Epilogue #5
Giggling, I let him lead me two steps forward. He keeps hold of my hand. His palm is a little sweaty.
I turn, expecting to see the portly officiant.
Master Javier smiles at me.
“Bald Elvis?” I ask, grinning.
He winks at me. “Welcome, friends. We’re gathered here today to celebrate the union of this Daddy with his little . . .”
I hiccup and the tears start again.
“Logan and Emily, have you come here to give yourselves freely in marriage?” Master Javier asks.
“I do,” I whisper.
There are soft chuckles around me.
Daddy squeezes my hand. “We have,” he says.
“Repeat after me, Daddy Logan. I, James Logan, take you, Emily Martin, to be my lawfully wedded wife. To command and to hold, to love and to cherish, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, from this day forward. You are mine. You live in my heart and soul forever.”
Daddy repeats each word, his voice breaking when he says “mine.”
“Repeat after me, Emmy,” Master Javier says.
“I, Emily Martin, take you, James Logan, to be my lawfully wedded husband. To obey and to hold, to love and to cherish, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, from this day forward. I am yours. You live in my heart and soul forever.”
I whisper each word raggedly.
“Please exchange rings as a symbol of your infinite and unending love, faith, and loyalty to each other.”
Bren pulls a red velvet box out of her basket. Mac fishes its mate out of his jacket pocket. I asked for simple rings to go with the slight ostentation of my pink diamond engagement ring.
Daddy’s idea of simple isn’t really the same as mine.
They’re gold, his thicker than mine. A gemstone band runs through the middle of each ring.
Daddy’s band is dark opal, flashing with deep blues and greens.
My band is pink opal. I didn’t even know pink opal was a thing until Daddy showed it to me on the internet before we commissioned the rings.
When we picked up the rings and I saw how mine looked against my diamond, I cried for an hour.
Pretty sure I’m going to cry for longer today. I can’t stop the tears. They drip off my chin. Daddy gently wipes them away, then licks my body’s salt off his fingers. “Happy tears?” he whispers.
“The happiest,” I promise him.
“Do I get a ring?” he asks.
I nod but I can’t remember a word of the ceremony we wrote. “Help me, please?”
“Of course, sweetheart. ‘Daddy, with this ring, I thee wed’.”
Once he starts me off, I remember the rest. I take his ring from Brenna and say, “Daddy, with this ring, I thee wed. I offer my heart and soul to you, for you to keep safe alongside your heart and soul, because they are joined forever. Wherever you go, please take me with you. Wherever I go, I’ll know you’re with me. As long as we both shall live.”
I slide the band onto his offered finger and stare at it there. It doesn’t feel real. Or maybe it’s too real. Surreal. Good surreal but surreal.
“You with me, baby?” Daddy whispers.
I nod, not wanting to ruin the moment.
Daddy picks up my ring out of the box Mac is holding. He takes my left hand and gently slides off my engagement ring.
“Emmy, my baby doll, with this ring, I thee wed. I accept responsibility for your heart and soul. I will do everything in my power to keep them safe, alongside my heart and soul, because they are joined forever. Wherever I go, you are with me. Wherever you go, I am with you. As long as we both shall live.”
He slides my wedding band and engagement ring back onto my finger.
Everything snaps into place. We’re married. I’m Daddy’s little wife and Daddy’s . . . Daddy’s my Daddy.
That thought settles me more than my mantra ever did. Daddy’s my Daddy. He always has been. He always will be. I beam up at him.
He smiles back at me. “There you are, wife.”
“Hi, Daddy. Is it time for the kiss yet?”
There are chuckles all around us.
“I think Bald Elvis has to say something first,” Daddy responds.
Master Javier clears his throat. “By the power vested in me by the State of Nevada, I am delighted to pronounce you husband and wife. Please kiss the bride before I do.”
Laughing, Daddy sweeps me up into his arms. I wind my arms around his neck as he lifts me off my feet. He rubs noses with me as we look into each other’s eyes. “First kiss of the rest of our lives together, baby.”
“Lay it on me, Daddy.”
His laughter buzzes against my teeth as he seals our mouths together. He runs his tongue along the ridge of my teeth before lapping against my tongue. Breaking the kiss, he smiles into my eyes again before taking another, even deeper kiss.
Daddy lowers me onto my heels. He takes my left hand, twines our fingers together, raises our linked hands, and presses a kiss to my knuckle just above our rings. Then he lifts our joined hands into the air.
