“Well, we don’t need to,” he says, unfolding the last part of the handkerchief to reveal a ring.
I feel tears spring immediately to my eyes, and my face crumples with recognition. I clap a hand over my mouth, as much to stop myself from crying out as from surprise.
“Your mom says it was Libby’s,” he says. I nod my head quickly, my hand still covering my mouth. “And she said that you should have it.”
The ring is polished gold with tiny diamonds sparkling around one side of it. It’s been in my family for generations, passed down from eldest daughter to eldest daughter on their wedding day. Libby only got to wear it for two short years before she was taken from us.
Tears are streaming down my face. I know how gut-wrenching it must have been for my mother to make this gesture, acknowledging me as her eldest daughter now, opening the wound of Libby’s loss once more.
Greyson gently pulls my hand from my mouth and kisses it.
“Alora Brooks,” he says, for the second time today. “Will you marry me?”
I wipe the tears from my cheeks, smiling through them, and nod.
“Yes,” I say. “Yes, I will.”
He slides the ring onto my finger and leans in to kiss me.
We lay back down in our bed, and Greyson holds me close as he recounts the conversation he had with my mother in the hall. How she said she was so proud of me, and that Libby would be so happy with the way I’m raising the girls.
I pull his arms tighter around me, staring out the window as the stars twinkle over Sunrise Valley. I run my thumb over the metal band around my ring finger and sigh, barely able to believe everything that’s happened in one short day. Or even in six short weeks.
The girls are just down the hall, sleeping soundly in their beds, and Greyson’s breathing is getting slower as he starts to drift off, his nose buried in my hair.
“Hey, Greyson,” I say, quietly.
“Mmm?” he murmurs.
“I love you.”
I feel him smile against my hair, and he pulls me in tighter and kisses the back of my head.
“I love you, too.”
Epilogue
Eighteen Months Later
Allie
I wake up and roll over, slinging my arm across the bed to pull myself closer to Greyson, only to find his side empty. It takes me a moment to remember what day it is, and why he’s not there.
I can already hear movement downstairs, and the smell of coffee is wafting up through the house and into the master bedroom. When I hit the button on the side of my phone to bring it to life, I can see that it’s just after 9 am.
“Shit!” I hiss and spring up out of bed.
I was sure I set my alarm for eight—but in all the excitement of last night, I must have forgotten.
“I slept late!” I say, a little panic in my voice, as I barrel into the kitchen.
Sadie is standing by the coffee machine, squinting at the little LCD screen as she waits for it to brew. Lottie and Emma are sitting at the table with Riley, Ethan and Emily’s daughter, happily munching on some cereal.
“That’s all right,” says Sadie, cool as a cucumber. “You have hours yet. And besides, the extra rest will do you good.”
“Good moooorning!” calls Sam as he enters the kitchen. He comes over to give me a quick squeeze, then we both perch ourselves on the stools at the breakfast bar and wait for Sadie to pour our coffee.
“One for you, Mary?” Sadie asks. I turn around to see my mom walking in, with River holding her hand.
“Oh, better not, dear,” says Mom. “I’m already a bag of nerves.”
“It’s me that’s getting married!” I grin at her.
“And you’ll be wonderful,” she replies, smiling. River skips over to help herself to some cereal, and Mom gives me a kiss on the cheek as she takes the stool beside mine.
“I made fruit salad,” says Sadie, eyeing me. “As requested, to ward off any untimely food babies.”
“What’s a food baby?” asks Mom.
“It’s when you eat lots of food and your belly does this!” says Sam, sticking out his gut as far as it will go. The girls at the table all giggle wildly at the sight.
We all eat breakfast together; the girls with their cereal, me and my mom (who is now adamantly avoiding a food baby herself) with our fruit salad, and Sadie and Sam tucking into eggs and toast.
