Chapter 14
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
I was afraid Beau and I weren’t actually going to go through with getting married. What started as a fake fiancé fake out, almost turned into a marriage of convenience, but is now a wedding for real.
Despite what my family says about my pointless career, I manage to pull everything together on short notice, get us to New York, and prove to myself that I’m a professional.
As if reading my thoughts as she applies my eye makeup, Juniper says, “You are a master at organizing multiple moving parts.”
“Except for makeup and hair.”
She singsongs, “That’s why you have me.”
I tap on my phone, instructing the string quartet where to set up, complete with a photograph of the space interposed with an illustration of their placement.
“It’s your wheelhouse.”
The caterer pokes her head in. “Where do you want the frosting fount and bowls of cake squares?”
“On the dessert table please.”
“More like a gifting,” Juniper says.
The caterer salutes me.
“Please tell me you’re not making guests assemble the cake.”
“No, we have a real cake too.”
“Please tell me you have a hockey player groom topper.”
“If one-day delivery pulls through then yes, there will be a hockey player groom cake topper.”
She arches her eyebrow. “And what about the bride?”
“She’s just a regular one with red hair.”
“You know you’re not a ‘Regular one.’ Certainly not in Beau’s eyes.”
Scenes from the last months flit through my mind of us dancing, skating, scheming, running, snuggling. She’s right. Beau doesn’t smile much, but the way he looks at me is the biggest expression of happiness I’ve ever seen.
Juniper says, “Your event planning skills are an art form, really. Creating special experiences for people is amazing, though, I had no idea you were so into St. Patrick’s Day, what with all the green and gold.”
“I’m not, but considering what seemed like bad luck for the Leprechauns, actually brought Beau and I together, so it felt weird to waste it.”
Juniper says, “I’m glad your first wedding is yours.”
“So I can be my own guinea pig?”
“No, because you deserve to be the first person—well, you and Beau as a couple—to experience the kind of attention and thoughtfulness that you provide.”
“I’m not sure how great that looks on my resume for potential future customers, but I’m grateful that you agreed to be my maid of honor on short notice.”
“The only possible answer was yes. Plus, I got to meet your hockey guy.”
She knows the whole story about how things started and how they’re going, which is exceptionally well. After Beau told me about his boy band secret and the promise he made to his grandfather, two things happened.
First, we spent every moment together planning the wedding. He deferred to my expertise but wanted to take part and be supportive of my work even though it’s for us. We didn’t even argue over tablecloths or tartan.
Second, I spent hours watching 5PRNZS footage, and that resulted in me getting one of their hit songs stuck in my head. They’re super catchy. This explains why he’s such a good dancer too. Knowing this part of Beau’s past helps me understand him better, but he still won’t sing for me. Maybe on our honeymoon?
“You’re daydreaming about your beau, aren’t you?”
“My good luck beau,” I say, my voice all floaty.
“He said that you’re his good luck charm. Aren’t you two the cutest?”
Turning to Juniper, a little squeal of excitement that’s been building all day escapes. We jump up and down like only two best friends can.
When she catches her breath, Juniper asks, “Are you nervous?”
“About the ceremony? I’m fluttery with excitement. The reception? It’s all planned out in fine detail to run smoothly. My family? Well, I couldn’t not invite them so we shall see if they behave themselves or?—”
I’ve run through every worst-case scenario and pray for divine intervention if necessary.
Once we’re all ready, we take a car service to the church. There are numerous people I don’t recognize who must be Beau’s family and friends from afar. Members of both the Ward and Cabot clans fill the stone steps in the front and they slowly filter inside. It’s not as big a turnout as Maxine and Marlon’s wedding because of the long-distance travel and short notice, but I’m sure there’s someone here with a secret camera, waiting for hashtag wedding fail moments, bloopers, or—I spot Celeste staring me down—to uncover a big fat farce.
Thankfully, this is real. What Beau and I have is true. No more back and forth, doubts, insecurities, or secrets. We’re in it ... forever.
We go inside the church which smells like wood polish and candle wax. The musicians tune their instruments. My heart pounds erratically and then someone clasps my hand. I whirl around, preparing for Great Aunt Margaret or Uncle Harlan to warn me about something, but the hand is bigger, the palm covered in calluses. Beau pulls me into an empty hallway.
Taking me into his arms, he whispers, “You look radiant. Beautiful. Gorgeous. I walked into this backward, Margo, but it turns out I’m the luckiest man alive. You are amazing and lovable. When I told your mother and sister that I was going to adore, serve, and love you for the rest of our lives, I didn’t realize how true those words were. But they are. We are. I want you to know that I very much want to do this with you for real.”
Apparently, he has a lot to say on this matter.
Whereas Beau is usually the quiet one, I’m rendered speechless. I know I’m marrying a handsome man, but my almost-husband is a stud dressed in his tuxedo, with his hair trimmed, his face freshly shaved, and his eyes bright.
