Chapter 42 #2
“Former Elvis,” David corrected gently. “Today, I'm just a man with an online ordination certificate and a deep appreciation for love stories.” He looked out at the assembled guests, then back at us. “Shall we begin?”
I nodded.
Davina nodded.
And David, our Elvis, our accountant, our officiant twice over, began.
“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to witness the marriage of Dallas and Davina.
Although witness might be the wrong word, since technically you're all watching them get married for the second time.” He paused for the ripple of laughter.
“But as someone who was present for the first ceremony, though I suspect neither of them remembers much of it, I can tell you that what these two have is real. Messy, perhaps. Unconventional, certainly. But real.”
He spoke about love and commitment, about choosing each other not just once but every day.
He talked about how the best relationships weren't the ones that started perfectly, but the ones that grew stronger through imperfection.
He even worked in a subtle Elvis reference that made Davina snort, and the guests who knew the Vegas story burst into laughter.
Through it all, I held Davina's hand and tried to memorize everything. The way the light fell across her face. The rustle of leaves overhead. The soft sounds of people crying happy tears in the audience.
“And now,” David said, “the couple has prepared their own vows.”
Davina's eyes widened. “We have?”
I grinned. “I have. You can wing it.”
“Dallas!” She smacked my arm with her bouquet, earning another round of laughter from the crowd. “You can't just spring vows on someone!”
She took a deep breath, clutching her bouquet like a lifeline. “Fine. Fine. But I'm going first, so I can get it over with.”
“By all means.”
She turned to face me fully, and all the humor drained from her expression.
“Dallas.” Her voice cracked on my name. “A year ago, I woke up in a Vegas hotel room with a hangover, a wedding ring, and a husband I was pretty sure I hated. You were arrogant. Infuriating. The kind of man who walked into a room and expected everyone to notice.”
“This is going great so far,” I murmured. No
“Shut up, I'm not done.” But she was smiling. “What I didn't know was that underneath all that ego was someone who would fight for me. Someone who would stand up for me when others tore me down. Someone who would plan an entire surprise wedding just to give me a moment I never knew I needed.”
Her voice broke, and she paused, visibly gathering herself.
“I didn't choose you that night in Vegas.
I didn't choose anything. I was too drunk to choose what shoes to wear, let alone who to spend my life with.
But I'm choosing you now. I'm choosing you with clear eyes and a full heart and the absolute certainty that I will keep choosing you every single day for the rest of my life.” She lifted our joined hands.
“You are my person, Dallas Dodger. My home.
My forever. And I can't believe I'm lucky enough to marry you twice.”
I was crying again. I didn't care.
“My turn?” I managed.
She nodded, wiping her own tears with the back of her hand.
I took a breath.
“Davina. When I met you, I thought I had everything figured out. I had the career, the fame, the life I'd always wanted. I didn't need anything else, especially not a wife I'd accidentally acquired during a blackout.”
Scattered laughter from the audience.
“But you... You wrecked me. In the best possible way. You made me realize that everything I thought I wanted was empty. That success doesn't mean anything if you don't have someone to share it with. That love isn't weakness, it's the only thing that makes any of the rest of it worthwhile.”
My voice steadied as I found my rhythm.
“I spent three months planning this day. Three months of secret phone calls and covert meetings and an elaborate web of lies. And every single second of it was worth it, because it meant I could stand here, in front of everyone who matters, and tell you the truth.”
I reached up to cup her face and brushed away her tears.
“I love you. I loved you when I didn't know what love was.
I loved you when I was too stupid to say it.
I loved you when you packed your bags, and I thought I'd lost you forever. And I will love you for the rest of my life, through every fight and every triumph and every ordinary Tuesday in between.”
I let my hands drop back to hers.
“You asked me once if I would have married you sober.
The answer is yes. A thousand times, yes.
I would marry you in Vegas, Florida, or on the moon.
I would marry you in a wrestling ring, a vineyard, or a Waffle House parking lot.
Anywhere, anytime, as many times as you'll let me.” I smiled through my tears.
“You're my wife, Davina. You've been my wife for a year. But today, I get to remember promising to love you forever. And I will never, ever forget it.”
The silence stretched for a beat.
Brooke's voice rang out: “I'm going to need so much therapy after this.”
Everyone laughed, including us, and the tension broke like a wave.
David cleared his throat, visibly moved. “Well. I think we can safely say those were the vows the first ceremony was missing.” He produced the rings I'd had designed. A simple platinum band to match her new engagement ring. “Shall we proceed?”
We exchanged rings with trembling fingers and whispered promises. I slid the band onto her finger, watching it settle against the diamond I'd given her moments ago and the wedding band I’d given her at the first wedding. She did the same for me, her touch gentle, reverent.
“By the power vested in me by the state of Florida and a surprisingly thorough online certification program,” David announced, “I now pronounce you husband and wife. Again. For the second time. Officially and soberly.” He spread his hands with a flourish. “Dallas, you may kiss your bride.”
I didn't need to be told twice.
I pulled Davina into my arms and kissed her like the world was ending, like she was the only thing keeping me tethered to the earth, like I could pour every ounce of love I felt into that single point of contact. She melted into me, arms wrapping around my neck, kissing me back.
The crowd erupted. Applause, cheers, and whistles, but all I cared about was the woman in my arms.
My wife.
For real this time.
I broke the kiss just enough to murmur against her lips: “So. Was it worth the wait?”
She laughed, bright and joyful. “Ask me again in another year.”
“I'll ask you every year for the rest of our lives.”
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
And then I kissed her again, because I could, because she was mine, because we had the rest of our lives to figure out the details.
The wedding of Dallas and Davina Dodger was officially complete.
Everything else was just the beginning.