Now Laurel scowls at Rafe. “My sister is not after money.”
Rafe stares at her for a moment, then looks at me, then Vince. Finally, he raises his hands and shakes his head. “You know what? This isn’t my problem. Do what makes you happy, kid.”
“We’re going to,” Vince states, unmoved.
Rafe nods like he shouldn’t have even tried and drops back onto his couch. “Well, congratulations, I guess.”
“I want a white dress, though,” I tell Laurel. “Will you go shopping with me tomorrow while Vince handles all the stupid house stuff?”
“Of course I will,” Laurel says, grinning. “I’m so excited!”
Rafe shakes his head, leaning back on the couch. It appears to physically pain him to keep his mouth shut, but he manages.
“Rafe can be your best man,” Laurel suggests, thrilled with her own suggestion.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Vince says.
“Yes,” I agree, nodding. “That way we both have a family member at our wedding.”
“I don’t need a best man. If I did, it would damn sure not be him. Maybe we’ll run across a panhandler on our way to the chapel and I can ask him instead.”
Laurel gives Vince her best unimpressed face.
“I mean, on a practical level, it would probably be easier if Rafe helped out,” I tell Vince, my tone low. “We don’t know where to buy anything or where to get a marriage license. Or, you know, where to get married. He probably knows all that stuff.”
Vince sighs. “Seriously? The point of a Vegas wedding is that none of my asshole cousins have to be there.”
I hold up a single finger, busting out the puppy dog eyes. “Maybe just one asshole cousin wouldn’t be the end of the world?”
He looks at me, then Laurel, then back to me. Finally he gives in and rolls his eyes. “Fine. Rafe can come. But I don’t like it.”
“Now, hang on,” Rafe replies. “No one even asked if I want to take part in this train wreck. My answer right now is a soft no.”
“A soft no?” Laurel asks, quirking an eyebrow. “So your mind could be changed?”
He smiles at her. “Hey, if you’re up to the task.”
She saunters back over to the couch and climbs on top of him. “I think I can probably change that soft no to a hard yes.”
“You do excel at making things hard,” he murmurs. Then he catches her around the back of her neck and tugs her in for a kiss.
Vince looks over at me, already anticipating my disapproving grimace. “Why don’t we leave them to… that, and go to our room,” he suggests.
I nod, tearing my gaze from the horrible man kissing my wonderful sister and turn away with a sigh. “I hate all your cousins so much.”
Vince smirks, draping his arm around my shoulder and hauling me toward the stairs. “Look at that, our first official family tradition.”
—
My wedding day begins with Rafe’s “let me make a couple calls” at breakfast. He has a maid, but he still makes Laurel pour his coffee. I don’t understand why she does, but she seems to get a kick out of it, so I don’t object.
Also, I was starting to worry we would get married by an Elvis impersonator and Rafe has assured he won’t let that happen. He gives Laurel his credit card and tells her to go buy us dresses—his wedding present.
We’re limited to off-the-rack choices, but that’s probably what I would’ve done anyway. As much as I want the fairytale, the fairytale isn’t in some big party—it’s in the relationship. It’s in loving the man who pays enough attention to your nerdy stories to bring you an ice cream sandwich when he fucks up (and in my case, maybe buys me a gym membership, since he fucks up more than his fair share). There may be some secrets tucked away in our closet, but we’ve built this relationship on more truths than lies. There’s mostly openness between us. Our only secrets revolve around Vince’s family, and after today, we close the door on them and build a healthy life completely removed from their toxicity.
I may not be the ideal bride and Vince may be a little less stable than the ideal man, but we’re best friends who always want to tear each other’s clothes off. That’s good enough for me.
The dress gods must also bless this union because I’m able to find a stunning dress that fits me well enough that it doesn’t require alterations. It’s mostly backless and fitted like a mini-dress, but then there’s an explosion of tulle at the bottom. It makes me feel like a sexy princess.
Vince wears a tux and looks like a dream. I begged him to wear a Superman T-shirt underneath, but I don’t know if he listened to me.
Our Vegas elopement could have turned out like a bargain bin event, tucked at the back of a sketchy flea market, but thanks to Rafe, it actually does resemble a fairytale. He made his calls and helped Vince throw together the arrangements in just a few hours, but as we stand in front of the golden light of the Bellagio fountains with the Eiffel Tower glowing in the background, everything is perfect. Rafe stands behind Vince, Laurel stands behind me, and an officiant leads the simple ceremony—and he is not wearing a bad wig or a rhinestone suit.