When the hairdresser and the beautician arrive at the door, Sam decides to take his leave. He’s part of my bridal party, but his suit—cut from the same vibrant pink silk as my bridesmaids’ dresses—has been tailored at the same shop as Greyson and his groomsmen’s suits. He’s going to dress over at Eddie and Sadie’s place with the rest of them and meet me at the church. I really can’t wait to see him in a suit that’s as flamboyant as he is.
I can’t wait to see Greyson either, but whenever I think about him my tummy flips over, so I’m trying not to. Think about him, I mean. No point avoiding a food baby if you’re just going to make yourself sick with butterflies instead!
It takes a few hours for my hair to be set and styled and my makeup to be professionally applied. By the time I’m done, Sadie and my mom have not only gotten dressed themselves but have also—miraculously—managed to herd the girls into their dresses as well.
My mom offers to keep an eye on the gaggle of tiny bridesmaids that are now running loose around the house, while Sadie and I head upstairs to get my dress on.
“Thanks for doing this,” I say to Sadie, once we’re alone in the bedroom. I’m standing in front of a full-length mirror while Sadie straps me in.
“Helping you with your dress?” she asks.
“No. Being Maid of Honor. I know it’s not your thing, but it means a lot.”
“Are you kidding?” she asks, turning me around to face her. “Allie, I cannot think of a bigger honor in the entire world.” She pauses for a moment, and a glimmer of sadness passes across her face.
“I know that it would have been... should have been Libby here, helping you into this dress.” My eyes fall briefly downwards, and a pang shoots through my chest. “It means the world to me that you trust me to step into her shoes, even though I know I can’t ever fill them. It’s the best day of my life.”
I smile at her through a haze of tears, and a lump lodges in my throat. She’s right, it should have been Libby. But I couldn’t ask for a better big-sister-in-law than Sadie.
“But don’t tell your brother,” she continues. “He thinks it’s the second best.” She winks at me and I laugh, my sorrow dissipating before any tears have a chance to leak out of my eyes and ruin my very expensive makeup.
She stands back and looks me up and down, and a satisfied smile creeps onto her face.
“Wow,” she says. “Come on, let’s go make your mom cry.”
We’re barely halfway down the stairs when we hear a loud BEEP outside, followed by the familiar BING BONG of the old doorbell echoing through the house. As we reach the bottom, my mom is just opening the door. It’s my dad outside, come to ride with me to the church. They both look up and see me at the same time.
“Oh, my gosh,” says my mom, clapping a hand over her mouth.
Her eyes are instantly full of tears, in probably the most predictable reaction ever. But I’m surprised by the quiver of my dad’s lip as he looks me up and down.
“You look just wonderful, sweetheart,” he says, his voice shaking.
I can feel that swirl of emotion building in my tummy again, welling up in my eyes, and I flap my hands in front of my face to try and stop myself from crying.
“Thanks, Dad. Are the cars ready?”
He nods. I grab my flowers from the table in the hallway and head outside with him. We climb into one car, and Sadie, Mom, and the girls climb into the other. As we pull away from the mansion, it occurs to me that the next time I set foot in it will be as a wife. Greyson’s wife. I smile happily to myself at how natural it already feels to say that.
We’re suppos
ed to be married at 1 pm, so when we pull up outside the church at 1:02 the assistant pastor is outside, looking nervously at his watch.
“We’re all ready for you!” he says as we get out of the car.
There’s a flurry of activity as we get the girls in place. Sadie crouches down beside Emma, who’s carrying her adorable little flower-girl basket by her side, and goes over the petal-sprinkling instructions for her, one last time.
Mom gives me a kiss and rushes off to take her seat in the church. I try to catch a glimpse inside, to see what I’m about to walk into. The place looks packed, but I can’t really pick out anyone from here. I do see Ethan and Emily’s son, Leo, just inside the door. He’s nine years old now, but his little groomsman suit is obviously making him feel at least 12, given the way he’s standing with his shoulders back and his chest puffed out.
I furrow my brow. There’s no sign of the one person I’m expecting to see. “Where’s Sam?” I ask, looking around.