Everyone cheers and from the back of the room, the skydiving Elvi launch into “All Shook Up.”
With the Elvi singing our recessional, Daddy leads me back down the aisle. I wave like a crazy lady at everyone, much too happy to wave like a queen.
Daddy’s little wife.
Our reception’s at A Golden Affair. I hadn’t heard of it until I realized we were going to have an absurd number of guests at our “elopement” in Vegas and began researching venues.
As soon as I saw the pictures: all pale wood, high ceilings, white drapes, and soft lighting, with huge windows looking out in the sere, folded landscape of Red Rocks National Park, I knew it was what we wanted.
There’s a dance floor, a dining area separated by a low wall, the buffet screening the kitchen, and two bars at either end of the open-plan building.
Daddy commandeered arranging the music, which means we’ll be dancing to Eighties tunes.
Master Javier claimed the catering was his wedding gift to us.
Knowing what Master Javier’s like when he’s thwarted, I gave way and just asked for some nice herbal teas to be available along with everything else.
Of course, that was before Master Javier somehow became qualified as an officiant in Nevada and took over the ceremony.
I should have known he was up to something when I saw him lurking in the Blunts’ library all autumn.
He pretended it was his new favorite place for scenes and made Cappa serve as his footrest for hours on end while he read.
I should have known, though. Master Javier really isn’t as devious as he thinks he is.
My only sadness is that Cappa’s not here to see the outcome of all those back-breaking hours.
The venue’s as serene and beautiful as I imagined.
They’ve strung fairy lights along the edges of the tables and along the exposed beams in the ceiling.
Runners of the palest pink, rich with gold embroidery, drape the ten tables: Niall, Shaan, and Vashi’s contribution.
White pillar candles flicker on each table, adding to the warm, sunset glow off the desert beyond the huge windows.
The centerpieces are white and gold paper flower bouquets, grouped around a Little Larry.
We’ve all been back to the Excalibur to change.
True’s stayed at the hotel with Livvy, who she’s babysitting tonight, under the supervision of her foster-mother.
Although the venue is vanilla, Master Javier reassured me he’d hired kink-friendly servers and everyone could wear what they liked.
The skydiving Elvi have been intrigued enough to stick around for the reception.
It’s a free meal and an open bar which probably does a lot to assuage any prudery; more than that, I get the sense that those who cater to tourists in Vegas have pretty much seen it all.
The Elvi’s white jumpsuits mix with Yummy’s dragon onesie, Georgie’s fursuit, Cynnie’s adorable round bee outfit, and leather in every color.
They don’t seem shocked. Everyone mingles, talking and laughing together.
I expect fussy French food; it’s Master Javier after all.
But he surprises me by serving a feast to delight any little.
Lobster Mac and cheese balls. Tiny hamburger sliders with a quinoa alternative that has me clapping my hands when I see them.
Pizza rolls. Regular and sweet potato fries arranged in boxes like crayons.
Triangular pastry puffs that conceal quiche Lorraine, curried chicken, or egg and cress within their fluffy folds.
The caterer has included some western dishes like marinated cactus salad and burnt ends.
There’s a healthy cornucopia of fruits and vegetables.
But there’s also folded ice cream and sorbet in several flavors, drizzled in fruit coulis or chocolate.
At the very end of the buffet, there’s a giant, ice-sculpture clamshell full of shucked oysters so fresh they still smell like the sea.
Oysters in the desert. That’s so Master Javier.
I eat a little of everything, even an oyster.
I’m honestly too stuffed to consider another bite by the time they bring out the wedding “cake.” Five different people offered to make our wedding cake but I turned them all down.
I really didn’t want a wedding cake. The ones I’ve had have always been dry and nothing could top the Beauty and the Beast cake Sammi and Jack made for our collaring ceremony anyway.
Then Martyn, from the inn where we had our collaring ceremony, RSVPed.
When he offered, I changed my mind about the cake.
I begged him not to be as extravagant as he was for my Alice in Wonderland tea party because I wanted him and his little, Piper, to have fun while they were here. He just laughed.
The caterers bring out a round, three-tiered stand. On each level, there are cupcakes. Big cupcakes. Mini cupcakes. Cupcakes frosted with a rainbow of colors. Cupcakes topped with macarons. Cupcakes piled with fluffy meringue. Cupcakes dipped in chocolate ganache.
