I laughed at that. If she’d replaced pony with pussy it might have been spot-on. “Honestly? I don’t even know. She asked for no strings, so that’s what I’ve given her. I let her lead. I respect her too, respect what she wants even if it’s not what I want.”
“And what do you want?” she asked. But before I could answer, she waved her hand as the color rose in her cheeks. “I’m sorry. My job has me trained to ask personal questions that I shouldn’t. Please, don’t answer that.”
“No, it’s okay,” I said as the music started.
We turned in our seats.
From the green archway, Penny appeared on Patrick’s arm, that dress sweeping the green grass at her feet like she was floating, and her eyes found mine and held them.
“I just want her,” was my answer to Annika, to the universe. To myself.
The ceremony was simple and perfect. Ramona and Shep were married under the gazebo, staring into each other’s eyes like no one else was there. When they said their vows, when they kissed, a lump formed in my throat, and Annika pressed her fingertips to her lips. We all stood and clapped and cheered and smiled as they walked down the aisle — this time, as husband and wife. And when Penny passed me and her eyes found mine, they were shining, her cheeks flushed. She told me a million things I somehow couldn’t decipher; I could only feel them all and try to understand.
I offered my arm to Annika, and we made our way into the reception tent and to the head table where our dates would be joining us. We sat next to each other, chatting as everyone found their seats.
The DJ kicked off “I Believe in a Thing Called Love” by The Darkness, and Penny blew onto the dance floor with Patrick, inflatable guitars in hand, air-strumming. Penny actually hitched up her skirt and slid across the parquet, red bottom lip in her teeth and head banging in time to the beat.
The rest of the wedding party came out, and once they were present, they made an archway with their black guitars, and then Ramona and Shep ran through to finish the song to a standing ovation.
After the song, they headed over to us — Penny practically jumped into my arms, sending me off balance, and I swung us to keep us upright.
The sound of her laughter in my ears was the sweetest song.
I set her feet on the ground, sliding her down my body, and she cupped my cheek and kissed me gently, smiling softly. She looked at me like I was a king, and I felt like every bit of one with her on my arm.
We took our seats and ate our steaks, laughing and talking and high off the night, the moment. Toasts were given. Speeches were made. Tears were shed. And all the while, Penny’s hand was in my lap, our fingers threaded together.
And then the party started.
The sun had gone down, and the dance floor was illuminated by naked bulbs strung in arcs from one end of the tent to the other. Shep and Ramona’s first song was a spinning, swaying, brilliantly choreographed dance to “Never Tear Us Apart” by INXS. After that, Ramona, Penny, and Veronica did their own choreography to “Scream & Shout,” and the guys surprised them by jumping in halfway through with their own moves.
Joel, Shep, and Patrick — aka two tattooed Sasquatches and a male model — throwing lassos and yelling Britney, bitch was the most hysterical thing I’d ever seen in my life.
And then Penny was in my arms for the rest of the night. First, we were bouncing around to New Order and Lady Gaga. Then, The Clash came on, and I kissed her in the middle of a sea of people jumping and singing to “Rock the Casbah,” just like the first kiss, the kiss that I thought of so often.
I pulled her outside to get a drink and spotted a swing on a gargantuan old tree.
I tugged her in that direction, stopping just next to it. “Remember the park by the beach where we used to party in high school?”
My hand rested on her waist, and she smiled up at me, reaching for the rope of the swing.
“How could I forget?”
“You’re just the same as you were, except now you’re more you than you ever were. You’re just as beautiful. You’re just as brash and brilliant. But now, you’re free.”
She fiddled with my lapel with her free hand, and her eyes watched her fingers. “Oh, I don’t know about that. I want to be. I try to be. But sometimes, my freedom is a cage.” She seemed to shake the thought away and smiled, meeting my eyes again. “Your outsides have changed, but your insides are exactly the same. I wish … I wish I’d seen you then like I see you now. If I had, maybe things would have been different. Maybe I’d be different.” Her words were soft, her eyes bright and shining.