Chapter 31 Fish
FISH
“Did you just ask me to marry you while your dick is still inside me?”
I swallow hard because I can’t quite read her reaction.
“Yes. Marry me.” I say it again. “Right now. Tonight.”
“Are you drunk?”
“I’m not drunk. I’ve had three champagnes. I’m buzzed at best. I’m drunk on you, but I’m being serious, Lettie. I love you. And I don’t want to lose you.”
“You won’t lose me,” she says, cupping my face.
“I don’t want your brothers to pull us apart.”
“I won’t let them,” she tells me fiercely. “Don’t you think this is a little fast?”
“Yes. But I know how I feel about you.”
“I feel the same,” she says, reassuring me.
“I don’t want us to date in secret for the next few months, and then come summer, we come out.
I know that I will be proposing during the summer anyway, and to everyone else it will seem fast because they don’t know our secret, and then I’ll want to marry you right away because I don’t want to wait.
It’s inevitable that we are going to end up married, so why wait? ”
She bursts out laughing. “You have really thought about this.”
“I have.”
“Let’s deal with this first,” she says, pointing to where we are still joined.
Oh, yeah, that would be a start. I agonizingly pull myself from her and walk into the bathroom to dispose of the condom.
When I walk out, I see Collette staring out the window, looking over the city, no doubt contemplating what I just asked her.
That’s the moment I drop to one knee, and when she turns around, she sees me and gasps.
“I had so many ideas on how I was going to propose to you in six months’ time, but I’m an impatient man.
I may not be perfect, but I hope I am perfect enough for you.
You’re my best friend, and being able to spend the rest of my life laughing and having fun with you by my side seems like a dream.
I love you more than you could ever know, Lettie.
You have my heart and my soul, and although it may not have been for long, when you know, you know.
” Tears are streaming down her cheeks as she looks at me.
“I’m sorry, I don’t have a ring for you,” I add.
She shakes her head. “I don’t need one. Yes. Fuck it, yes. I love you,” she says as she launches herself at me and we crash to the ground. I roll her onto her back and look down at her.
“Was that a yes?”
“Yes,” she says loudly.
“Yes?” I can’t quite believe it.
“Yes,” she says it again, and I kiss her.
“Justin, this is crazy.”
“I know, but it feels right.”
“It does. But don’t you think people will notice that we are gone if we run away to Vegas?” she asks.
She’s right. I help her up off the floor and lead her to the sofa. “There has to be somewhere close by where we can get married.” I pull out my phone and start searching, as does she.
“Found it.” She squeals. “DC. No waiting period.”
“Seriously?”
She nods. “That’s only like a couple hours’ drive.”
“Babe, we aren’t driving. Let me organize something. You go back to the party, and I’ll text you. Leave it all with me.”
She looks stunned. “Okay.” Just like that, she has utter faith in me. Don’t think I could love her anymore, but I do. We both stand up, and I walk over and cup her face before giving her a tender kiss.
“Are you sure?” she asks one last time.
“I have never been more serious about anything in my life. I want to marry you. Tonight. Me in this suit, you in that dress, before the sun comes up. And then I want to wake up and spend the rest of my life trying to deserve you.”
She lets out a shaky breath, a tear slides down her cheek, and she wipes it with the back of her hand. “My brothers are going to kill you,” she says, giving me a watery smile.
“They were going to kill me anyway, but at least I’ll know that you’re mine when they do.”
The next hours are a blur of champagne-fueled logistics and adrenaline. I call in all the favors that I have to organize tonight, and finally, everything is in place.
Fish: I need you to cover for me big time.
Evan: Fine.
Fish: Collette and I are going to be leaving the party early.
Evan: Everyone is drunk so it will be easy.
Fish: Great. If anyone asks, just tell them I got a hotel room and I’m having some fun.
Evan: I do not need to know what you and Collette are up to.
Fish: Bro.
Evan: Merry Christmas.
Fish: Fuck you and happy holidays to you.
Fish: All systems go. Evan is covering for us.
Collette: Good, because Jo has left so I’m on my own.
Fish: There will be a car waiting for us outside, it’s arriving in five minutes. Do you think you can leave by then?
Collette: Everyone is drunk and dancing, they will have no idea.
Fish: I fucking love you.
Collette: Me too. See you in five.
I rush out of the hotel room, through the lobby, and out to where the car is waiting for us.
I nod to the driver and let him know Collette will be out very soon.
Moments later, I see her rushing out of the hotel, looking like a fucking vision, my soon-to-be wife.
Wife! Fuck, why does that make my dick hard?
The driver opens the door for her, and she jumps into the back with me. “Hey.” She smiles, her cheeks are flushed from rushing.
