Page 160 of Daddy P.I. 3.0

It’s a little worrisome how good my friends are at keeping secrets.

Daisy does my makeup last, keeping it mostly natural except for pink, white, and gold wings around my eyes. While Daisy puts on her suit, Aggie and Vashi help me into my dress, which is definitely a three-person job with the corset, tutu, train, cape, and veil. The corset, train, and cape are heavy with metal and beading but I’ve practiced in them several times and by the time we’re ready to go, I’m managing them on my own.

Bren, True, and my baby have disappeared when we come out of the bedroom. I stamp my white, platform Mary Jane. “What are they wearing?”

Everyone laughs. Laurel pats me on the shoulder. “There have to be some surprises, even for the bride.”

I roll my eyes. She giggles and takes my hand as we troop downstairs to the limos.

Daddy’s limo has already left and our limo has tinted windows so Daddy won’t see me. The limo driver grins when he sees us in our outfits and seems in really good spirits as we roll toward the drop zone. He plays “I’ve Got The Magic In Me” by B.o.B. and “I Gotta Feeling” by the Black Eyed Peas and we all sing along. Sammi and Daisy harmonize like they’re professional singers.

When we get to the drop zone, a sandy lot near the “Welcome to Fabulous Las Vegas” sign, there are three other limos, two SUVs, and a red Cadillac waiting. I try to peer into the other cars but the windows are all tinted like ours. I know one is Daddy’sand the groomsmen’s. Bren, True, and Livvy might be in the third limo but who is in the other one?

When I ask, my attendants trade secretive smiles but no one answers me.

“I hate you all,” I huff.

Cynnie kisses me on the cheek. “But we lurve you, Emmy.”

I roll my eyes at her.

The driver opens the moon roof and I forget all about my pique as a silver plane circles in the bright blue sky overhead. One after another, eleven bodies dressed in brilliant white spill out of the plane. Even at the distance, I can see they all have slick, black quiffs, except one.

I squeal and point at Irish Elvis. Vashi squeals with me.

The Elvi circle in the air and join hands. They drop together in a huge circle for several terrifying minutes, although they look serene. Finally, they separate. Their chutes pull them higher with a jerk. We clap and whistle as they float down. When they land and remove their chutes, they surround my limo.

One of them blows a note on a pitch pipe, and then all of them break into “The Wonder of You.” They have lovely voices. Not as good as The King but that’s an impossible standard to measure up to. I can pick out Master Niall’s voice among them: a deep baritone. His accent makes me grin.

Tears threaten when I hear them change the lyrics to “that’s the wonder, the wonder of little you.”

Daisy leans across the footwell and dabs at the corners of my eyes. “We’re going to put the waterproof claims of the mascara and liner to the test today, aren’t we?”

I nod helplessly. Daddy got them to change the lyrics for me. I blink through a crystal veil.

After an extra chorus, the Elvi blow kisses at me before they load up in the Cadillac and the SUVs. In a mismatched cavalcade, we roll out to the chapel. The driver puts on “Can’tHelp Falling In Love” and I sing with my attendants, smiling through my tears.

We’re the last car to pull up at the chapel, which I sense is by design. The Elvi are waiting to escort us in. They’re witnesses—not that we don’t already have dozens of witnesses—but it was part of Master Niall’s deal with them. They surround my limo, preventing me from seeing what’s going on in the parking lot, while they sing “Blue Hawaii” and “Can’t Help Falling In Love.” By the time they open the limo door and help me out, the parking lot’s full of cars but empty of people.

I glare at Cynnie and Vashi, who just giggle.

The Elvi clearly deal with a lot of brides. They help me get my train straight and one of them carries it for me so it doesn’t snag on the lot’s asphalt. Master Niall beams at me, his smile brighter than the rhinestones on his white outfit, as he holds his arm out for Vashi. In a double-phalanx like they’re guarding the President, the Elvi escort me inside and into a small room with round tables and chairs.

It's hard to sit in my tutu without showing the whole world the color of my panties (pale blue, although not borrowed) but I have to because my knees are knocking together so hard. It’s not that I’m scared. How could I be scared of marrying my forever-Daddy? It’s just all the emotion of the moment. I don’t think I’ve been this crazy emotional since before my first period. There’s nothing to be scared of but I’m shaking all over. I want this. I’ve thought about it for months. I’ve planned it down to the small details. Is it that I don’t want it to be over too soon? Is that why my hands are shaking so hard that I have to set the small bouquet of white and gold paper flowers I crafted with the Littles’ Army on the table to avoid dropping it?

Vashi kneels next to me, using one hand to tuck the skirt of her gorgeous pink and red sari under her legs and the other toflip back the flare of her cape so it’s not caught under her butt. She takes my hands in hers.

“It’s okay to be nervous,” she says, squeezing my fingers. “I was most nervous on my wedding day.”

“I don’t have anything to be nervous about,” I wail. “I’m just so emotional.”

My attendants cluster around me, patting me and saying “aww.” Several of them are teary, too.

The officiant, a very portly Elvis, comes in to speak to me and get me to sign something. I have no idea what I say to him but it seems to be the right thing because he bustles away smiling.

“Is Daddy definitely here?” I ask Vashi, even though I know it’s a ridiculous question.

“Do you want Master to check?” she responds, humoring me.

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