by Amelia Mae
“But I’ve been working really hard to stop doing that. You know, to stop thinking like mine is the only opinion that matters.”
“Well, you kind of botched that up today,” I chide.
“I know. But without you, I wouldn’t have been able to come as far as I have. Without you, I probably would have lost the band. I could have lost everything,” he says.
I feel a little less mad.
“I’m not going to push you, Jane,” he assures me. “But when you’re ready to come out of that bathroom, I’ve got something I’d like to show you.”
I tiptoe out of the bathroom and into our room, where Dylan is sitting on the bed, leaning against the headboard. His laptop rests on his thighs.
“What did you want to show me?” I ask.
Dylan nods at the space next to him. Despite my residual resentment, I climb onto the bed next to him. I feel warmth radiating off of him, and I relish in his familiar scent.
I’ll always want to be near Dylan if given the option. Even when I’m pissed at him.
He opens up his email, and I read over his shoulder. I nudge him with my head so he’ll open his arm and wrap it around me, and I can lean against him.
“I love that noise,” he says.
“What noise?”
I didn’t realize I’d made a sound.
“That kind of satisfied, mumbly noise you make sometimes,” he explains.
“Oh.”
“You’re hard to read, Jane,” he says. “And you don’t always tell me what’s going on. When I can get you to make that noise, I feel like I’m doing something right.”
“You do a lot right, Dylan,” I tell him.
“I hope so.” He finds the email he’s looking for and shows me the screen. “Here, this is what I was trying to show you before.”
“What am I looking at?”
“This is the email that I sent your mother,” he says. “All of them.”
“There were more than one?”
I scroll through. There are nineteen emails here.
“Wow, you were persistent,” I tell him. “There are seven here from the same week. I’m surprised she didn’t report you for harassing her.”
“I think the worst she could have done was block me,” he counters. “But she didn’t.”
I read the first one.
Dear Ms. Dooley,
My name is Dylan Cotter and I’ve asked your daughter to marry me. I realize that your relationship with Jane is strained, but when I asked for Jane’s hand, I promised that I would try and give her everything she wanted for the rest of her life. And I know that it would mean the world to her if you would attend our wedding.
Sincerely,
Dylan Cotter
“That’s nice of you,” I tell him.
“Keep reading.”
I scroll through a few more and with every ignored email, Dylan’s tone gets more harsh.
Ms. Dooley,
I’ve tried to keep an open mind and remain free of judgement, but I don’t understand why you refuse to respond to my messages. I am asking for one day, simply a few hours from your life that would mean so much to Jane.
-Dylan Cotter
“See, you don’t get it,” I tell him. “That’s how she is. She doesn’t care that it would mean something to me.”
“I know.”
I put the laptop down. This is getting depressing.
“Just… read the last one,” he encourages.
“Fine.”
Ms. Dooley,
Jane is the absolute love of my life. She is bright and warm and a truly amazing woman, not because of her mother, but in spite of her. I will never understand your refusal to be a part of her life, or our wedding, but you have missed out.
I can’t believe that someone would miss out on being around someone like Jane, and I vow never to make your mistake. I will never make the mistake of letting Jane Dooley go.
-Dylan Cotter
“You really mean that?” I ask.
“Of course I do,” he says. “It’s not that I don’t believe you when it comes to your relationship with your mother. It’s that I don’t believe her. I don’t understand how someone wouldn’t want you around.”
“And now you’ve seen it with your own eyes.”
“I have.”
Dylan holds me closer and kisses my temple.
“I’m so sorry, Jane,” he says. “I know I’ve said it about a million times today. But I’m sorry. For everything. For the parts of this that I can control, and the parts that I can’t.”
“I forgive you.”
“Really?” he asks, hope creeping into his voice.
I nod and Dylan pulls me into his lap and kisses me slowly and deeply, like if he stops kissing me, I’ll run away forever.
“I love you so much, Jane.”
“I love you, too.”
Dylan opens the bedside table and pulls out an envelope. It’s the same kind we used to mail out our wedding invitations.
“I wanted to show you this too,” he says.
I take the envelope from his hand and open it. Inside there’s one of our invitations. It’s addressed to Robert and Martha Cotter.
“You’re inviting your parents?” I ask, astounded.
He nods.
“I don’t know if they’ll actually come, but…”
I smile ear to ear.
“Some fences are broken forever, but I think this one can be mended,” he says. “I’ve also invited all of my siblings. Viv and Justine have already said yes. We’ll see about the others.”
“I’m so proud of you.”
He sighs out, satisfied.
He laughs. “So, big question… Jane, do you still want to marry me?”
“More than anything.”
Twenty-Nine
Dylan
“You look good, man,” Dean says as I finish up with my tie. I look at it in the mirror. It’s not great.
“Can you help me with this?” I ask. “I haven’t tied a tie in a long time.”
“No problem.”
Dean fixes my tie and pats my shoulder.
“I don’t think I ever thought I’d see the day when you got married,” he says.
“Me neither.”