“Hey.” I reach out, pull her to me, and kiss the ever-loving shit out of her.
The driver gets in and takes off into the traffic, taking us to the Teterboro Airport, which is the closest to where we are.
I’ve organized a private plane, and we should be arriving at Ronald Reagan Washington National Airport, which is closest to downtown in about forty-five minutes.
She sits back and looks over at me with those hazel eyes and links our hands together.
“Are we really doing this?” she whispers.
“We’re really doing this.”
“In a private plane, to DC, in the middle of the night, during our Christmas party, to get married.”
“Yes.” I bring her hand to my lips and kiss it.
“In this dress,” she says, looking down at it.
“Especially in this dress. You look so fricken beautiful.”
She laughs and presses her forehead against my shoulder. “My mother is going to kill me.”
“I promise I will give you the wedding of your dreams during the summer.”
“I’ve never dreamed of the big white wedding. I only ever dreamed of finding the right person, and I have.” She sighs, snuggling into me.
My heart breaks open with happiness hearing those words.
The plane is small, private, with the lights on, and the engine running. The pilot smirks when he sees us, me in a suit, her in a silver dress, both of us giddy and clearly out of our minds.
“DC?” he confirms.
“DC.”
“There and back tonight?” he asks, confirming our plans.
“Yes.”
“Then let’s go.”
We board the plane. It quickly takes off, and we watch as Manhattan shrinks beneath us, all those lights getting smaller, and I’m holding the hand of the woman who just said yes to marrying me at midnight in a hotel room.
“What if we regret this tomorrow?” she asks, her head on my shoulder, watching the clouds through the window.
“I won’t regret it.”
“How do you know? You’ve been wildly single for so long that maybe being tied down to one person …”
“I’m going to stop you there,” I tell her.
“I know that I will not regret a moment of being single because I’ve regretted every day I didn’t tell you how I felt.
I’ve regretted the weeks I spent not talking to you.
I’ve regretted every second that you were not in my bed.
The only things I don’t regret are the things I did because I loved you.
” I press a kiss to the top of her head. “This is one of those things.”
“Justin Crawford, that might be the most romantic thing you’ve ever said.”
“I’m on a roll tonight.” I laugh.
She gives me a look but smiles.
We arrive in DC before midnight, and it’s cold.
The marriage bureau is closed because it’s the middle of the night, and we’re insane, but money and a phone call to the right person opens doors.
A clerk meets us at the building, bleary-eyed and confused.
She takes our IDs, processes the license, and asks us if we’re sure.
“We’re sure,” Collette says, and her voice doesn’t waver.
The officiant is a woman named Diane who smells like peppermint and looks like she’s done this a thousand times. She probably has.
“Any witnesses?” she asks. We look at each other, shit, we don’t have witnesses. We have a pilot sitting in a plane at Reagan National and a clerk who wants to go back to bed. “You don’t need one, just checking.”
Phew.
We stand in a government building in Washington DC at midnight, me in a navy suit with a silver tie. Her in a silver dress, with no flowers, no music, no guests, just us. She deserves better than this for her wedding, and I am going to make sure she gets it come summer.
Diane reads the vows, standard, simple, legal.
“Do you, Justin Michael Crawford, take Collette Marie St. Pierre to be your lawfully wedded wife?”
“I do.” My voice cracks, and I don’t care.
“Do you, Collette Marie St. Pierre, take Justin Michael Crawford to be your lawfully wedded husband?”
She looks at me, those hazel eyes, full of tears and joy and fear and certainty all at once. “I do.”
“By the power vested in me by the District of Columbia, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride.”
I kiss her, in a government building, under fluorescent lights, in the middle of the night. And it’s the best kiss of my life. She laughs against my mouth, and I taste champagne and tears and the beginning of everything.
“Congratulations,” Diane says. “Now, please go home. I’m exhausted.”
Don’t have to tell us twice. We sign the certificate and stumble out into the DC night, married, laughing, and holding hands. She stops on the sidewalk and looks at me.
“We just got married.” Those hazel eyes are open and bright.
“We just got married.”
“In the middle of the Christmas party.” She giggles.
“Worth it.” I pull her to me and kiss her again, on a sidewalk in DC. My wife. “Let’s go home, Mrs. Crawford.”
She grins so wide it takes up her entire face. “Let’s go home.”
The plane ride back is quiet. She falls asleep on my shoulder, her hand still laced through mine, the marriage certificate folded in my jacket pocket. I stare out the window and watch the coast slide by and think about what we’ve done.
You just married Collette St. Pierre.
Pierre and Felix are going to kill you.
But she’s worth it.