“Where’d you get those?” Lars placed his hand saucily onto one hip.
“The vase by the elevator.” Patricia put her finger to her lips. Then she tucked a sprig behind Aria’s ear. “Perfect.”
It was time to go, and they rushed her down to the lobby. Someone in a tuxedo waited by the revolving doors, his back to them. Aria didn’t realize it was Hallbjorn until he turned around and smiled at her. “Wow,” she gasped.
“I was just about to say the same about you,” Hallbjorn answered, taking her hand.
They were silent for a moment, and then burst into giggles. This is really happening, Aria thought. I’m really getting married.
Aria threw on her coat, and Humpty, the porter from the day before, ushered them outside and showed them the bicycle built for two he’d rented. It had banana seats, streamers hanging from the handlebars, and no gear shifts in sight. “I could only find you a beach cruiser,” he said sheepishly. “I hope that’s okay.”
“It’s better than okay.” The seat was covered in sand and the gears were a little rusty, but she couldn’t imagine a better wedding transport.
The temperature was much warmer than the day before, and all of the snow had been plowed off the streets. Hallbjorn climbed onto the front part of the tandem bike and set off, giving the bell a little ring. It wasn’t easy for Aria to pedal in heels, so she let her feet dangle for much of the ride. A few people waved as they passed, and a couple of horns honked. Aria thought she caught sight of someone lurking behind them, but when she looked over her shoulder, whoever it was had ducked around a corner . . . or maybe hadn’t been there at all. She shook off her worries. Nothing was going to ruin her wedding day.
They reached the chapel, a small white building wedged between a pawnshop and a tattoo parlor. It said CHAPEL OF LUV in red lettering over the door, and there were heart-printed curtains in the windows. Hallbjorn helped Aria off the bike, then gave her a long, meaningful look.
“You are so beautiful, Aria Montgomery,” he said.
“So are you, Hallbjorn Gunterson,” Aria said, her voice trembling a little.
He leaned in and kissed her.
They walked up the stairs together. The inside of the chapel was swathed in red draperies, tall white columns, and vases overflowing with red and white roses. A glittering chandelier hung from the ceiling, and a few rows of seats were positioned on either side of a red-carpeted aisle. The room smelled like a mix of perfume and flowers, and soft music played through the speakers. A door opened at the end of the chapel, and someone in an Elvis costume, complete with the spangled jacket and bell-bottom pants, the bouffant hair, and the aviator sunglasses, strutted out and smiled at them. “Hey there, lovebirds,” he crooned in a perfect Elvis voice. “I’ll be marrying you today.”
Aria laughed. It was too perfect.
Elvis asked for the license paperwork, and Aria handed it over. He tucked it into his pocket without even looking at it. “Now, do you kids have witnesses?”
Aria looked at Hallbjorn. “Uh, no . . .”
“We’ll be their witnesses,” a voice came from the left. A tall, slender showgirl wearing a plume atop her head was sitting next to the spitting image of Cher.
Elvis returned to the front of the chapel and instructed Hallbjorn to join him. Cher jumped from her seat and ushered Aria into a little anteroom just off the aisle, which contained a couple of chairs and a full-length mirror. Aria stared at herself, taking in her vintage dress and the flowers tucked in her hair. Cher stood behind her, fixing her hair from the back.
“Thanks for being our witnesses,” Aria whispered.
“Oh, I just love weddings, honey,” Cher answered in a deep voice. Aria caught sight of her enormous hands in the mirror and smiled wryly. Of course Cher would be a dude in drag.
Canon in D played through the speakers. After a few beats, Cher offered Aria her arm. Aria took it as though it were perfectly normal for a drag queen to be walking her down the aisle instead of Byron, her gaze anchored on Hallbjorn at the front of the chapel the whole time. There was a giddy smile on his face. His hands were clutched at his waist, and one of his feet tapped the ground.
She came to a stop next to Hallbjorn just as the music ended. Cher kissed her on the cheek, whispered, “Good luck,” and then sat down next to the showgirl. Elvis faced the two of them, opened a large leather book with gilt-edged pages, and cleared his throat.