room to freshen up. Travis is waiting, so Elvis will be knocking any minute. See you at the end of the aisle!”

  She watched me as she shut the door. I turned, startled by my own reflection in the huge mirror behind me. It was bordered by large, round lights like one an actress might use before a Broadway show. I sat down at the vanity, staring at myself in the mirror. Is that what I was? An actress?

  He was waiting. Travis is at the end of the aisle, waiting for me to join him so we can promise the rest of our lives to each other.

  What if my plan doesn’t work? What if he goes to prison and this was all for nothing? What if they didn’t so much as sniff in Travis’s direction, and this was all pointless? I no longer had the excuse that I had gotten married, before I was even legal to drink, because I was saving him. Did I need an excuse if I loved him? Why did anyone get married? For love? We had that in spades. I was so sure of everything in the beginning. I used to be sure about a lot things. I didn’t feel sure now. About anything.

  I thought about the look on Travis’s face if he found out the truth, and then I thought about what bailing would do to him. I never wanted him to hurt and I needed him as if he were a part of me. Of those two things I was sure.

  Two knocks on the door nearly sent me into a panic attack. I turned, gripping the top of the chair back. It was white wire, swirls and curves formed a heart in the middle.

  “Miss?” Elvis said in a deep, southern voice. “It’s time.”

  “Oh,” I said quietly. I don’t know why. He couldn’t hear me.

  “Abby? Your hunka hunka burnin’ love is ready for ya.”

  I rolled my eyes. “I just . . . need a minute.”

  The other side of the door was quiet. “Everything okay?”

  “Yes,” I said. “Just one minute, please.”

  After a few more minutes, there was another knock on the door. “Abby?” It was Chantilly. “Can I come in, honey?”

  “No. I’m sorry, but no. I’ll be okay. I just need a little more time, and I’ll be ready.”

  After another five minutes, three knocks on the door caused beads of sweat to form along my hairline. These knocks were familiar. Stronger. More confident.

  “Pidge?”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Cash

  Travis

  The door blew open. “She’s here! I just showed her to a dressing room to freshen up. Are you ready?”

  “Yeah!” I said, jumping to my feet. I wiped my sweaty palms on my slacks and followed Chantilly out to the hallway, and into the lobby. I stopped.

  “This way, honey,” Chantilly said, encouraging me toward the double doors that led into the chapel.

  “Where is she?” I asked.

  Chantilly pointed. “In there. As soon as she’s ready, we’ll get started. But, you have to be at the other end of the aisle, sugar.”

  Her smile was sweet and patient. I imagined she dealt with all kinds of situations, from drunks to jitters. After one last look at the door to Abby’s room, I followed Chantilly down the aisle and she gave me the rundown on where to stand. While she was talking, a man with thick chops and an Elvis costume pushed open the door in grandiose fashion, curling his lips and humming “Blue Hawaii.”

  “Man, I really like Vegas! You like Vegas?” he said, his Elvis impression spot-on.

  I grinned. “Today I do.”

  “Can’t ask for better than that! Has Ms. Chantilly told you everything you need to know to be a mister this mornin’?”

  “Yeah. I think.”

  He slapped my back. “No worries, fella, you’re gonna do just fine. I’ll go get your missus. Be back in a flash.”

  Chantilly giggled. “Oh, that Elvis.” After a couple of minutes, Chantilly checked her watch, and then walked back down the aisle toward the double doors.

  “This happens all the time,” the officiant assured me.

  After another five minutes, Chantilly popped her head through the doors. “Travis? I think she’s a little . . . nervous. Do you want to try to talk to her?”

  Fuck. “Yeah,” I said. The aisle seemed short before, but now it felt like a mile. I pushed through the doors, and raised my fist. I paused, took a breath, and then knocked a few times. “Pidge?”

  After what felt like two eternities, Abby finally spoke, her voice on the other side of the door. “I’m here.” Even though she was only inches away, she sounded miles away, just like the morning after I brought those two girls home from the bar. Just the thought of that night made me feel a burning sickness in my gut. I didn’t even feel like the same person I was then.

  “You okay, baby?” I asked.

  “Yes. I just . . . I was rushed. I need a moment to breathe.”

  She sounded anything but okay. I was determined to keep my head, to fight away the panic that used to cause me to do all kinds of stupid stuff. I needed to be the man Abby deserved. “You sure that’s all?”

  She didn’t reply.

  Chantilly cleared her throat and wrung her hands, clearly trying to think of something encouraging to say.

  I needed to be on the other side of that door.

