Page 68 of Meet Stan

“Stan?” She dropped the newspaper from nerveless fingers. “What—what in the hell were you doing?”

“Well, I guess since I’m already on the ground…”

I got up to one knee, and then produced the ring box.

“Ivy, will you marry me?”

Her hand flew in front of her mouth, and she paled to be white as a sheet. A single tear rolled down her cheek, and then she stuck her hand out toward me, fingers splayed.

“Yes,” she said in a voice barely above a whisper. I slipped the ring on her finger, my heart pounding in my chest.

“You’ve made me a very happy—”

She attacked me with the newspaper again, having picked it up off the ground.

“You big jerk! I really didn’t know it was you, you bastard!”

“Ivy, come on,” I said, trying to retreat. “I think the business end of the newspaper landed in dog shit.”

“That’s supposed to stop me how?”

Well, at least she said yes.

Epilogue One

Ivy

I did agree to marry Stan, even though I wanted to kill him at the same time. He just had no idea how tough it is in retail, dealing with customers like that. The sad thing was, I’d actually dealt with worse customers before, at least right up until he started trying to play the bongos on my sales counter.

Maybe I kind of knew it was Stan all along. I mean, it would explain why I lost my temper. Though, quite frankly, assault with a rolled-up newspaper seemed somehow appropriate given his crime.

The wedding day drew near, and I treated it like an upcoming vacation at the world’s greatest theme park. I knew this would be my only wedding, ever, and I wanted to make it truly epic and memorable.

To that end, we went with a rooftop wedding on top of the firm’s building. There was a fabulous green space up there, complete with a koi pond and an elegantly arched bridge that went over it.

We were to be wed on the bridge itself, meeting each other in the middle. Our wedding planner said it was a really good idea and praised it endlessly.

Our families came in for the rehearsal and follow-up dinner. Of course, my immediate family was close at hand, but I had plenty of other aunts, uncles, and more cousins that you could shake a stick at.

I got to meet Stan’s parents. His mother and I got along pretty good right away. I liked her fiance, Ernesto. They seemed really happy together.

Stan’s father was very kind to me as well and seemed grateful that I was marrying his son. I think he was a little sad to see his ex-wife so happy with another man, but then later he was dancing with my thrice-divorced aunt Victoria, so you know, sometimes love finds a way.

On the day of my wedding, they erected white tents on top of the building to give the bride and groom places to prepare. Stan wasn't supposed to see me, but only two thin strips of canvas separated us from each other. Still, there was so much noise and tumult that he might as well have been a hundred miles away, or at least on a different rooftop.

I paced back and forth in the tent, trying to eat up nervous energy. My mother put her hands on her hips and glared at me.

“Ivy Marie, you stop pacing right this moment. You’re going to step on your dress and get it dirty.”

I looked down at my gown, a white Gahlia Lahav dress with off-the-shoulder statement sleeves. The off-the-shoulder puffs cinched at the elbow and again at the wrist, resulting in two gauzy clouds; the rest of the ensemble was just as dreamy, thanks to a regal, boned bodice and silver beading.

It was one hell of a dress, and I’d fallen in love with it at first sight.

“Sorry, Mom,” I said, starting to sit down.

“No, don’t sit down either!” She came to me and took my hands. “Just try to stand there and concentrate on staying pretty.”

“Ma, for god’s sake,” my sister Irene said. “Would you crawl out of her nose? You’re going to give her issues.”

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