My cousin, who is my best man, looks at me thoughtfully.
“Are you ready?” he asks. “’Cause it’s not too late to make a break for it.”
“Seriously, Dean?” I answer, laughing. “Kelvin would skin you alive if you helped me run away from Jane.”
“I know. I was kidding.”
“Good. ‘Cause I’ve never been more sure about anything,” I tell him.
My phone dings with a text. From Jane. I read it without Dean being able to see what I’m looking at.
Jane: Doing okay?
Jane: Not planning to escape, are you?
Dylan: No way.
Dylan: You better not be either.
“Who are you texting?” Dean asks.
“My side piece.”
“Not funny, Dylan.”
I keep texting Jane.
Dylan: You’re not nervous, are you?
Jane: A little.
Dylan: Cold feet?
Jane: Not about you. But about standing up there in front of all those people…
Dylan: I hear you.
I tuck a small jewelry box into my jacket pocket. I meant to give this to Jane after the ceremony, but somehow, I think she needs this now.
“That better be Jane and not an Uber driver ready to take you to the airport,” Dean chides.
“What’s with the runaway groom jokes?” I ask, laughing. “Jane just made one too. Am I giving off nervous vibes?”
Dean gives me a once-over. “Actually… no.”
“Right. ‘Cause I don’t want to be anywhere else.”
“That’s good to hear. Jane is perfect for you, man,” he says. “If you weren’t marrying Jane… Let’s just say I don’t think another woman would ever be right for you.�
��
“I agree,” I tell him, picturing Jane getting ready in the bridal suite.
Dean smiles. “Kelvin just texted me. He says Jane’s excited and she looks beautiful.”
“I’m sure she does.”
“He also says that if you break her heart, he’ll kill you.”
“I don’t doubt that.”
I look at the clock on the wall. We’ve got about half an hour before the ceremony starts. I send off one final text to Jane.
Dylan: I’ll come to you. Be there in five minutes.
“I’m just going to get some air,” I tell Dean.
He gives me a suspicious look.
“Fine. I’m going to see Jane,” I assure him.
I reach the bridal suite and knock on the door.
“Jane, are you alone?” I call.
“Yes.”
“Good. I’m coming in.”
“No!”
“What?”
“Dylan, you can’t see me before the ceremony starts,” she screeches. “It’s bad luck.”
“But…”
“Um… close your eyes,” she says.
“What?”
“You can only come in if you close your eyes.”
“Okay.”
I open the door to the suite with my eyes closed and enter slowly.
“They’re really closed?” Jane asks.
“They’re really closed,” I tell her. “I can’t see a thing.”
“What color are the flowers on the table?”
“Um… purple?”
“There aren’t flowers on the table,” she says, sounding relieved.
“So, right answer then?” I wonder. My eyes are closed, and I cover them with my hand. I can hear her laughing. I’m dying to see what she looks like. To finally see Jane as a bride.
Soon enough.
“You still nervous?” I ask, reaching for her.
She takes my hand in hers.
“Yeah. I’m feeling better now, though.”
“I have something for you,” I tell her, reaching for the jewelry box in my jacket pocket. “I was saving this for tonight, after everything. But I think you need it now.”
She takes the tiny box and opens it.
“Such a pretty necklace,” she says.
“It’s a locket, actually.”
She raises an eyebrow.
“Open it.”
She does, carefully. I want to watch her light up when she sees the picture, but I’m keeping my word and keeping my eyes shut. I’ll have to settle for listening to her gasp when she realizes what’s in there.
“Oh my God, Dylan,” she whispers.
It’s the picture on our mantle of her grandparents on their wedding day.
“It’s perfect,” she says, her voice kind of breathy like she’s trying not to cry.
“I know we decided not to get married in Ireland or in their church,” I say, gently. “But… I think they’re here today. I know there are a lot of people around, and you’re nervous about facing them. And that the people you’d actually want to be here can’t be.”
I hear her let out a shaky breath.
“I love you so much, Jane,” I tell her. “I’m honored that you’re going to marry me, and I promise that we’ll face everything together. Including this crowd.”
“I love you, Dylan.” Her voice is barely audible. “So much.”
Thirty
Jane
“M’lady,” Kelvin says, jovially, offering me his arm.
“So cheesy.”
“Just looking to liven up the mood,” he says. “You look like you’re going to pass out.”
“I’m not.”
The processional starts. Nikki and Jack start down the aisle followed by Shawn and Aya. Dean offers his arm to Julia and they walk into the ceremony space.
Then the music changes to a traditional wedding march but played on acoustic guitar. Our guests stand.
And then all eyes are on me.
“A little advice, Jane,” Kelvin whispers. “Don’t look at them. Don’t look at any of them. Just look at Dylan.”
So I do.
He’s standing alone at the altar in a black suit looking like a rockstar who got glammed up for a GQ shoot. He’s ten kinds of gorgeous, and I can hardly stand it. I feel like I want to walk towards him faster.
He looks back at me and his mouth opens.
There are tears in his eyes.
