CHAPTER 28
Summer
“What the fuck?” I yell.
“Hold on,” Declan says, taking charge. “Beyoncé’s joking. You’re joking, right?”
Her head moves like it’s on a swivel. “Beyoncé never jokes about weddings. We take that shit very seriously here at the Mariah Carey Chapel of Love.”
Two employees step out from the back room, chatting and laughing. They’re in full costume. One is clearly Tina Turner, with her spiky wig and legs that go on forever. I’m pretty sure the other is Aretha Franklin, from her beehive era, in a flowing chiffon thingy I think is called a caftan.
Declan and I look at each other. His eyes are as huge as mine probably are.
“Here’s the crazy couple I was telling you about,” Beyoncé says to her coworkers. “You know, the one who ran a tab last night?”
“Ahhh,” Tina says, checking me out with a blatant curiosity that makes me feel slightly awkward. I’ve experienced more awkwardness in the last two days than in my whole life.
“Gorgeous!” Aretha reaches high and snaps her fingers, then she belts out, “The man sure makes me feel real goo-ooo-ooo-ooood!”
She has a very powerful voice.
I stare at the large envelope Beyoncé just handed me. I can’t think straight. What is happening right now?
“So, inside you’ll find all the benefits of the deluxe package you purchased, including your matching twelve-karat gold electroplated wedding bands. I sized them myself.”
In my hands is a legal-sized envelope made of white plastic with the texture of lace. It’s tied up in a pink bow, and a little, sparkly tag is attached to the bow. The tag’s in the shape of a heart, with one word written in fancy cursive: “MacLaine.”
My last name is nowhere to be seen. Does this mean I’m a MacLaine? Do I want to be a MacLaine? Did I tell Beyoncé I wanted to be a MacLaine?
“Relax, Summer,” Declan says, rubbing my back. “I see you’re upset, but maybe there’s no marriage certificate in there. Maybe it’s just a gag.”
Beyoncé claps once and the sound cracks the air. We both look her way. Her hands are on her hips. “Open it,” she says to me.
I pull out a marriage certificate and hand it to Declan. Then I fish out a black velvet box and open it. Just as Beyoncé said, there are two matching wedding bands inside.
I glance up at Declan. I’m shocked at how pale he looks. His eyes are wild. He isn’t happy we’re married.
“I’m going to throw up,” I say. Beyoncé helps me to sit on a chair and fans me with the large envelope. “Thank you, but that’s not really helping.”
“I got you, honey,” Tina says. She bends down to open a bottom filing cabinet drawer and pulls out a little battery-operated personal fan. She turns it on and directs the breeze directly at my face.
“Thank you so much.” I accept the fan but I’m still stewing. I dare glance up at Declan again. “You’re freaked out to discover you’re married to me. Is that it?”
Accusing him like that isn’t very nice of me, since I, myself, am freaked out to discover I’m already married.
“No!” he says, his voice cracking like he’s going through puberty. “I’m just surprised. Honestly, I don’t remember it.”
“I don’t remember it either.”
“I remember it!” Beyoncé says. “It’s not often a bride takes her vows after she pops her boobs out of her dress.”
I slap my forehead.
“Now, that does ring a bell,” Declan announces, happily. “Hey, maybe my memory is coming back!”
I stand up and push Declan into the Beyoncé room to talk to him in private. Closing the curtain, I round on him, trying to keep my voice down.
“I can’t do this,” I tell him.
“But—”
“Don’t speak. I can’t be married to a man when I don’t remember actually marrying him!”
“But—”
“Stop! Our marriage is already a joke! Hey, I don’t mind being joked around with, but I don’t want to be laughed at.”
“Who’s laughing? I’m not. And we came here tonight to get married, so this is actually a timesaver!”
I stare at him, baffled. “You know what? I’m the first to admit that I’m not the most romantic person in the world, but even I don’t want to be referred to as a timesaver.”
“Not you! The process. The certificate and rings and stuff. It’s already a done deal.”
I squint at him, trying to get a clear picture of what’s going on with him. I watch his shoulders drop.
“You don’t want to marry me, Summer?” he whispers.
“Not like this. At the very least I’d like to remember who said what and exactly what I agreed to.”
“Okay.” Declan looks sad. “So what do you want? An annulment?”
“I don’t know.”
“I’ll get right on it once we get home. It shouldn’t be too hard to accomplish, and then we can start from scratch.
We’ll get married again, stone-cold sober and in front of our friends and family—but without a wedding dress.
Though you’ll probably want to keep the girls covered up this time around. ”
“Are you laughing at this?”
“No!” Declan says. “Can’t you see I’ve broken out into a sweat? I don’t know what you want, Summer! I don’t know why this is suddenly such an unpleasant turn of events. We wanted to be married, and we’re married.”
“We made a mistake. Let’s get a quick annulment and forget this ever happened. I want to go home.” I turn to leave but he grabs me and spins me around. He leans into me, drops his gaze to my lips, and kisses me.
I melt in his arms and surrender under the demands of his mouth on mine. Here he is again, trying to convince me of something by kissing me. So much bigger than me. So much power. I love him so much.
