Chapter Thirty-Two #3
Vera held a bouquet of fake peonies wrapped in tulle in one hand and kept her eyes on the ground in front of her, only looking up to glance at me a few times. As if she was expecting to find that I was no longer there.
Beside me, Brody reeked of booze, and I was pretty sure he’d thrown up in the bathroom while I was paying for the ceremony.
But that didn’t matter. Because for the first time, Vera wasn’t walking to him. She was walking to me.
Once she made it to the end of the aisle, Alvin peeled off to smoke a cigarette and Brody took her bouquet after Fake Gene Simmons nudged him to do so.
“Let’s rock and roll,” Fake Gene shrieked before sticking his tongue out, which was unimpressively short—couldn’t fake genetics—and a moment that the photographer capturing the ceremony was very used to anticipating.
I took Vera’s hands, both of our palms slick with sweat, which I found comforting.
She looked up to me, her warm brown eyes bright and open, despite being laced with hesitation. My heart was doing things that would concern any medical professional.
I gave her hands a squeeze and her pursed lips eased with relief.
The next few minutes were a blur and only came into focus when it was time for me to say my vows. I repeated after Fake Gene Simmons, concentrating on each syllable and the shape of Vera’s mouth.
“I, Eli Buckley, take you, Vera Stein, to be my wedded wife.”
She looked up into my eyes, tugging her lower lip between her teeth.
“To have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer . . .”
We were two people playing make-believe. Just pretending to be something we were not.
“In sickness and in health, in times of rock, and in times of roll, to love and to cherish, till death do us part.”
But this didn’t feel like pretending. Not to me.
Vera repeated the vows back to me and then Fake Gene Simmons asked, “Are you two exchanging rings?”
“No,” Vera said just as I said, “Yes.”
He shrugged, which seemed very un-KISS-like of him. “Which is it?”
“I don’t have a ring for you,” Vera told me.
“It’s okay. Not like we really planned this.”
“But you have one for me?”
“I might have perused the jewelry counter at the rental shop.” I pulled the simple gold band from my pocket.
It was genuine gold and the inside was engraved with a ring of vines.
It was shockingly overpriced for what it was, but I didn’t care.
If I was going to marry Vera Stein—even just for a day—I was going to do it right.
“It’s not a rental,” I quickly explained. “This is for you to keep. A souvenir.”
Her lips slipped into a perfect O, her shoulders slumping in disappointment. “I’m sorry I don’t have anything for you.”
“Kids, I don’t mean to ruin the moment, but my next couple is teed up to go in just a few minutes,” said Fake Gene Simmons as he swallowed a burp.
“Oh, right,” Vera said to him. “Sorry.”
I held the ring up and she offered me her left hand. “With this ring,” I said, my voice so low that I wondered if she could even hear me, “I thee wed.”
“Hell yeah,” Fake Gene Simmons said, throwing his hands up in the rock-and-roll gesture. “I now pronounce you dude and babe.”
We both turned to him, our brows furrowed.
“Husband and wife,” he clarified. “You may now suck face.”
Oh fuck. Kissing. We hadn’t discussed this.
“Kiss, kiss, kiss, kiss!” Brody chanted behind me.
Vera’s smile faltered for a moment at the sound of his voice.
I wanted to grab her by the shoulders and make her understand that he didn’t see how special she was.
I couldn’t tell her that. But maybe I could show her.
I stepped forward slowly to give her the chance to back away. “May I?”
She nodded slightly and tilted her face up toward me. The purples and pinks and oranges of the neon signs reflected off her cheeks and white dress. She looked like a sunset, and I knew I needed to close my eyes to kiss her, but was it so wrong that I wanted to watch her too?
I lifted the front of her veil and smoothed it back as best I could before wrapping an arm around her waist. “Hold on,” I whispered.
Vera’s eyes went round and I silenced her startled shriek with my lips pressed against hers. I wanted so badly to deepen the kiss, but I had to leave that to her.
Instead, I braced her body against mine, and with each of her inhalations I exhaled. Then I did the single smoothest thing I have ever done in my life and I dipped Vera Stein in front of a pink Cadillac and a Fake Gene Simmons.
As I righted her back on her feet and began to pull away, her lips chased mine, parting just enough for her tongue to swipe against mine, and the softest, most erotic moan slipping from her mouth to mine.
Blood rushed straight to my dick.
She pulled back first and I held on to her until I was sure she was steady on her feet.
In front of us a camera flashed, and Brody gagged into his fist before puking onto the pavement.
“Joey,” Fake Gene Simmons called, “I need someone out here to hose down this spot before my next ceremony.”
“How romantic,” Vera murmured, her lips curling into a smirk.