“Here!” he says, looking more flustered than I’ve ever seen him as he appears around the corner.
My brow remains furrowed as he approaches. “Sam, where’s your suit?” I ask. He’s wearing the same rich navy that Greyson and all the other groomsmen are wearing, not the pink that I ordered for him.
He tries to whisper something to me, but the first notes of the bridal march pipe up from inside the church and drown him out. I guess that’s the wedding equivalent of a starter’s pistol because everyone suddenly springs into motion at once. My dad loops his arm through mine, Sadie sends Emma off to sprinkle her petals, the girls snap into formation, Sam gets into position in the bridal procession behind me... and we’re off.
Greyson
I look over at Ethan and he’s looking right back at me, running his gaze all the way down to my feet and all the way back up again.
“Oh, shut up,” I whisper as his lips start to twitch again.
“I can’t,” he says, his shoulders shaking with silent laughter.
“Some best man you are.”
“Oh God,” he whispers, and he lets out a weird choking noise as he tries to hold in his glee. “The pictures are going to be amazing.”
I sigh.
It was Allie’s bright idea—and I mean that literally, in every sense—to have Sam be a “bridesman” and wear a suit that matched the rest of her bridesmaids’ dresses. And Sam was delighted—the prospect of wearing a flamboyantly pink suit to a wedding is right up his alley.
Unfortunately for me, and for the tailor who will soon be receiving the worst Yelp review in history, it is definitely not up my alley. But despite our best efforts to salvage the situation when the suits arrived with our measurements swapped, Sam was drowning in the pink and I couldn’t squeeze my left thigh into the waistband of his pants. Eddie’s jacket was way too short for me, and Ethan apparently has the shoulders of a gnat.
My options were to postpone the wedding, which was out of the question, or to take the L, wear this piece of art, and still get married to Allie today. So here I am. Standing in the church, about to marry the woman of my dreams… in a very skilfully-tailored pink suit.
A hush falls over the congregation as the pastor raises his arms for everyone to stand. The bridal march starts up and Ethan and I turn toward the pastor, who has been trying and failing not to stare at me since we showed up. I see little Emma from the corner of my eye as she lays down the last of her petals, just as she did in the rehearsal.
There is no such judgmental look in her eyes. She probably thinks this suit is the most amazing thing she has ever seen. She gives me a little wave, and I wink at her as she runs off to sit on the bride’s side with Sadie’s parents.
And then Allie steps into the room with her entourage, and my heart skips a beat. She looks absolutely radiant in her fitted ivory gown. But as she starts walking slowly down the aisle, and I can see her face more clearly, I know that we’re in big trouble.
Her eyes are as wide and as round as saucers, and I can see a hollow in her throat where she’s sucking it in to try and stop herself from laughing. Every few seconds, the urge to laugh seems to start getting the better of her and she has to look away—but then, as soon as it’s passed, her eyes are drawn irresistibly back to the suit. Her father, walking arm-in-arm with her, looks absolutely bemused. He keeps squinting at me as though he thinks there must be something wrong with his eyes, like cataracts are the most reasonable explanation for why his future son-in-law appears to be standing on the altar in a pink suit.
Things only get worse as she reaches the altar and pulls up beside me. She is staring intensely, directly at my eyes to try and stop herself looking at the suit. The sheer struggle to keep it together is etched across her face, and I have very little confidence that she’s going to be able to hold it in for this entire ceremony.
“Please be seated,” says the pastor, as the music falls silent. “On behalf of Alora and Greyson—”
The first tiny snort escapes Allie’s nose, and I hear another from Ethan behind me. I glance over to where Sadie is sitting with the other bridesmaids, and her entire face is squashed in on itself with the effort it’s taking not to laugh.
The whole thing is ridiculous, and I can feel my own facade beginning to crack.
