"All right, now, Dawson, you need to get out there already," Quinn said, pushing Dawson toward the doors. "And Paige, you stand over here with me until the music starts."
"I think it's funny that you're trying to tell a wedding planner how to run her own wedding," I said.
"Give me grief and my threat still stands," she replied.
"Then by all means, continue."
"Paige?" Gail stuck her head out of the door, and when she saw me, she slipped out. "I was just making sure you hadn't changed your mind."
"Me? Back down? Never," I said.
Gail's eyes trailed over me and she clasped her hands together. "You look so beautiful."
"Really?" I looked down at the short hem. "You don't think it's a little too 'high-class hooker'?"
Gail pursed her lips and gave me another once-over. "I think you could wear a garbage bag and look gorgeous for your wedding." She gave me a hug, careful not to smudge my makeup, and when she pulled back, there were tears in her eyes. "I'm so happy for you, Paige. For you both. We love you."
Oh no, not the tears. Nope … nope, just a light sting behind the eyes. I'm good. "I love you too," I said.
She squeezed my hands and took one of the escort's arms to head back onto the patio. Before she got inside, though, I let out a low whistle and she turned around.
"I forgot to tell you, there are headphones in your seat. If you love me, you might want to use them."
"Oh? Is that how we'll hear you talking up there?" she asked.
"No. That's how you won't." The corner of my lips quirked up as Shayne handed me my bouquet. "Trust me on that one."
As we got into formation, I made sure to say, "Don't let this marriage thing rub off on you three. It's still a really stupid decision. But I'll take one for the team."
Ryleigh and Quinn threw a choice finger my way and Shayne glanced at me and said, "How generous of you."
"What can I say? I do for my girls."
And then the doors opened, and all together, my best friends in the whole world walked me down the aisle that we'd made wide enough to fit the four of us in a row. They were the natural choice when I'd thought about who would give me away, because if the man of my dreams didn't have their approval, well … let's just say I wouldn't be getting married right now. Besides, it wasn't every day that the bride got to walk down the aisle with three hot women to "Happy Together."
From where he stood at the front of an archway with the lights of the city as the background, Dawson's expression as he watched me walk down to him was one I'd always hoped for the brides I worked with-utter freakin' awe and adoration.
As we came to a stop in front of the minister, he looked down the row of us and asked, "Who gives this woman away?"
"We do," the girls said in unison, and then Shayne took my bouquet and they each gave me a wink before heading to their places to the side.
As the minister launched into his greeting, Dawson took my hands and gave them a squeeze. Over the last two months, it had felt like I was floating on air. That could've been post-orgasm highs talking, but once I'd let my guard down and realized that I could still be the same person with another person-and a pretty incredible person at that-my life had become fulfilling in ways I hadn't known possible. The loneliness that had plagued me for most of my adult life vanished. I no longer had a relationship of any kind with my parents, but I'd come to accept and even embrace that. Family could be the ones you chose, and I was marrying-again-into a family I adored, and with Dawson and my friends by my side, there was nothing we couldn't tackle together.
"So, you've both written your own vows, is that correct?" the minister said, glancing between the two of us.
Dawson nodded. "It is."
"But you'd like to swap and let the other read them as their vows, is that also correct?" When we said yes, he motioned for us to go ahead, and I took the folded paper from Shayne before exchanging it with the one Dawson handed me.
The minister nodded at Dawson. "You can go first when you're ready."
My husband gave me a smile that was sexy and heart-melting all at once, and then he unfolded the paper and began to read. "I, Richard James Dawson, do hereby vow to love and to cherish my wife's body several times a day, every day, for the rest of our lives."
Chuckles broke out across the guests, as Dawson continued. "I vow to never stop watching silly romantic comedies, and I will never, ever ask you to cook for me again. As a matter of fact, fish is off the dinner menu for the foreseeable future. I also promise-"
He stopped and looked up at me. "Really, Paige?"
