As she walks toward me, a vision incarnate of all I've ever needed or wanted, my eyes capture and hold hers, silently telling her of my undying love and admiration, while my mind travels back to the beginning of our journey… reminding me of how I, we, got to this exact moment.
'Hey. I'm Dane. Nice to meet you both.'
I'd said “both.” I was talking to Laney, and only Laney.
'Laney… Walker, nice to meet you, Dane.'
Right then, I knew, something big, different and undeniable was happening. That I better pay attention, because my every sense noticed and was drawn to her on a level the likes of which I'd never experienced. And I was sure I’d never experience again.
She'd dragged Bennett to the bathroom to insist she pull her shit together, yes, we could hear their every “whisper,” then emerged, and spoke directly to me, as if no one else existed, in my language.
'Soooo love this song.'
'Oh yeah, what's it called?' I'd asked.
'“End of All Time.”'
'Very nice.'
That was it. Mine. At any and all costs.
And now, she stands just inches from me, in wedding white — ready to willingly complete me, forever.
“Who gives this woman to be married?” the preacher asks.
“Her mother says she and I do, but you do anything wrong,” Jeff Walker shrinks me on the spot with a lethal glare of promise, “and I will take her back.”
“Of course,” I nod.
He lets out a defeated sigh and places her hand in mine.
I squeeze it and give her a wink. “Ready, baby?”
“More than,” she whispers, seizing my heart all over again.
I simply stare at her, taking in every nuance that makes her who she is, while the preacher drones about whatever the hell he's saying… until it's time for our vows. I'm up first, and wrote them in “Laney Talk” so she'll be sure to absorb their full, unfathomable gravity.
“Once upon a time, there was an ordinary guy, meandering through a mundane life, unaware that fairy tales could come true.” She's already crying, her penchant for such stories, and my penchant for her, tugging at her whimsical heart. “Until one day, a feisty, witty, funny, gorgeous princess with locks the color of the sun and eyes of coffee, the flavor of which she likes in ice cream and candy but not the actual drink,” she laughs mildly, “walked in the room, awakening every dormant feeling within this not so ordinary guy, rather a prince, finally called upon to fulfill his destiny — to love, and cherish this princess. To believe in magic. To rescue, and be rescued. She challenged him physically,” I groan, earning a small wave of laughter from our audience, “mentally, musically, and creatively. How to woo her, he asked himself. Make her see that she was his 'one.' Constantly coming up with new ways to surprise, delight and show her he’d stop at nothing to make her his. Which I plan to do forever, because… I’m addicted to that smile. Laney, you are the most beautiful, fascinating, mesmerizing woman in all the land, and I am, and will be, madly, endlessly in love with you for the rest of my life. My baby. My Disney. My Wife. I begin and end, with you.”
“Laney?” The minister prompts her.
Out of my periphery, I see Whitley do some awkward hand gestures — looks like Laney taught her how to signal a batter to bunt — and softly, our song, “Collide” by Howie Day begins to play.
“Michael Dane Kendrick, my Caveman, we definitely collided, with a forceful impact from which I haven't, nor do I ever wish to, recover. I thought Jerry Maguire was scattered and boring, but, you did, in fact, have me at hello.” The onlookers laugh again. “I didn't plan on you, and honestly, it took me a while to realize the depth of what I felt for you and what it meant. Our immediate, overwhelming connection was so powerful, I couldn't believe it was real, that such a love could actually exist. You bring out parts of me that only come alive for you. And I love them, almost as much as I love you. I am yours, completely, and you are mine,” she growls with a coy grin, stealing my line, “forever.”
When the man with the Bible says I can kiss her — as if I need his permission — I do so like nobody's watching, especially her parents. And when I’ve tasted my fill, for now, we walk hand in hand back down the aisle as man and wife, “Collide” playing louder.
The second we make it out of the sanctuary, cathedral… whatever it's called, I scoop her up in my arms and speed my steps to double-time.
“Babe, what are you doing?” She giggles.
“Starting our wedding night.”
“Caveman, stop running and put me down.”
“Why?”
She laughs heartily now, head tossed back, squirming to get out of my arms. “First of all, it's the middle of the afternoon. Far from our wedding night. See that big, bright thing in the sky?” She points. “That's the sun, best known for appearing during the day. And, our Crew and family are waiting to do the procession, walk through their line of sparklers thing, then we have a reception. So again, put me down.”
