Gabby has tears in her eyes, as do my other bridesmaids. On one level, it's hard to not have my dad or brother here with me for my big day. On another level, however, I still haven't forgiven them for what happened. I don't know that I ever will. So far, I've turned down every request they've made to have me come visit them. It's a complicated situation and one I'd prefer to avoid thinking about today. Today is all about love. Not heartache.
Today, I have my girls, my friends, and my man. And in the end, they are all I really need. They make me happy. They complete me. And as long as I have them, I know that everything is ultimately going to be okay.
Gabby's vintage-inspired Maid of Honor gown is a deep, rich purple, and she looks radiant. The dress flows gracefully but hugs her body, making her look even more beautiful than she usually is. She's ethereal. My bridesmaids are in the same style of dress, only in silver, and they look like a squad of angels. All of them beautiful, all of them amazing.
“Wow,” I say, as a ripple of anticipation mixed with fear runs through me.
My exclamation is not only over how I look in the mirror, but also at the idea that this is it. This is actually my wedding day. Sure, technically I've been married for a few months already, but it never felt like it. Brayden and I hardly knew each other back then. Our “marriage,” if you can really call it that, was nothing more than a drunken decision. Something that, because we were so impaired, and having such a wonderful time together, sounded like a clever idea at the time. We had no idea if we really wanted to be together or not.
But now, we do.
He proposed with a real ring this time – not one of those cheapies we bought at the chapel. No, this ring features a giant diamond that I still can't believe is real. It sparkles like my dress when I play with it in the light. I look around from my girls to my reflection again and feel my heart swell to what feels like the point of bursting. And I can't seem to wipe this goofy smile off my face.
I can't get over the fact that today is the day. My wedding day. My real, honest-to-goodness wedding day. And so far, it is every bit the fairy tale I'd always dreamed it would be.
“It's almost time,” Gabby says, wiping her eyes carefully to avoid smudging her mascara. “You ready, honey?”
“I’ve never been more ready for anything in my entire life,” I say and then laugh nervously. “At least, I think I'm ready. I'm pretty sure I am.”
“I'm just glad you kept your promise,” she says, smiling at me in the mirror.
“What promise was that?”
“That I'd be your Maid of Honor if you ever got married again.”
I remember that promise. I smile, recalling that I'd made it the day we were in the hotel room at the Rio. Right after I freaked out when I woke up and realized that I'd married Brayden in that Vegas chapel with the fat Elvis.
“Of course, it wouldn't be my wedding day without you here,” I say softly. “And there's nobody I'd want by my side more than you.”
Sierra, one of the other bridesmaids, opens the dressing room door, her smile wide, and motions for us to follow her out.
It's time.
Gabby takes my hand as we exit the dressing room, giving it a firm squeeze. Her smile is reassuring, and she leans over, giving me a quick kiss on the cheek.
“Brayden is a lucky man,” she whispers.
“I'm a pretty lucky woman,” I reply.
“Yeah,” she says. “You really kinda are.”
I laugh as the music starts up, and my heart begins to race. One-by-one, I watch my bridesmaids walk down the aisle with the groomsmen until I'm the only one left standing at the end of the aisle. My heart is thundering in my chest and the adrenaline coursing through my body makes me tremble. I'm half-afraid that I'm going to pass out any minute.
The song shifts to, “I Can't Help Falling in Love with You,” by none other than the King himself. A nod to our past that makes me smile. Given the fact that my father is incarcerated, I have nobody to walk me down the aisle. I told Brayden I was fine with it, but he said he'd take care of it. Whatever that meant.
When my girls and the groomsmen are all in place, Elvis' voice fades out and the “Wedding March” begins to play. I stare down the aisle and see my husband standing there at the end of it, waiting for me. He's so tall and handsome and proud. When he hears the music, he smiles, but I swear that there’s a tear in his eye too.
It's time for me to make that trek down to him, but before I can move, a man steps up from behind me and offers me his arm. When I see who it is, I burst out laughing and look at Brayden, who just stands there and smiles.
“May I?” he asks.
“I would be honored,” I say.
“Believe me,” me he says, his voice dripping with that Southern charm. “The honor is all mine.”
The man, the same fat Elvis from the chapel we got married at, is standing next to me, offering me his arm. He is in a white jumpsuit adorned with an abundance of sequins – his outfit might be out-sparkling my dress – with his trademark Elvis sunglasses and dark, thick muttonchops. I giggle and shake my head. Somehow, it only seems fitting and right. This makes the day seem that much more perfect.
I take his arm and slowly, we walk down through the church and people stand for us, but I don’t even notice them. I only have eyes on the man at the end of the aisle.
The man that I'm marrying for a second time. This time, for real.
As I finally reach him, Brayden takes my hands and leans over, whispering in my ear.
“My God, you're beautiful,” he says, genuine awe in his voice.
The music stops and our eyes our lock on each other. My heart flutters and everything inside of me feels warm and gooey. I barely hear what the minister is saying, and the vows are literally a blur. All I can think about is that we will soon be husband and wife.
Soon I'll truly be Mrs. Holly Anderson.
And not because we got wasted in Vegas, but because we want to spend the rest of our lives together. Because we made a conscious and deliberate choice to be together. To share our lives. To share our worlds with each other. Because we love each other.
Trey smiles at me and hands the ring to Brayden, who slips the wedding band over my ring finger. It fits perfectly with the engagement ring, combing to become one. Just like we are doing this moment.
“I do,” he says, staring deep into my eyes.
His blue eyes sparkle. I can’t help but think about how I want to have his children – something that we've talked about more lately. I was surprised to learn he wants to have any children at all, but apparently, he wants a few, badly. I can only hope that our kids will have the same sweet face and deep blue eyes that all the Anderson men seem to possess – eyes that I see reflected at me from all three of his brothers sitting in the front row, puffed up with proud looks on their faces.
And, if I'm not mistaken, I see their eyes shimmering with tears. All the Anderson men, although certainly rough and tough, sure are an emotional lot.
Gabby hands me Brayden's ring, and the pastor recites the vows. He hardly has a chance to finish before I'm practically bouncing on my feet, smiling wide.
“I do,” I say, basically cutting him off, drawing laughter from the audience.
I slip the ring onto Brayden's finger, and we continue holding hands until the pastor gives us the cue:
“You may now kiss the bride!”
Brayden and I embrace, and when he presses his mouth to mine, it’s announced - officially in front of all our friends and family - that we are now truly Mr. and Mrs. Anderson.
“I love you, Brayden,” I whisper softly as our kiss comes to end.
He leans down and kisses the small bump that's straining against my gown and then straightens up, planting a soft kiss on the tip of my nose. His eyes are sparkling, and his smile is bright enough to light up the Las Vegas Strip.
“And I love you, Holly.”