I throw my arms around Martyn and Piper before I find the smallest, lemon meringue cupcake I can and add it to my groaning stomach.
Daddy’s still licking ganache off his lips when he leads me out for our first dance. He’s still in his Dragon-Taming Daddy leathers, although he’s shed the cloak and changed his boots for black shoes he can dance in. His bare arms and shoulders look huge against the black leather. Yum-yum, Daddy.
He pulls me to him, planting one of his wolfy paws on my bottom, squeezing through the silky fabric of my skirt.
When Cynnie and I were planning outfits, I told her she had free rein over my dress for the reception.
The only thing I wanted was to be able to wear thigh-highs because they drive Daddy so crazy.
Cynnie delivered.
The two-piece outfit is white, silk, and makes me feel even more delicious than Martyn’s cupcakes.
The top wraps my shoulders and crosses over my breasts, tying in a huge bow in the small of my back, with ribbons trailing to my knees.
There’s a tiny strip of skin exposed across my belly, just enough to give Daddy a flash of my brand.
The skirt falls to mid-thigh in the front and to my knees in the back, for best visibility of my sheer white thigh-highs, printed with little pink bows.
The skirt has the softest poof; the overlay of white gauze embroidered with butterflies and tiny pink pearls along the hem swirls around me as Daddy spins us to Berlin’s “Take My Breath Away.” I’ve replaced my dragon tiara with fluffy white cat ears.
Cynnie added a layer of veil that brushes my shoulders, giving me the best shivers.
Is it possible to feel adorable and elegant at the same time? Because I do.
I know what Daddy and I must look like, him looming over me all in black, me pressed up against him, small and white. It’s a true image because Daddy always has been and always will be my ruthless protector.
But it’s also an illusion. Because a little takes care of her Daddy, too. In finding my forever-Daddy, the Daddy worthy of my love and care, I’ve discovered my inner dragon. She sleeps most of the time, guarding her treasure. But when she rises . . .
Hear me roar.
We dance as darkness falls outside the windows to Cyndi Lauper, The Bangles, Lionel Richie, Peter Gabriel, Journey, and Madonna.
As the stars glitter over the desert, we dance to Thompson Twins, Spandau Ballet, Bryan Adams, Tears for Fears, and Roberta Flack.
All of Daddy’s favorites. We dance until the ache of an overfull stomach is replaced by an ache lower in my belly from being held so close to Daddy’s hard body as we move together.
I could wait. I haven’t talked to everyone. A few people just arrived yesterday and I want to catch up with them, too. Even though we told everyone absolutely no presents, there’s a table of them by the door and we haven’t opened any yet.
But there will be time for those things.
If I don’t catch up with people here, I can in New York, because now that Daddy’s made Blunts safe again and so many from our playgroup have joined, we’re there practically every day.
And if we don’t open our wedding presents today, someone will bring them to the hotel and we’ll open them tomorrow, probably at the big brunch Maude’s hosting tomorrow at a place called The Hash Hut, which is not a hut at all but does have cool Polynesian theming.
There’s never enough time with my Daddy.
I slide my hands around his neck and tickle the fine hairs there with my fingertips. His groomsmen dragged him off for a Turkish bath and barber the morning after they got him drunk. He was still hungover when he got back but he had a sharp haircut.
“So, Daddy, I’ve been thinking,” I begin.
He looks down at me, his eyes hooded and happy. “What have you been thinking about, my little wife.”
I go up on my toes to whisper in his ear, “Since we’re all married now and everything, maybe we could go back to the hotel and get started on making a brother or sister for Livvy?”
I had my appointment before we left New York. My gynecologist said it might be a month or two before the contraceptive effect of the implant wore off but I’m perfectly happy to keep trying in the meanwhile.
Daddy stops dead in the middle of the dance floor. “What?”
“I had my implant removed before we left New York.” I had to hide the inside of my arm from Daddy for the first few days we were in Vegas until the little incision healed so I didn’t spoil the surprise. “So, we could get started on our ‘sibling for Livvy’ project right away.”
Daddy’s eyes go impossibly hot and dark.
“Breeding kink unlocked,” he growls, before he tosses me over his shoulder and strides out of our reception. “Enjoy yourselves everyone! I have a little wife to impregnate. See you tomorrow.”
The laughter of our friends, high and low, sweet and deviant, follows us out the door.
Logan, Emily, and their friends will return in Midnight Fleur’s Monsters.