27. Elle
elle
. . .
I t’s been eleven days since Ben and I exchanged vows in his ICU room. At first, we weren’t going to tell anyone, but asking Quinn to keep something as monumental as us getting married a secret was unfair to him. All I could see playing out was Quinn acting like Joey in FRIENDS with the whole, they don’t know we know crap and while it would’ve been funny, it wasn’t right. I thought my parents were going to be hurt, mostly my dad, but surprisingly he accepted that Ben and I had to do it our way—not that this was the way we ever intended to get married—but my dad saw the magnitude of the moment. Life is short. Ben’s illness showed us this. I could find every excuse in the world, meaningful or not, to not set a date. Life gave us a reason why to get married.
I pull into my grandpa’s driveway and shut the car off. Ben’s quiet and looking out the window. I reach for his hand, and he squeezes mine.
“Mack’s inside with the puppy.”
“Do you think we chose the right name?”
I nod. “I think it’s perfect. Come on, he’s waiting for you.”
“He doesn’t even know me.”
“He’ll know you,” I say as I open my door.
Ben and I meet at the front of the car and walk in together. He’s nervous about coming home for some reason and I can’t figure it out. It’s not like he doesn’t know my grandfather or Mack, and I made sure everyone went home to give Ben some space. While we love our family, they can be overbearing at times. When we get to the first step, I look at him. “Are you ready?”
He nods.
Ben takes each step slowly, as if he’s out of energy. I grow concerned and make a mental note to ask the doctor about a supplement for some energy. When we get to the top of the stairs, I put my hand on his forehead. “Are you feeling okay?” I feel dumb for asking because I know they wouldn’t have been discharged if he had a fever.
“Yeah, just afraid.”
“Everything will be fine. This was just a minor setback. We’ll be more diligent moving forward.” After spending as much time as Ben has in the hospital, I learned that some of my excessive cleaning requirements might have been counterproductive for Ben. It seems some bacteria is good for healing, and was reminded that while the ICU is sterile, the walls and floor in Ben’s room wasn’t being cleaned every day. I’ve since relaxed, a little bit. We still have a housekeeper, but they’re not required to sterilize every single day.
He doesn’t say anything as we go into the house. It’s quiet. Too quiet. I expect to hear my grandpa moving about or at least the puppy barking. But there’s nothing. I start to head into the kitchen, but Ben grabs me around my waist and pulls me to him. He cups my face and leans in for a kiss. It’s the most energetic thing he’s done since we left the hospital.
“I love you,” he says.
“What did you do?”
“Why do you think I’ve done something?” he asks, with barely a straight face.
“Benjamin!”
“I’m afraid.”
“Of what?”
“Your reaction.”
“What are you talking about?”
Ben spins me so my back is facing him. He covers my eyes with his hands and tells me to walk.
“I don’t like this, Ben.”
“I know, but I have a surprise for you.”
I try to remember the layout of the kitchen—the place I grew up in—and I can’t. My heart starts beating fast and even though Ben is behind me, I’m nervous. I hear the faint sound of the sliding glass door open, and Ben instructs me to take a step.
I do.
He whispers that he loves me in my ear and then removes his hands from my eyes. Instantly a loud chorus of “Surprise” rings out. My eyes adjust and take in my surroundings. My family, mine and Ben’s friends from high school, and all the members of my bands are in the backyard. There are flowers, balloons, and a three-tiered wedding cake. But it’s the banner that catches my eyes the most, “Congratulations, Ben & Elle.”
I turn to Ben. “Did you do this?”
“Yeah, I arranged everything with your mom and Peyton. You gave up your dream wedding for me. This is the least I could do.”
I pull him into my arms. “But I thought we were going to have a ceremony later.”
“Oh, we are. There is nothing in the rule books that say we can’t party multiple times. Besides, name one celebrity in the past ten years who hasn’t had at least two ceremonies and multiple receptions.”
He’s right.
“Thank you,” I say as I kiss him. Everyone around us hoots and hollers, and someone yells for us to get a room. Believe me, I’d like to. There’s nothing like consummating a marriage on a hospital bed in the ICU. I will be forever grateful for the nurses who turned a blind eye to mine and Ben’s dalliances.
We thank our family first before greeting our old classmates. Most of these people I haven’t seen since we graduated, but some I’ve run into since our return to Beaumont. I thought it would be odd to catch up with them, but it’s been really nice.
Mack yells our names and we both turn to find him and the puppy coming toward us. Ben scoops the puppy up and nuzzles him. This was probably the one rule we didn’t break at the hospital—no pets. As much as I wanted to sneak him in, there are so many germs, I didn’t want to risk it.
I stand next to my husband as he shows everyone his puppy. “Everyone, I’d like for you to meet Beau.”
