Chapter 22 Wedding Bells
wedding bells
DAPHNE
“Any word from him?”
I shake my head.
The officiant is a woman in her late 60s, standing a little shorter than me, with flowing grey hair, an ornate ring on every finger, and a severe expression on her face.
I promised this would be a short affair, in and out in a few minutes so she could get home before dinner. God, I hope Frankie shows up soon.
Hux puts a hand on my shoulder, giving it a squeeze.
“Any reason he might have been held up?”
You know that feeling you get when an elevator suddenly jolts and you feel like you’re about to lose your lunch? Imagine that, but it’s happening every three seconds. I have to keep looking down at my feet to make sure they’re still firmly planted on the ground.
“Last message I got was a couple hours ago. He was still in the waiting room.”
“Okay, well, I’ve got a plan B just in case he’s bailed.”
“He didn’t bail. He’s in Urgent Care.”
I turn to see Hux with a resigned look on his face, and I can tell he doesn’t like what he’s about to say.
“Okay, regardless, this is my job. So, plan B is we wait another half hour tops, and if Frankie no-shows I’ll take his place. I can explain things to Katrina. She’ll probably be a bit pissed, but it’ll be fine. It’s just a piece of paper, right?”
“Right…”
A very consequential piece of paper. Maybe that extra time thinking about things in the waiting room was enough to— No, Frankie’s not like that. He’s too up front and honest to bail without saying anything. He always has been.
“He’ll be here,” I whisper. “We made a deal.”
Is this what grasping at straws feels like?
“Mom, are we still going to the carnival?” Violet asks. “I checked online and it’s only open until 11:00.”
I told her she didn’t have to dress up, so Violet’s rocking her favorite Snoopy sweatshirt and a pair of jeans, her thick red hair pulled back into an elegant braid. Ever since she heard we were heading to the carnival after the wedding, it’s all she’s wanted to talk about.
“It’ll be fine, we’ll make it. We just have to wait a few more minutes for—”
“Sorry! I’m so sorry, guys!”
The muffled sound of Frankie’s voice floats down the hall outside, and I whip around just in time to see him burst through the little office door, his forehead glistening with sweat.
“I got my buddy to drop me off at home so I could grab my bike, but then it wouldn’t start, and when I finally got it working traffic was insane, and it turns out my phone died back in the waiting room, and then—” He takes a deep breath. “I forgot my suit jacket. Sorry, Firecracker.”
Frankie’s in a dark blue cable knit sweater and black jeans, with his scuffed up motorcycle boots bringing the whole unexpected ensemble together.
I fling my arms around him, squeezing tight, and just like that, all dread that was coursing through my body evaporates into thin air.
“You look great. I’m just glad you’re here.”
He chuckles.
“Did you think I ghosted you?”
“I wasn’t sure,” I sigh. “I thought you might have gotten freaked out— I’m sorry, it’s just—”
“Where’s your walrus mustache?” Violet cuts in, looking Frankie up and down.
“Probably in a trash can in the doctor’s office. Guess what it smelled like.”
“What?” She grins.
“Farts!”
Violet giggles as Frankie extends his hand.
“You must be Violet, your mom’s told me lots of things about you. Some of them were even good!”
“Did she tell you I like chocolate chip pancakes? Because that’s important if you’re sticking around.”
Frankie’s grin widens.
“Do you want those for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, or is there more to the menu?”
“We can negotiate,” Violet replies, her eyes twinkling.
“My only stipulation is that you let me taste-test them first. Just in case.” He turns to Huxley, offering his hand. “Frankie Hughes. It’s nice to meet you.”
“You too, man. Huxley Bell.”
“Oh, I know. That match you had with Zeus Dunne just before you retired was crazy,” Frankie says. “Hardcore rules, with tables and tacks and all that? Shit was fire.”
“Thanks, man. I appreciate it.”
Huxley is beaming, which doesn’t surprise me. The quickest way to this man’s heart the last few years is to ask him about his glory days. He still keeps up the same physique he had when he was wrestling, still does a lot of the drills. I think there’s a part of him that’s aching to get back to it.
“Alright, folks, I’ve got a frozen lasagna and an episode of Law & Order waiting for me at home, so can we get this show on the road?”
Frankie grimaces, handing over the marriage license to the officiant.
“Carol, really, I’m so so—”
“Stuff the sorries in a sack, Francis.” She smirks. “Now come and sign this paperwork. Both of you.”
I smile at Frankie.
“Alright, you ready?”
He grins, snatching up the pen and scrawling his name in sharp, slanted cursive.
Francis Anthony Hughes.
“Very nice.” Carol murmurs. “Daphne? Your turn.”
Fun fact about me: I have two signatures.
One is for autograph resellers, or really any situation where I have to bang-out a lot of them in a short time, which is basically just a loop with a single line sticking out of it.
The second one’s much more elaborate, and I save it for the real fan interactions, the ones where you get to chat and really get to know them.
I guess it’s also for stuff like this as well, big looping swirls, right on the dotted line.
Daphne Sinead Carmichael.
“Perfect!” Carol chirps. “I now pronounce you husband and wife. If you want to kiss, now’s the time.”
I turn to Frankie, who’s already extended his hand.
“Such a gentleman.”
I’m surprised by the slight tinge of disappointment I feel, but I can’t help but laugh.
“Don’t leave me hangin’ here, Daph.”
I grasp his hand with a warm smile, shaking it gently as Carol gathers up her bags.
“Congratulations, you two.” She calls, already halfway out of the office. “You can leave the paperwork on the desk, and I’ll file it all in the morning. Right now, I got a hot date with ADA Rafael Barba, so get your butts in gear.”