My jaw lowers. “Wow. You shaved.”
He rubs his hand on his jaw. “I did. Is it okay?”
“Beau Hammer, it is more than okay.” I kiss him on the cheek.
His eyes float up and down my face. “I saw you come in and couldn’t resist,” he whispers.
“Isn’t it bad luck for us to see each other before the ceremony?”
“We have our own luck. It’s perfect luck. I saw you and didn’t want to wait.”
“Wait for what?”
He leans in, kissing me. I inhale his crisp northern air and wheat-dried-in-the-sun scent. With him, my breath comes easy. No deep water. No desire to run. No bicycle in sight. At last, the triathlon is over.
When we part, I say, “We’re doing things out of order.” Then, thinking about how he’d carefully ordered his life, I wonder maybe if this is a good thing.
“We have our own rules.”
“Are we really doing this?” I ask even though I’m certain of the answer.
He waggles his eyebrows. “It looks that way.”
“There’s just one thing.” I clear my throat.
His features remain schooled, but his eyes flash as if anticipating the opposite of what I’m about to say.
“Something I haven’t told you.” I clasp the back of his neck and plant my hand on his chest. “Beau, before we exchange our vows, I want you to know that I love you.”
As if it hadn’t stopped, the kiss resumes and this time when we part, he says, “I don’t know much about love. Where it comes from. How it develops. What happens when it does? But I do know a thing or two about secrets. I won’t keep anything from you after this. I have one more to tell you. I love you too, Margo.”
My heart could sing. Though, maybe I’ll leave that to him.
Beau goes on, “I’m going to tell you that I love you every day for the rest of our lives. More importantly, I’m going to show you.”
We exchange one more kiss on the lips.
“Are we ready?” I ask.
“We’re ready.”
I really like the notion of we . I’m in his corner and he’s in mine.
Everyone takes their places, with Micah, Hayden, Redd, Ted, and Pierre as groomsmen. Juniper smiles like she’s in hockey heaven—not because she’s surrounded by a bunch of attractive men, but because she’s probing them about the upcoming game. Perhaps she’s now on Team Knights.
My dad took the day off from playing golf and we link arms at the end of the aisle. The music starts and my thoughts settle. Gratitude for all my so-called failures fills me because had they not happened, I wouldn’t be here, walking toward my future.
Just like I saw when Beau showed me how beautiful I am in the mirror, all I see in his eyes is love along with appreciation and a flickery little flame of longing.
If he’s watching and I know he is, he’ll see the same in mine.
Our commitment to each other started before this moment, but as the ceremony begins, we’re solidifying it.
The officiant gets to the part where he says, “Should anyone present know of any reason that this couple should not be joined in holy matrimony, speak now or forever hold your peace.”
My heart races.
It’s like the room holds its breath.
Hands clasped, Beau’s gaze beams with confidence.
But then I hear the shift of fabric, the creak of a wooden bench. Someone clears their throat and I know who it is before she speaks.
Like a woman from the Regency era, Celeste shouts a dramatic “I doth protest.”
Everyone gasps.
My chest craters.
Beau’s grip on my hands tightens.
My sister continues, “I speak now.”
The officiant stutters, apparently never having anyone actually object.
Shoving past the people seated next to her, Celeste steps into the aisle. “I’m not going to hold my peace because this wedding is a fraud. A total sham. There’s no way Beau is motivated to marry Margo for any reason other than he needs his green card.”
He blinks a few times.
“He’s here legally on a work visa,” Coach Badaszek hollers.
Celeste says, “Then you’re paying him off.”
My dad winces. “Actually, we just got a notice for Margo from a debt collector. I don’t think she has the funds to pay anyone off.”
“Okay, then how about this?” Celeste lifts her phone and the tinny sound of a crowd cheering comes weakly through the speaker.
Beau braces himself as if he knows what’s coming.
Celeste glares at him. “You shouldn’t have shaved. That gave it away.”
I turn to him. “I’m quite pleased at this fresh look.”
His lips twist as he tries to resist a smile.
A tune I recently learned by heart comes through the phone.
“I know this song,” I say and start singing along at the top of my voice.
For several uncomfortable seconds, the entire congregation is quiet except for the bellow of my tone-deaf caterwaul and the cell phone playing the 5PRNZS hit. Finally, a few others join me, presumably the Concordians.
It’s a relatively short bop with a catchy hook. A few of my great-aunts dance in their seats.
When we get to the end, Celeste looks smugly pleased with herself whether because I embarrassed myself or because this somehow changes things, I’m not sure.
To my sister, the officiant says, “Miss, that is not a lawful reason to prevent this union. If anyone has a valid reason to object, this is your chance. Otherwise, we’re going to proceed.”
He offers us an apologetic nod.
Meanwhile, my sister marches up and down the aisle, shouting frantically about how this is fake. “I just know it!”
Taking a breath, I lift my voice. “Celeste. Enough. You’re not wrong.”