Everyone aah’s at his name, which is the most fitting name for us. Beaumont is where we met, where our lives truly started, and it will always be our home. Right now, it’s where we are staying until Ben’s better. Sure, we’ll go back to Los Angeles and to Malibu, but for now, this is home. Beau represents our life here and us becoming a family. I never thought I’d be a dog mom, but I love it. On the days when I would go work in the studio, Beau came with me. Mack has been picking him up after school and has been training him.
I snuggle into Beau’s fur and sigh. When I glance at Ben, he’s beaming. While he tried to make today about me or us, it’s really about him. I’m confident he’s on the path to healing and these bumps in the road are just that—bumps—and proof that we can handle anything thrown our way.
Mack comes back and takes Beau’s leash. He parades him around to all the guests while Ben and I do the social thing. When we come around to my parents, I reach for Oliver and inhale his baby scent.
“Any word on the adoption?” I ask.
“We’ll know more after Christmas,” Dad says.
“Christmas is going to be so much fun. Isn’t it Oliver,” I say to him.
“Has anyone come forward with a paternity claim?” Ben asks.
“No, not yet.” My mom combs Oliver’s blond hair with her fingers. “I’m both thankful and saddened. We want to adopt him and make him officially ours, but when I look at him, I think about everything his parents are missing. He’s such an amazing little boy.”
Oliver says, “Down.” I do as he requests, and he toddles over to my dad . . . well, I guess our dad, and holds his arms up so dad will pick him up. A small pang of jealousy goes through as I watch them interact. I don’t know why, it’s not like I would’ve remembered being this age with my dad, and the memories I do have are the best. Like the time he let us add color to his tattoos or taught us how to play instruments. While Peyton can play the drums, my musical abilities lie in a somewhat decent singing voice and finding talent that I can turn into stars. I guess you could say I’m the odd man out, but I don’t see it like that. We each bring something special to the table in this family.
Peyton and Noah join us, as well as Ben’s mom and brother. There’s still some animosity there, and I think it will always be there. It’s like Brenda resents Ben for befriending me or maybe it’s me she resents because I showed Ben a different life. Still, I’m glad they’re here for Ben’s sake.
“It’s time to cut the cake,” Mom says and then repeats herself for everyone else. People gather on the deck and Mom guides us on how to cut the cake.
“Are you going to stuff it in my face?” I ask Ben.
He nods. “Without a doubt.”
“Rude.”
Ben shrugs. “When we do this again next year, I won’t. This will be our practice run.”
Okay, I can’t fault that logic.
We hold the knife, pose for a picture or a million, and then slowly cut a slice out of the cake. Mom is there to help us get it onto the plate and cuts two smaller pieces.
Ben and I each pick up a piece and hold it in the air. “On three,” he says.
“One . . . two . . .”
Only Ben doesn’t wait until we say three and smashes the cake into my face. I return the favor and then grab the remainder of the piece we cut and smear it all over his face as well.
“That’s cheating,” he mumbles as cake falls from his face.
“All’s fair in love and war.”
“Is that so?” Ben pulls me to him and rubs his frosted caked face all over mine. Everyone around us laughs as if this is the funniest thing they’ve ever seen. When our childish antics are done, I glance at my mom who is not impressed . . . at all.
“Shit,” I mumble. I reach for a napkin, hand one to Ben, and start cleaning my face. My mom steps forward with her hands on her hips.
“I wanted one photo, Benjamin. Just one before you two decided to wear the cake. I don’t even have a wedding photo of you two so this was my moment.” She covers her face with her hands. I have a feeling she’s crying.
“Mom.” I pull on her wrist so she can see me. “Ben and I are having a full blown ceremony next year.”
“You are?”
“Of course,” I tell her and then look at my dad. “There’s no way I’m skipping all the drama that comes with planning a wedding. Me being a bridezilla, hello! Sign me up.”
“Are you mocking me, Elle?” Mom asks.
I think about hugging her, but she’d probably kick my ass. “Not at all. Next year, in a vineyard, Dad will walk me down the aisle, and you’ll get all the pretty picture’s you want. Oliver will be our ring bearer or maybe he’ll walk Beau. It doesn’t matter. What does is, Ben and I want a wedding, with all the pomp and circumstance that comes with it.”
“Well except the bachelor party,” Ben says.
“That’s what you think,” Quinn hollers from the side.
I put my arm around Ben’s waist and lean in. “We took a shortcut because it was right for us, but we still want it all. The flowers, the music, the kiss at sunset,” I say as I look at my husband.
“Oh, I’m so happy.” Mom doesn’t hesitate to hug us. I do my damnedest to keep cake away from her face and hair, but she ends up with some on it.
The three of us are in this circle until we hear Dad yell, “Oliver, no.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I see a chubby little hand digging into the cake and that cake filled hand going right for his mouth. When he hears his name, he turns and giggles, with cake smeared everywhere.