But if I let him get away with this, then all he’ll ever have to do is kiss me to get me to agree with him, and I can’t let that happen.
I press my palms against his chest and lean away. When I get a look at his expression, I realize he still has a few things on his mind.
“No,” he says matter-of-factly. “That is not happening, Summer. We will not forget that we’re married. But since this first attempt wasn’t exactly the fairy tale, we’ll do it again, formally. No arguments.”
“You make me so mad!” I shout at him.
“What did I do?” His voice cracks again.
Pushing him aside, I fly through the curtain, race past Beyoncé, and storm out the front door, Declan at my heels. Tina Turner sends us off with a warble of, “You better be good to me!”
When we reach the sidewalk, we both seem unsure of what to do next or where it is we’re going. The streets are dead compared to the insanity of New Year’s Eve.
“Take a breath,” he tells me.
“Don’t ever tell a woman to take a breath.”
“I’ve told you to breathe a lot of times over the years.”
“Yeah, but you can’t tell your wife to take a breath. It has deeper meaning.”
He throws up his hands. “I thought you just decided you didn’t want to be my wife!”
“I don’t! But I am!”
“You still want an annulment?”
“Yes. Soon. And you won’t open your big trap to anyone that this happened.”
“I won’t.” He crosses his heart, but I can see he’s trying not to laugh. “I swear that no one except for you, me, Beyoncé, Tina, and Aretha will ever…” He chortles but pulls himself together. “…know that you vowed your eternal love to me with your boobs out on display.”
I point at him. “I will run your ass over with the hay baler if you ever say one word to anyone about this.”
“I won’t, Summer. I… oh, holy oysters on the half shell! Don’t look now, but our past is catching up with us.”
I turn to see Bryttni and Kirk walking up the street, headed our way. They’re strolling arm in arm and gazing into each other’s eyes like they’re madly in love.
That sure was quick. But I guess not everyone waits more than a decade to get started. Not that we’ve already started. Or that we’ll stay married.
I’m dealing with a throbbing, blinding headache so awful that I wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy.
Kirk notices us, points, and breaks out into a huge grin. “Look! It’s the siblings!”
“Great,” Declan and I say at the exact same time.
“How’s it going? Thanks for the wine, by the way.” Kirk is smiling like he just heard the punchline to a hilarious joke. I have a feeling Declan and I are that punchline. We’ll probably be a story he tells for the rest of his life.
“Well, lookie here,” Bryttni says, her voice a lot less catlike than I remember. “It’s the McCall twins!”
“MacLaine,” Declan says.
“Whatever.” Bryttni and Kirk laugh. Then Bryttni notices the envelope clutched in my hand. “Wait.” She looks up at the chapel’s neon sign and back at the envelope. “Did you two just get married? Wow. I don’t even know what to say.”
“How about we say congratulations!” Kirk reaches out to shake Declan’s hand.
“Thanks.” Declan squints as Kirk pumps his palm. I think the up-and-down motion is making Declan woozy. I’m woozy just watching it.
“You two deserve each other, and I really mean that.” Bryttni says this with a phony smile plastered on her face. She and Kirk break into peals of laughter. “Well, we better go. We’re off to see a magic show!”
Kirk slips his arm tighter around Bryttni’s waist and pulls her closer to his side. They walk away, still laughing. Until Kirk leans in and lays a long, intense kiss on Bryttni’s lips.
“That was slightly weird,” Declan says.
“It’s definitely not good! Because now two more people know we’re married.” I hear how whiny my voice sounds and I cringe.
“Who? What people?” Declan asks.
“Kirk and Bryttni.”
“They don’t know anyone in our lives.”
“But they’re in addition to Beyoncé, Aretha, and Tina, who already knew we were married. And when that many people know a secret, it’s guaranteed to spread like wildfire.”
“The ladies at the Mariah Carey Chapel of Love are professionals. They have no reason to blab about their customers. But I gotta admit I wish Whitney Houston was working today because I just love her.”
I stare at him, incredulous.
He grabs me in his arms, kisses me, and starts dancing with me on the sidewalk while singing, “’Cause I’m saving all my love for you!”
“I’m having a panic attack.”
“I’d tell you to breathe but I think you’d hurt me if I did.”
I laugh.
Dammit, he did it. He can always make me laugh, always make me feel better.
“You’ll use your big bucks to fix this, make it all go away. When we get home, I’ll stay in my cabin, and you’ll stay in your house.”
“Sounds like a plan,” Declan says, then spins me on the sidewalk while he sings, “If I should stay, I’d only be in your way!”
I smile, despite myself. Why am I so angry? Why did I snap in there? What’s going on with me?
“Your phone’s ringing.”
I dig my phone out of my pocket.
“No. No. No. No. No,” I moan. “Your family’s FaceTiming me!”
“Be calm. They won’t suspect a thing.”
I hand him the phone. “I can’t lie. I’m not a liar. You take the call. You’re a great liar.”
“Gee, thanks,” he says and takes the phone. “Okay. Let’s sell this. They won’t ever guess.”