“How about this, we—”
“Nope.” She cuts me off and shakes her head. “We are not sneaking off for a quickie.” My baby knows me so well — exactly what I was gonna say. “People are waiting, and no way in hell am I tainting the magic that is my one wedding night ever with a quickie, Dane Kendrick!”
Our first dance is to “This Year's Love” by David Gray — another song with special meaning and memory for us — I played it for Laney at one of her birthday parties; the first one I ever celebrated with her. I bury my face in her sweet, soft neck and slowly twirl my amazing wife around the floor.
“God, Laney, I sometimes can't believe just how much I love you.”
“I love you too, babe, more.”
All too soon, the song ends and Whitley starts “directing” again. We sit for dinner and it isn’t long before Tate clinks a fork against his glass, standing with mic in hand. “I know I'm supposed to give my toast first, but I think it's only fitting that I pass the torch to the bodacious Bennett, she's with me fellas, since Dane and Laney met because of her. For it was Bennett who forcefully dragged Laney to the “Hall Crawl” where the two of them collided, all those years ago.”
“Thank you, Taterbear,” Ben coos and rises from her seat, giving a toast that has us all laughing, reminiscing… and every woman in the room crying by the end.
And then… Armageddon unfolds, too quickly for anyone to stop it.
Yes, Sawyer Beckett grabs the microphone.
“Since all their boring asses put the kibosh on a decent bachelor party and stuck me with a night of poker and beer, too much fuckin’ fun I tell ya, seriously, we didn’t even use cards with naked chicks on ‘em, I'm giving a toast too.”
“Who thinks this is a really bad idea? Raise your hand,” Whitley pleads with the entire room… every single person in it raising their hand. Except Jeff Walker, who's already ushering a worn-out, fragile, does not need to hear this, Trish toward the exit, to put her to bed no doubt.
“Put your damn hands down, rude,” Sawyer booms into the mic. “And Whit, I can hear you when you talk out loud. I have feelings too. Emmy, those feelings include a strong inkling that we should—”
“Beckett!” I scream to stop him. “Tread easy, bud. No ruining my wife's special day or I will sedate you.”
“What did I just say about having feelings, fucker? Geez. Anyway, for those of you who don't know me, well, you probably shouldn't even be here. But they already let you in, so, I'm Sawyer Beckett. I'm the proud husband of the hot brunette holding my wonderfully-behaved baby girl, and the best friend of Daney and Gidget. That’s them,” he feels the need to point us out, “Dane and Laney, which again, you shouldn’t be here if you didn’t know that. Dane and I go way back and kind of saved each other from ourselves. Look at us now, man, two of the luckiest bastards in the world. Thank you, for getting here with me, bringing me along. I love and owe you, pretty boy. And Gidget,” he chuckles and flashes her an adoring smile. “Oh, my Gidget. This blonde busts on the scene, threatening to beat people with her bat, wearing the most unsexy pajamas I've ever seen, asking bullshit, PG-rated trivia questions, whippin' everyone's ass in beer pong and every other game we play and always trying to tell me how to raise my kid. Needless to say, I was instantly in love with my new friend for life, a total badass. So, I would have to say, I can't think of another person I'd have chosen for either of you to be with forever. You're a damn perfect match. Love you both, cheers.”
It takes us all a second to comprehend that he's finished, with no one harmed or mentally scarred for life in the process, and slowly raise our glasses with him.
“Da,” baby Presley sweetly babbles, reaching for him.
“See? My kid knows a good speech when she hears one. Everyone else, quit looking shocked and eat. Dane's ready to cart Laney off and get to the good shit.”
There we go. Now he's done with his speech.
The rest of the reception takes longer than I'd like, but Laney’s having a great time, talking and dancing… so I drudge up patience from where, I have no idea.
Finally, when the girls have done every group dance ever invented, my wife finds me… and my ear. “You can take me to start our wedding night now, Caveman.”
We're out the door before she's even done talking, taking the stairs two at a time because the elevator's slow as fuck.
I carry her over the threshold of the suite and gently lay her on the bed then go back to hang the 'Do Not Disturb' sign on the door before shutting and locking it. I turn, my baby splayed out in a big, puffy cloud of white and take my first, full deep breath of the day.
“You're my wife.” I confirm with a propriety that corrupts the air around us, putting it out into the universe so there’s never any doubt.
“I am,” she purrs and holds out her arms. “And I want my husband to come love me, soft and slow.”