But even if they didn’t, I still know it’s right. I one-hundred percent, no doubts, know that this is where I’m meant to be.
I don’t remember what else happens that night. I think there’s a cake and more dancing and a lot more alcohol, and the party doesn’t really end until the wee hours of the morning. But the only thing I’m completely sure of is that I don’t leave Dax’s side for the rest of the night. I do remember staring at my finger a thousand times, falling asleep against his shoulder in the truck on the ride back to the apartment. I remember telling myself from now on, I’d be letting my heart make all my decisions.
Turns out, it knows best.
Chapter 17
Three months later, and two weeks before the official Grand Opening of Harding Automotive Works, is the official start of our happily ever after.
The church is small, and so full of people that the air is cramped and stuffy, even in the coldest day of late fall. My father chats with me, telling me I’m so beautiful and nervously adjusting his tie as we get ready to take the long, life-changing walk. His girlfriend Patsy is there, and even if she won’t ever be my favorite person, it turns out she’s not a complete wench, either.
My mother has cried a lot about this day, but I don’t let that fool me. She’s brought her new boyfriend up from Florida. He’s very tan, a retired business owner whose wife passed away a few years ago. It’s weird seeing her not with my dad, but I guess I’ll have to get used to it. She doesn’t have to say anything-- I see from the light in her eyes that she is deliriously happy. I keep asking her why she’s crying when everything is so very right, and she tells me that these are the good tears.
Dax’s brothers actually look like different people. They’re wearing button-down shirts and ties, their hair is slicked back neatly off their faces, and their hands are scrubbed clean of oil and grease for once. Wob has a girlfriend named Emily who he spends nearly all his time with. She’s shy and polite and looks a little . . . bookish for the Harding clan.
Obviously, I’ve been trying to encourage him with her wherever I can. When people say they can’t possibly fit together, I tell him that they most certainly can.
Seeing all of these people seated in the pews, waiting for me, brings me enough happiness to make my heart burst.
But then the music begins to play, the priest steps out of his vestibule, and Dax follows.
He’s wearing a tuxedo. Waiting for me.
And I can’t help it. I lose it. Lots, and lots, and lots of those good tears fall down my cheeks. The little lace handkerchief my mother gave me as my “something blue” isn’t nearly enough.
When I get to the altar and my father lifts my veil and kisses me, I turn to Dax and nearly wobble right off my heels. Dax reaches out and steadies me. His hair still tumbles over his forehead, and he has the same intense green eyes, but so much is different. He shaved. I’d expected him to be all fidgety and uncomfortable in the tuxedo, but he owns it. Damned if he doesn’t look like a GQ model dressed up to the nines like that, covering all his tattoos and everything that makes Dax, Dax.
Still hot as hell.
“Hi,” I whisper to him.
He takes my hand and leads me up the steps before the priest. “I see you bought a new dress for the occasion.”
I can’t help but laugh. I try to stifle it as the priest looks down his nose at me, but I can’t. I’m grinning from ear to ear. And so what? This is a day for happiness, for celebration. And so I let the laughter come. “What, this old thing?” I whisper back.
He chuckles.
After the ceremony, we have the reception in the church hall. I’d wanted to have it out in the field, in back of the shop, but that wouldn’t work considering it’s only forty degrees outside. We wanted to get married as soon as we could.
But it’s not the place that makes the day special. It’s the people.
One person in particular.
My Dax.
He says he has a surprise for me after the band announces us as man and wife. I grit my teeth. I’m scared to death about his surprises after the last one he pulled.
When the cheering dies down, I see him across the dance floor. He signals to the band to start playing, and I listen for the first song we’ll dance to, as an official married couple. The first notes scrape my eardrums. It’s country music.
I burst out laughing. I put on my scary game-face and point at him, signaling that he’s going down.
But strange thing is, the song is kind of familiar. When the singer begins to belt out a tune that’s on the very tip of my tongue, I know why. It’s Celine Dion. My Heart Will Go On. In country.