I’ll be honest, this is far from what I dreamed up when I was 8 years old, meticulously planning Ken and Barbie’s wedding in front of Barbie’s Dreamhouse, but life never goes according to plan.
We follow Carol out of the building with Violet at our heels, chatting away about all the things she’s going to do at the carnival.
“We gotta get mini donuts, and then go on some rides— do they have a rollercoaster?”
“They do!” Frankie chirps. “It’s a smaller one, but it has a loop so you go upside down and everything.”
She lets out an excited little squeal, and I’m starting to get the feeling I’m going to have a hard time prying her off that thing at the end of the night.
Once we hit the street, Huxley immediately zones in on Frankie’s midnight-blue motorcycle.
“Cool bike, man!” He whistles. “That’s a Triumph, right?”
“It’s an ‘86, yeah. Some guy was selling it on Facebook marketplace a few years back. The thing was pretty cheap, but it was also beat to hell, so my buddy Logan helped me fix it up.”
Hux paces slowly around the bike, careful not to look too eager, but he might as well have big cartoon-hearts in his eyes.
“Damn, she’s a beaut.”
“Can I ride it?” Violet asks.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Frankie chuckles. “Not unless your mom suddenly gets really, really cool.”
Huxley snickers.
“I think you and I are gonna get along real well, Frankie.”
Great. The three of them have known each other for a handful of minutes and they’re already ganging up on me.
“Excuse me, I’ve always been really cool.” I look at my daughter, my last shot at an ally in this new Frankie-obsessed world. “Right V?”
She shrugs, giving me a non-committal wiggle of her hand.
“Sometimes you make me go to bed at 9:00. Julia’s mom lets her stay up until 11:00.”
“Well, Julia’s mom does magic mushrooms and dances naked in her backyard in the morning, so I’m not really planning on taking her parenting advice.”
I blink, clapping my hand over my mouth in shock, and cursing myself for getting a little too unfiltered.
“Please don’t tell her I said that.”
“Maybe… if you let me stay up until 10:00.”
Hux snickers.
“How about we get to the carnival first and talk bedtimes later. V, you good riding with your dorky old dad?”
“Sure!” She chirps, and the two of them bounce off together toward his car.
Frankie turns to me after a moment of watching them go, sounding only the slightest bit unsure of himself.
“I guess I’m your chauffeur tonight then.”
“I don’t have a helmet,” I chuckle nervously.
“I keep a spare in my saddlebag.”
“I’m gonna be honest with you Frankie, I’ve… never ridden on a motorcycle before.”
“No shit? Well I was going to make it a really smooth ride, but now…”
“I’d rather not get pulled over on our wedding night.”
“Yeah, good point. Tell you what, completely opposed to my normal daredevil tendencies, I’ll drive real slow. Follow the rules of the road to a T.”
“Sounds like I’m in good hands,” I chuckle.
I wonder how much courage it took to get back on the thing that nearly took his life— and not just get back on it, but learn to love it all over again. If the roles were reversed, I’d have avoided anything bike-shaped like the plague.
“Can I put this on you?”
Frankie’s holding out a helmet, still looking a little unsure.
“Of course.”
Carefully, he slips it over my head, a little smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth as he fastens the chin strap.
“Can I tell you something? I actually bought this helmet just for you.”
I chuckle.
“That’s cute. It’s kind of like we’re exchanging rings.”
His eyes sparkle, the last of the evening light glinting off them like they’re pools of crystal-clear water.
“You know, I kinda like that idea.” Frankie grabs his own helmet off the bike and hands it to me. “You try.”
I giggle, getting up on my tiptoes to slip it over his head, when suddenly I realize how close I am, so close I can smell his toothpaste, and see the tiny red mark around his nose ring.
His lips look soft, so inviting that I can feel my heart starting to race.
I secure the helmet and take a step back.
“How’d I do, Doctor?”
I swear, you give a man one blowjob and it’s impossible to get him out of your head.
“A+. I think you’re ready for your first ride.”
He climbs onto the bike, squaring himself up before holding out his hand.
“You wanna climb onto that foot peg, and then swing your leg over just like you’re getting on a horse.”
I raise a brow.
“Do I look like a horse girl to you?”
“Well, I thought you looked like a motorcycle girl,” he quips. “But then you said this was your first time.”
“I prefer Uber.”
“Well, give it a shot. You can put your hands on my shoulders for balance if you need to.”
I follow his instructions to the letter, placing my foot on the peg and lifting myself up before swinging my leg over the seat, but when I rest my hands on his waist he starts to laugh.
“If you hang on to me like that you’re gonna fall off. Get closer, and wrap your arms around me.” He glances over his shoulder, tossing me a flirtatious smirk. “I promise I don’t bite.”
“Aww, that’s a shame. I like a man who’s not afraid to use his teeth.”
“I’ll keep that in mind. Now hang on tight.”
I wind my arms around his waist, pressing my body into his, and even underneath his big helmet I can see him flush.
“Atta girl.”
Oh. That’s new.
“You ready?” He calls out, his voice raising as the engine roars to life.
“Ready!”
And just like that, we’re zipping down the street.
All I feel is adrenaline surging through me, and I let out a howl of laughter, squeezing tighter as Frankie expertly rounds a corner. He yells something, but I can barely hear him over the roar of the engine.
The whole thing reminds me of when we were kids, of any one of those countless nights we used to race down the street on our ten speeds while the rest of the town slept. It feels so similar, but so different at the same time.
And so does he.