As I approach Dylan, he takes both of my hands and leans in to kiss my cheek.
“Oh my God, Jane,” he says. “You look… Oh my God.”
“And you…”
I’m cut off by the officiant. “Good afternoon, everyone. We’re here today to celebrate the marriage of Jane Dooley and Dylan Cotter.”
Dylan squeezes my hands and keeps eye contact with me as the officiant speaks. I literally don’t look at the guests the entire time. I just look at Dylan.
Who will be my husband in a matter of minutes.
The officiant goes through the traditional vows. While Dylan and I aren’t the most traditional couple, I like the idea of us being married by the same words that married millions of other couples for hundreds of years.
Including my grandparents.
“Do you, Jane, take Dylan to be your lawfully wedded husband?” he asks me.
“I do,” I say, solemnly.
“And do you, Dylan, take Jane…”
“Yes,” he says, cutting her off. “I do.”
“You may now kiss the bride,” the officiant tells Dylan.
Dylan leans in and presses his lips to mine. It’s a sweet kiss, totally chaste and crowd appropriate, but his lips are soft, and he kisses like he means it. It’s our first kiss as a married couple, and I feel it in my soul.
When the kiss breaks, Dylan smiles.
“You’re stuck with me, Jane,” he murmurs. “No take-backs.”
I shake my head no. No way.
“You’re mine.”
Epilogue
Jane
Morning light peaks in through the blinds in our bedroom.
“We haven’t decided on a honeymoon,” Dylan points out.
“Dylan, I have to be honest,” I say, rolling over in bed. “I don’t want to go anywhere.”
“Really?”
“I just want to lie in this bed and do nothing. Forever,” I tell him.
I move so I’m lying half on top of Dylan, needing to keep touching him, keep his warm skin on mine, even though we’ve been like this together all night.
“You’re just saying that ‘cause you’re tired,” he says. “And you haven’t slept.”
“Hmm… Maybe.”
We’ve been married for about a month now, and Dylan’s set to head back on tour with Say Yes pretty soon. So if we’re going to have a honeymoon, we’re going to have to do it soon.
I get on top of Dylan and straddle his waist.
“I thought you were tired,” he says with a laugh.
“I am, I think,” I reply. “But, like… so tired I couldn’t sleep if I wanted to, so I may as well have my way with my husband again.”
“I can get on board with that,” he says, his hands on my ass.
I lean in to kiss him, teasing him with my tongue. I run it along his bottom lip slowly, goading him back to life. He sucks my tongue into his mouth suddenly.
“You’re going to kill me, you know that?” he mutters.
I want to say something witty and sexy, but nothing comes out except a moan.
Dylan chuckles like he’s up to something. Then, he grabs me by the hips and flips me onto my back, and I gasp again.
“Full of surprises this morning,” I joke.
But Dylan’s not in the mood for jokes, he’s getting right down to business. He jockeys into position, lining up the tip of his cock with my entrance.
“Just go slowly,” I whisper. “I’m a little sore.”
Dylan nods and kisses me slowly and deeply as he eases himself inside of me. I di
g my nails into his back, wanting more of him. Wanting him closer.
“Jane… so good,” he whispers. He grabs my ass cheek and squeezes before guiding my leg around his waist. “So perfect. Fuck, I love you so much.”
I squeeze around his cock, scratching and scraping his back.
“Harder,” I order him.
Dylan responds by slamming into me so hard I scream him name.
“More,” I cry out. “Fuck. More. Please.”
He rams into me repeatedly, fucking me desperately, like he can’t get deep enough inside me. Can’t get enough of me. He’s grunting against my lips, biting, and kissing me.
Dylan’s usually the one in control. I’m usually the one moaning and panting and losing my mind, so seeing him like this is new and pretty amazing.
His face is flushed, and he’s burning hot.
“Come for me,” I tell him. “Come on, baby.”
“Fucking love that. Call me baby again.”
I kiss him, with as much power as I can muster. I’m on the brink of an orgasm.
“Please, baby,” I beg him. “Ugh.”
I feel Dylan pulse and start to come and I’m seconds behind him.
“Oh, God,” I grunt out.
After he’s come, Dylan lies on top of me. For a while, I don’t mind. He’s like a warm human blanket, and I like feeling his breath on my skin and his heart beating against mine.
But after a while…
“Dylan, I need to get up. Or at least switch places with me,” I say, laughing.
He flops over on his back, very naked and not bothering to cover himself. He pulls me next to him and I bury my head in his shoulder.
We stay like that for… I have no idea how long. Minutes. Hours.
Doesn’t matter.
Not when we’re together like this.
“We still need to decide on a honeymoon,” he says. “And we should probably do it soon if we’re going to go somewhere before the tour starts.”
I sigh out, contented.
“So… where do you want to go? For real?” he asks. “Up to you. Anywhere.”
“Dylan, I don’t know. I mean, I feel like I don’t care where we go as long as we’re together,” I say, despite sounding like the cheesiest person in the world. “I’d be happy just staying here for a week.”
