Chapter 29
LINCOLN
The day’s events lasted far longer than I expected. It’s completely dark out by the time Jules, Cameron, and I are driving home from the wedding.
My new bride and my son are lost in an animated discussion about the DJ’s choice of music, and I’m just trying to figure out how my eight-year-old is not already passed out in the backseat.
I glance in the rearview mirror and see Cameron practically vibrating with residual energy. Somehow, it seems that the reception has only managed to amp up my kid.
The whole night was the exact kind of chaos you'd expect from fusing my family's wacky, easygoing nature with Jules's stuck-up, old money relatives.
Oh, and it certainly didn’t help that we threw an open bar into the mix.
We hired Chloe as our bartender tonight.
She handled the drinks like the pro that she is, keeping the booze flowing all evening long and keeping the guests happy.
The poor girl did her best to remain professional, and not judge our off-tune dance moves.
But I could tell she was struggling not to crack up when one of Jules’s drunk uncles challenged my mom to a dance-off.
Speaking of the guests, the evening felt like an exercise in avoiding Jules’s slimy father at every turn.
The man seemed determined to track me down and have ‘a fatherly word’ with me.
But I wasn’t interested. I think I already know all that I need to know about that bastard and I definitely don’t need his advice.
Things got a little awkward during the toasts, especially when my new great grandma-in-law gave a passive-aggressive speech about the sanctity of marriage…while glaring at Jules’s father the entire time.
By the end of the evening, the dance floor was where everyone came together to get shamelessly unhinged. I hope I never have to see Rocco attempting ‘The Worm’ like that again.
Through all the chaotic conversations and awkward family introductions, the only thing that anchored me was Jules. Especially when I looked up and found her twirling Cameron around on the dance floor in her sexy dress and those biker boots.
Over the past few weeks, my son has been having a bit of a rough time handling this marriage thing.
In theory, he likes Jules, but expecting him to suddenly accept a virtual stranger as his step-mother is a huge ask.
It only adds to all the uncertainty that he’s already been feeling since our move to Fairy Bush.
I’ve tried my best to reassure him that me getting remarried won’t change the love I have for him.
But I think that he’ll have to see our new domestic situation in action in order to really believe me.
That’s why I appreciate Jules so much for actively trying to make him feel included in our unfamiliar new family dynamic.
“Dude, the Cha Cha Slide song is the best,” Cameron argues from the backseat with a level of confidence that makes me chuckle. “I know every single move.”
“What? The Macarena wins by far. Once you’ve truly shaken your bum to Los del Rio, you can never go back,” Jules tries to reason with him. She makes a dramatic show of the choreographed hand movements, hitting the dashboard with a soft thwack. “Ouch!” she squeals, making Cameron laugh.
“No way. I can’t even figure out what those singers are saying! It’s all mumble-jumbled up!” When I’m stopped at the red light outside of the grocery store, Cameron points at something through his window. “Look. They have ice cream on special! Can we go and get ice cream?”
I glance in the direction he’s pointing and notice the blown-up thirty percent off add in the shop window.
I shake my head as we wait for the traffic light to change. “I’m sorry, Buddy. No ice cream tonight. You have school tomorrow, remember? Plus, I’ve got that business trip in a few days, and I still need to do some work to prepare for my meetings.” I hit the gas when the light turns green.
“Aw, what if we’re super fast?” Cameron begs. “Pretty please, Daddy?”
And of course Jules is onboard with my eight-year-old’s shenanigans. Of course she is.
She starts pleading, too. “Yeah. Pretty please…Daddy?” She pushes her bottom lip out, pouting as she shifts in her seat toward me.
Sudden warmth rushes to my crotch. “Jules, stop it,” I growl lowly, squirming in place.
“You aren’t taking me on a honeymoon. The least you can do is get me and Cameron some ice cream,” she persists.
Cameron is now bargaining, making a list of all the chores he’ll do if he gets dessert. "I'll vacuum the stairs! I'll clean under my bed! I'll never complain about helping with the dishes again!"
I know that Jules is only joking about not going on a honeymoon, but I feel her comment deep in my soul. She deserves more than this. She deserves a real honeymoon.
A real wedding night.
A real husband.
And Cameron deserves a dad who makes him feel special.
I can’t help but wish I was doing all of this the right way.
Without warning, I whip the steering wheel to the left and make an abrupt U-turn. My tires squeal in protest.
“Whoa!” Cameron screams at the top of his lungs.
He and Jules hang on for dear life as they make the dizzying turn with me. When they see where I’m going, both start cheering and bouncing in their seats.
I laugh, shaking my head. These two are going to cause me so much trouble. The kind of trouble that feels like being alive for the very first time.
I whip into a parking spot and grab a shopping cart. “Climb in,” I command, gripping Cameron by the armpits and hoisting him inside the big basket.
Jules is doubled over laughing as my son protests about being too old to sit inside the cart. Without warning, I swoop her off her feet, plopping her into the shopping cart right alongside Cameron.
The two of them are giggling uproariously as I roll them through the grocery store’s automatic doors. I know I look ridiculous with my over-excited eight-year-old and my leather-wearing bride stuffed into a grocery cart, but I can’t bring myself to care.
After all the turmoil that led to this moment, we all deserve to have some fun, dammit.
Amused eyes follow us as we head straight for the ice cream aisle. Surprisingly, Cameron and Jules easily agree on French vanilla, so we grab a big tub.
Instead of heading for the checkout counter, I make a detour through the snack aisle. We stock up on chocolate chips, sour gummies, pretzel pieces, whipped cream and even a box of marshmallow cereal to serve as toppings.
The cashier blinks at us with wide eyes and I pretend not to notice. After paying for our haul, we grab some spoons from the prepared foods section of the store and we set up an impromptu picnic at one of the tables outside under the stars.
People stare at us in our fancy clothing as we dig into our sundae, but we don’t pay them any mind. Even though we need to get home soon, I take a couple small bites, and then I happily sit back to watch Jules and my son enjoying their impending sugar coma.
An older couple exits the grocery store, entertained smiles instantly appearing on their faces when they take in the mess that we are. When they realize that I’m trying to snap a picture of Cameron and Jules sitting across the table from me, they offer to capture some shots of all of us together.
Opening my phone to the camera app, I hand the device to them.
Then I shift over to the other side of the table.
The three of us grin at the camera with reckless abandon as shutter snaps fill the quiet air around us.
I thank the couple for their help, and as they walk away, I scroll through the pictures, smiling to myself and reliving the night.
“This is so good, Daddy. Thank you! I’ve never ate so much ice cream before,” Cameron says, his mouth full of cereal and whipped cream. His little teeth are chattering and I drape my tuxedo jacket around his shoulders.
Jules nods, moaning as she swallows a bite and digs her spoon back in for another. “Brownies and sour gummies are the perfect pairing. Who knew?”
Melted chocolate and ice cream mush drip onto Jules’s off-white wedding dress. Instead of getting mad or freaking out like the typical bride would, she just laughs and takes another bite.
And I just stare.
Absorbing the happiness on my son’s face. Basking in the warmth of Jules’s giggles. Noticing the off-beat rhythm of my heart.
That’s it.
I’m a fucking goner.
I’m falling in love with my wife.