Understanding dawns in his eyes, and then his full lips break into a slow grin. "We need to buy them."
***
I walk out of the store with my brand new shoes strapped to my feet. I know they totally don't go with the black dress I'm wearing, but I don't care. These beauties were practically screaming through the window for me to put them on. And as I sway my hips in front of Andrés before twirling around on my toes, I think these dazzling heels are the perfect fit.
Andrés smiles and whistles at me as we continue to walk down the street, past shops with high dollar clothes, noisy pubs, and blinking slot machines. I'm not quite sure how we end up standing in front of that wedding chapel, but as Andrés laces his fingers through mine, my feet propel me forward, and I'm drawn to the little white church like a moth to a flame.
That's when I realize the shoes, the chapel, the dress Grace packed for me has to be fate. As I look up into Andrés's soul-filled gaze, I know the one thing that would make this already memorable vacation absolutely perfect. As if we are both of one mind, we wordlessly walk inside. We reserve the deluxe Elvis wedding slot. Why we decided on Elvis, I have no idea, but I figure if we're going to get married in Vegas, we might as well go all the way. We rush back to the hotel and Andrés helps me into my gown.
I smooth down the fabric as I admire my reflection in the mirror. The dress isn't too wrinkled now, and the flowers and butterflies I added along the bottom are beautiful, but I think my shimmery red shoes make the gown, which reaches just above my ankles without the heavy train. I sway my skirt a few times, admiring my reflection.
Andrés comes up behind me, placing his strong hands on my hips. He pulls back my veil and plants a soft kiss on my neck. "You're beautiful, mija."
My eyes flutter shut as I savor the way his lips tickle my skin. When he takes a step back, I open my eyes and admire my handsome groom. He's changed into a suit jacket and dress pants. Not too formal, but not too casual, either. Although,Andrés could marry me in jeans for all I care. What matters is he's going to be my husband.
***
Andrés
I feel like the luckiest man in the world right now. Christina is so fucking beautiful. As I take her arm in mine and lead her through the hotel lobby, I still can't believe the girl of my dreams is about to become my bride.
I feel like I'm floating in a dream as we walk hand-in-hand across the crowded downtown sidewalk. Lots of people stop to congratulate us, which makes the trip take longer than it should. I nervously check my watch. We've got ten minutes before our scheduled appointment, and we've still got two more blocks to go. I summon what I learned back in Army training, square my shoulders and dodge, (sometimes push) people out of the way. I jostle that religious nut who says Revelations is upon us. I "accidentally" elbow the guy trying to sell us tickets to a strip club. We narrowly escape the old lady who wants to read our fortunes.
"Don't you fear what your future may hold?" she calls at our backs.
I pretend not to hear her.
The problem is, I do hear her. Because her voice is the same voice of worry that has been running through my head. I do fear what my future may hold. I fear it so fucking much, because once I make Christina my wife, my future will be her future, too. And the thought of it almost makes my knees go weak.
Considering how I buried myself in my job all last month while she mourned the loss of our baby, I know I've already failed her once. I should have insisted on time off. I should have been there for her.
Once we make it to an opening, I pull her along faster, but I don't know why I'm hurrying anymore. I realize we've got to make it to our wedding, but I feel as if something else is propelling my feet forward.
The word takes hold of me like a vice: fear. I'm fucking scared.
"Slow down, Andrés."
Christina sounds frustrated.
"Sorry, mija, but our appointment is in"—I check my watch—"four minutes."
She releases my hand and bends over, adjusting a strap on her shoe. "They won't care if we're a few minutes late."
"I don't want them giving away our slot." I pace the sidewalk while I wait for her. I can feel the tension mounting, pressing down on my shoulders like a two-ton sack. "I'm marrying you now before you change your mind." That last part comes out on a rush of air, and I'm not even aware what I say until it's too late.
She stands up, bunching up the sides of her dress in small fists. "Why would I do that?"
I heave a groan as I look from her penetrating eyes to the concrete. Might as well come out and say it. It's only fair she knows what she's getting into. "Because I'm not worthy of you."