I nodded proudly. "Keep going."
Dawson shook his head and said, "I promise never to pressure you on the subject of having kids. Doing so would only result in a stretched-out, saggy vagina, and my-" He stopped and rubbed his face as he smothered a chuckle. "Christ, love. And my nine-and-a-half inches would get lost in there like a black hole. Meaning I would either need to get a dick-enlarger pump or you'd have to find someone with a monster cock."
Bursts of shocked laughter rang out from both sides of the aisle, as Dawson's poor parents looked on, appropriately mortified. I motioned for them to put the headphones back on, and then turned back to face Dawson.
"Is that all?" the minister asked, looking more than horrified he'd let us say our own vows.
"Looks like my bride is pretty easy to please," he said, folding the note back up and tucking it in his suit pocket.
"All right, now, Paige, your turn."
"I, Paige Iris Traynor-Ashcroft Dawson-" I stopped to laugh. "Jesus, that's a mouthful."
"That's what she said," said Quinn at the same time as one of the groomsmen.
"We're keepin' it classy," I remarked with a grin. "I vow to always fight with you, but only because I want to make up with you more. I vow to let you always have the last of our favorite ice cream when there's only one scoop left, because it's either let you have it or face the silent treatment for a week." I looked at him over the paper. "Hey, wait a minute."
"Now that's love right there," Ryleigh called out.
"Not sure I want to agree to that," I muttered. "I vow to give private dances at least once a week to my husband, though I know he would never complain should I choose to make those more frequent. I promise to always kiss you good night, even when I'm mad at you. And finally, I vow to be there for you for always, in sickness and in health, because you, Dawson, are the only person who can make my previously cold, dead heart manage to skip a beat."
I folded the paper and put it inside my cleavage. "Aw, babe. You had to go and end it on a sappy note, didn't you?" Then I gave him a light kiss on the lips. "I love you."
"I love you more," he said.
"Delusional," I said, rolling my eyes.
"Uh … You forgot the p.s. on the back."
"Oh." I took the paper back out and read, "I also promise not to kill my husband when I find out he's the reason my house was held hostage so I would have to stay married to him." I looked up, shocked. "Are you serious? You-"
Then he reached for me, kissing me long and deep, and completely ignoring the minister's objections that it wasn't time for that part of the ceremony.
"By the powers vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife. Again. You may continue kissing your bride."
As the cheers rang out, we pulled away from each other, matching ridiculous expressions on our faces, and then turned to the ones who'd joined us to help celebrate. There would be dinner, dancing, and more laughs than I could count on all the stars. And this time, it was a night I'd never forget. When you've got your people and a view like ours, you didn't need much else.
Oh, and for those of you curious-Ryleigh caught the bouquet. ~Wink~
SO, THERE YOU have it, diary. Sometimes it's the ones you think are least likely to do something that actually go through with it. A few months ago, no one in that room would've bet money that I'd be Mrs. Paige Dawson. Holy shit, that makes me sound old. Maybe I'll only use that in written correspondence. But I digress.
I guess if there's anything to be learned from these entries, it's this: sometimes it's those who protest the loudest who might be hiding a thing or two. Sometimes it's vulnerability, sometimes it's baggage, and sometimes it's fear. So, if anyone reading this should come across one such person-love them hard. They're probably the ones that need it the most.
And as for the rest of you, be a stubborn ass until someone worthy climbs over all the walls, jumps over the trapdoors, and cuts through all barbed-wire fences surrounding your heart. A fabulous female can't just take on any heartsick fellow's name, now can she?
"The plane leaves with or without us in two hours, love," Dawson called out from where he was no doubt waiting by the front door of our home-yes, it was ours now. Shayne's too, since I'd convinced her to stay on the grounds that we'd give a heads-up if we decided to commandeer somewhere outside of the bedroom. So far we'd stuck to that agreement about eighty percent of the time.