  “Pidge . . .” I said, followed by a pause. What I would say next could change everything, but making everything all right for Abby trumped my own epically selfish needs. “I know you know I love you. What you may not know is that there is nothing I want more than to be your husband. But if you’re not ready, I’ll wait for you, Pigeon. I’m not going anywhere. I mean, yeah. I want this, but only if you do. I just . . . I need you to know that you can open this door and we can walk down the aisle, or we can get a taxi and go home. Either way, I love you.”

  After another long pause, I knew it was time. I
pulled an old, worn envelope from my inside jacket pocket, and held it with both hands. The faded pen looped around, and I followed the lines with my index finger. My mother had written the words To the future Mrs. Travis Maddox. My dad had given it to me when he thought things between Abby and me were getting serious. I’d only pulled this letter out once since then, wondering what she’d written inside, but never betraying the seal. Those words weren’t meant for me.

  My hands were shaking. I had no clue what Mom had written, but I really needed her right now, and was hoping that this one time, she could somehow reach out from where she was and help me. I squatted down, sliding the envelope under the door.

  Abby

  Pidge. The word used to make my eyes roll. I didn’t know why he started calling me that in the first place, and I didn’t care. Now, Travis’s weird little nickname for me spoken in his deep, gritty voice made my entire body relax. I stood and walked over to the door, holding my palm to the wood. “I’m here.”

  I could hear my breath; wheezing, slow, like I was sleeping. Every part of me was relaxed. His warm words fell slowly around me like a cozy blanket. It didn’t matter what happened after we got home, as long as I was Travis’s wife. It was then that I understood that whether I was doing this to help him or not, I was there to get married to the man who loved me more than any man loved any woman. And I loved him—enough for three lifetimes. In the Graceland Chapel, in this dress was almost exactly where I wanted to be. The only place better would be next to him at the end of the aisle.

  Just then, a small, white square appeared at my feet.

  “What’s this?” I said, bending down to pick it up. The paper was old, yellow. It was addressed to the future Mrs. Travis Maddox.

  “It’s from my mom,” Travis said.

  My breath caught. I almost didn’t want to open it, it had obviously been sealed and kept safe for so long.

  “Open it,” Travis said, seeming to read my thoughts.

  My finger carefully slid in between the opening, hoping to preserve it as best I could, but failing miserably. I pulled out the tri-folded paper, and the entire world stopped.

  We don’t know each other, but I know that you must be very special. I can’t be there today, to watch my baby boy promise his love to you, but there are a few things that I think I might say to you if I were.

  First, thank you for loving my son. Of all my boys, Travis is the most tender hearted. He is also the strongest. He will love you with everything he has for as long as you let him. Tragedies in life sometimes change us, but some things never change.

  A boy without a mother is a very curious creature. If Travis is anything like his father, and I know that he is, he’s a deep ocean of fragility, protected by a thick wall of swear words and feigned indifference. A Maddox boy will take you all the way to the edge, but if you go with him, he’ll follow you anywhere.

  I wish more than anything that I could be there today. I wish I could see his face when he takes this step with you, and that I could stand there with my husband and experience this day with all of you. I think that’s one of the things I’ll miss the most. But today isn’t about me. You reading this letter means that my son loves you. And when a Maddox boy falls in love, he loves forever.

  Please give my baby boy a kiss for me. My wish for both of you is that the biggest fight you have is over who is the most forgiving.

  Love,

  Diane

  “Pigeon?”

  I held the letter to my chest with one hand, and opened the door with the other. Travis’s face was tight with worry, but the second his eyes met mine, the worry fell away.

  He seemed stunned by the sight of me. “You’re . . . I don’t think there’s a word for how beautiful you are.”

  His sweet, chestnut eyes, shadowed by his thick eyelashes, soothed my nerves. His tattoos were hidden under his gray suit and crisp, white button-up. My God, he was perfection. He was sexy, he was brave, he was tender, and Travis Maddox was mine. All I had to do was walk down the aisle. “I’m ready.”

  “What did she say?” he asked.

  My throat tightened so a sob wouldn’t escape. I kissed him on the cheek. “That’s from her.”

  “Yeah?” he said, a sweet smile sweeping his face.

  “And she pretty much nailed everything wonderful about you, even though she didn’t get to watch you grow up. She’s so wonderful, Travis. I wish I could have known her.”

  “I wish she could have known you.” He paused a moment in thought, and then held up his hands.

  His sleeve inched back, revealing his PIGEON tattoo. “Let’s sleep on it. You don’t have to decide right now. We’ll go back to the hotel, think about it, and—” He sighed, letting his arms and shoulders fall. “I know. This is crazy. I just wanted it so bad, Abby. This crazy is my sanity. We can . . .”

  I couldn’t stand watching him stumble and struggle any longer. “Baby, stop,” I said, touching his mouth with three of my fingertips. “Just stop.”

  He watched me. Waiting.

  “Just so we’re straight, I’m not leaving here until you’re my husband.”