“I welcome you here today, and I would like to express on their behalf my gratitude for—”
She does it again. I pull my lips in between my teeth and bite on them from the inside, trying to ward off a laugh. From somewhere in the pews a little ways behind me, there’s a quiet gasp, then a snicker.
Ethan can’t hold it anymore. A long, loud snort comes out of him, and Allie loses control. Then Sadie, then Eddie, then Allie’s parents. Like a dam bursting, the congregation dissolves into fits of laughter, one by one and then all at once, until I’m forced to give in and join them. Within a few seconds, the entire church is filled with uproarious laughter. Even the pastor is laughing.
“Oh my goodness!” cries Allie, with tears glittering along her lower lashes. “Look at you!”
“It was either this or wait,” I grin. “And I’m not waiting!”
It takes five minutes and a few words from the pastor before the laughter eventually dies down and we can get on with the ceremony.
The service is beautiful, and in the end, it turns out that the mixup with the suits was a blessing in disguise. All the nervous energy in the room, the kind that people always feel at a wedding, simply evaporated as soon as we all started laughing together. By the time Allie and I are saying our vows, everyone is relaxed and happy.
“I now pronounce you man and wife,” says the pastor, after I slip the ring onto Allie’s finger. “You may kiss the bride.”
I grab Allie and bend her backward, holding her securely in my arms, and press my lips to hers in front of all our witnesses. Our guests cheer and holler and clap, and I am the happiest man alive.
Six Months after the Wedding
Greyson
It’s a cold December afternoon, and I’m sitting in my office on a video call with Ethan. I haven’t seen Allie yet today, but I presume she’s in her studio working on this week’s cartoon.
Her webcomic business really took off after the first couple of months. Now she sells merch and prints, and people pay her hundreds of dollars for commissioned caricatures.
“All right, we’ll leave it there,” says Ethan. “And we’ll pick it up tomorrow. Enjoy your evening.”
Pleasantries duly exchanged, we end the call.
The girls are due home from school soon, which means that Allie will be coming back up to the house from her studio in the outbuilding. I pick up my empty mug from beside the wedding photo on my desk and grin when I catch sight of the fuchsia suit. I was so pissed when I realized I had to wear it, but it ended up making the best day of my life even more memorable. I can’t even look at it now without smiling.
“Hey,” I say, walking into the kitchen. Allie is standing near the counter with her back to me. She doesn’t say
anything, or even turn around to greet me, which is highly unusual for her.
“Knock, knock!” calls Sadie as she pushes the front door open to drop the kids home. “I can’t stay,” she continues, turning back towards the door as soon as the girls are safely inside. “Kids in the car. See you tomorrow!”
I notice Allie slip something into her pocket, and when she turns around there is a lingering look of shock on her face. But as soon as the girls come barreling in, it’s replaced by a bright smile that she beams toward them.
“Hey!” she says, reaching down to hug them both tight.
“Daddy, look!” Emma beams excitedly, rushing over to me with a piece of paper in her hand. I pluck her up from the ground and look at the picture, tapping my chin as I give it the consideration it deserves.
“Hmmm, yes… I love what you’ve done with the blue,” I say of the multicolor squiggles on the page, and she gives me a wide grin.
“All right, girls, you know the drill,” says Allie. “Upstairs, drop your bags off in your room, and wash your hands!”
The girls stampede up the stairs, and we’re suddenly alone again.
“Everything all right?” I ask Allie. She really seemed distracted before the girls came in. I’m starting to get a bit worried.
She looks up at me, chewing one side of her bottom lip, and nods.
I arch my brow. “Uh, okay. Are you sure? Because you’re being kinda weird.”
She nods again, then walks over to me and reaches into her pocket. When she pulls her hand out again, she’s holding an unassuming little white stick. She holds it out for me to take it.
It takes me a while to realize what it is, and a while longer to realize that she wouldn’t have given me a pregnancy test if it had come back negative.
My Smalltown C.E.O. Scrooge: A Festive Romantic Comedy Page 20