She falls silent, mercifully. Her lips curl into a wicked smile. “See. Told you so.”
“At Maxine and Marlon’s wedding, I made up the story that Beau was my fiancé.”
“I knew it—” Celeste interrupts with a hiss.
“For the love, let her finish,” the officiant says.
“We were going to leave it at that, but then Beau suggested a marriage of convenience.”
“So you’re both guilty of this fraud.”
“I’m not done. Then we started spending time together. Got to know each other. Learned that what looked like bad luck, was actually the best kind of luck. We’re in love. What we have is real. There’s no incentive for us to do this other than wanting to spend the rest of our lives together.”
Beau adds, “The only fake thing was the lifetime of lies we told ourselves. But now we know the truth.” He turns to me. “I love Margo. You can rant and rave all you like, but nothing will ever change that.”
Everyone erupts into applause while Celeste spouts on, trying to pick our story apart.
An ensemble of women get to their feet. I recognize Meg, Delaney, Whit, Harlow, and Cara. There are murmurings along the lines of, Pull yourself together. You are a very unhappy woman . Envy isn’t a good look . You’re embarrassing yourself . We can help .
Juniper raises her hand, stands, and then says, “I do not object to your love.”
Everyone claps.
Then the room is finally quiet again. Beau and I exchange a look and burst into laughter. I’m pretty sure a few of the hockey guys exclaim in surprise because they’d never heard him laugh before. But I have and plan to for a long, long time.
When we collect ourselves, the officiant kind of rushes ahead to declare us husband and wife. We kiss again and I wobble a little in my heels because my foot pops, catching on my gown. As ever, Beau steadies me. And I know that no matter where life takes us, he’ll never fail me, and for my part, I’ll do my best to tease out his smile. To make sure he knows he can trust me. That he can speak or sing if he wants to, but quiet is okay too.
The receiving line is both delightful as people congratulate us and awkward as I field questions about the singing hockey star. I can tell Beau wishes he had his beard back. Seems like it’s easier to say less when people can’t see his expressions. And boy, does he have a lot. It’s like reading an entirely different person.
Except for the lips. I’m getting to know those well.
I meet his parents, who’re stiffly pleasant, likely behaving themselves, unlike my family who pick apart everything from the biodegradable green and gold confetti everyone tosses to the peculiarity of the St. Patrick’s Day theme.
Celeste is unusually quiet and I’m guessing the hockey WAGs handled it. I owe them big words of gratitude. Maybe a party. Hmm. A hockey girls’ day? My mother doesn’t say much either and the more I think about it, I think my newfound female friends are right. They’re unhappy people. Probably because love is missing from their lives.
I made vows to Beau and I make a promise to myself. I’m not going to withhold my love, not even from the people in my life who don’t necessarily seem like they deserve it. But he does, and most of it goes to him.
When we get outside, music plays loudly and bunch of people dressed in green crowd into a gold classic convertible from the 1960s. They wave and toss candy to people lining the streets. A marching band follows along with floats decorated for Saint Patrick’s Day. The stream of festive celebration as far as I can see in both directions.
“It’s almost like they did this just for us,” I say.
Beau chuckles.
As we descend the steps, people in the parade must notice because they start cheering for us. All at once, we’re ushered into a horse-drawn carriage.
On the back is a sign that says, Just Married .
“Wait, did you plan this?”
He answers with a wink.
At the reception, Beau and I step up to the Irish band’s microphone to make the customary toast.
He says, “Ladies first.”
“We’ve only known each other since around the new year and have only been married for a few hours, but I already know a lot about Beau. He sticks up for the people he cares for. He watches the sunrise on his birthday. He’s a loyal friend and teammate, and an outstanding hockey player. He always keeps his promises.” Turning to him, I add, “And I’m looking forward to many years of doing life together, making memories, and getting to know you better.”
He kisses my temple and takes the mic. “There are people—women—that you can live with. Then there’s the one that you can’t live without. You’re that girl, Honey Butter. My wife.”
Something about those last two words untether me from the past, and bond us together in the best of ways. I float onto my toes—last time I’m wearing high heels—and kiss him.
Then he adds, “But there is one more thing.”
I feel my face falling. A secret?
“You’ve never heard me sing.”
My lips rise again because is this about to happen?
The band begins to play and then Beau croons a song, telling me all the ways he’s going to love me for the rest of our lives.
Had this been a few months ago, I would’ve been mortified, wishing to crawl into a hole and hide, completely resistant to everything he professes simply because I wouldn’t believe it could be possible. At least not for me.
But the sincerity in his eyes and the smile on his lips tell me every word is true. I receive it, right into my heart.
When the song ends, everyone goes wild with cheering and clapping which soon shifts into them chanting, “Drop the Hammer.” That morphs into the MC Hammer song that plays when the Knights’ goalie blocks a shot.
We join hands and I take one, landing right on Beau’s lips and then we have our first dance as husband and wife.