  At first his brows pulled in, dubious, and then he offered a cautious smile. “You’re sure?”

  “Where’s my bouquet?”

  “Oh!” Chantilly said, distracted by the discussion. “Here, honey.” She handed me a perfectly round ball of red roses.

  Elvis offered his arm, and I took it. “See you at the altar, Travis,” he said.

  Travis took my hand, kissed my fingers, and then jogged back the way he’d come, followed by a giggly Chantilly.

  That small touch wasn’t enough. Suddenly I couldn’t wait to get to him, and my feet quickly made their way to the chapel. The wedding march wasn’t playing, instead “Thing for You,” the song we danced to at my birthday party, came through the speakers.

  I stopped and looked at Travis, finally getting a chance to take in his gray suit and black Converse sneakers. He smiled when he saw the recognition in my eyes. I took another step, and then another. The officiant gestured for me to slow down, but I couldn’t. My entire body needed to be next to Travis more than it ever had been before. He must have felt the same way. Elvis hadn’t made it halfway before Travis decided to stop waiting and walked toward us. I took his arm.

  “Uh . . . I was gonna give ’er away.”

  Travis’s mouth pulled to one side. “She was already mine.”

  I hugged his arm, and we walked the rest of the way together. The music quieted, and the officiant nodded to both of us.

  “Travis . . . Abby.”

  Chantilly took my rose bouquet, and then stood to the side.

  Our trembling hands were knotted together. We were both so nervous and happy that it was almost impossible to stand still.

  Even knowing how much I truly wanted to marry Travis, my hands were trembling. I’m not sure what the officiant said exactly. I can’t remember his face or what he wore, I can only recall his deep nasally voice, his northeastern accent, and Travis’s hands holding mine.

  “Look at me, Pidge,” Travis said quietly.

  I glanced up at my future husband, getting lost in the sincerity and adoration in his eyes. No one, not even America, had ever looked at me with that much love. The corners of Travis’s mouth turned up, so I must have had the same expression.

  As the officiant spoke, Travis’s eyes poured over me, my face, my hair, my dress—he even looked down at my shoes. Then, he leaned over until his lips were just a few inches from my neck, and inhaled.

  The officiant paused.

  “I wanna remember everything,” Travis said.

  The officiant smiled, nodded, and continued.

  A flash went off, startling us. Travis glanced behind him, acknowledged the photographer, and then looked at me. We mirrored each other’s cheesy grins. I didn’t care that we must have looked absolutely ridiculous. It was like we were getting ready to jump off the highest high dive into the deepest river that fed into the most
magnificent, terrifying waterfall, right onto the best and most fantastic roller coaster in the universe. Times ten.

  “True marriage begins well before the wedding day,” the officiant began. “And the efforts of marriage continue well beyond the ceremony’s end. A brief moment in time and the stroke of the pen are all that is needed to create the legal bond of marriage, but it takes a lifetime of love, commitment, forgiveness, and compromise to make marriage durable and everlasting. I think, Travis and Abby, you’ve just shown us what your love is capable of in a tense moment. Your yesterdays were the path that led you to this chapel, and your journey to a future of togetherness becomes a little clearer with each new day.”

  Travis leaned his cheek to my temple. I was grateful he wanted to touch me where and whenever he could. If I could have hugged him to me and not disrupted the ceremony, I would have. The officiant’s words began to blur together. A few times, Travis spoke, and I did, too. I slipped Travis’s black ring onto his finger, and he beamed.

  “With this ring, I thee wed,” I said, repeating after the officiant.

  “Nice choice,” Travis said, admiring his ring.

  When it was Travis’s turn, he seemed to have trouble, and then slid two rings onto my finger: my engagement ring, and a simple, gold band.

  I wanted to take a moment to appreciate that he’d gotten me an official wedding band, maybe even say so, but I was having an out-of-body experience. The harder I tried to be present, the faster everything seemed to happen.

  I thought maybe I should actually listen to the list of things I was promising, but the only voice that made sense was Travis’s. “I damn sure do,” he said with a smile. “And I promise to never enter another fight, drink in excess, gamble, or throw a punch in anger . . . and I’ll never, ever make you cry sad tears again.”

  When it was my turn again, I paused. “I just want you to know, before I make my promises, that I’m super stubborn. You already know I’m hard to live with, and you’ve made it clear on dozens of occasions that I drive you crazy. And I’m sure I’ve driven anyone who’s watched these last few months crazy with my indecision and uncertainty. But I want you to know that whatever love is, this has got to be it. We were best friends first, and we tried not to fall in love, and we did anyway. If you’re not with me, it’s not where I want to be. I’m in this. I’m with you. We might be impulsive, and absolutely insane to be standing here at our age, six months after we met.