Page 47 of The Heiress

She winks. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

The ceremony is short and sweet.

We stand hand-in-hand in front of a painting of two women in dresses dancing in the moonlight. The officiant reads something poetic that I barely hear. Too busy zoning out halfway through,staring at Daisy’s face, her smile, the way her fingers tremble against mine like she’s going to pass out at any moment.

When it’s time to speak, I panic. Words evaporate. I’m hardly the smooth talker who would normally take Vegas by storm and forget most of what I did.

“I’m sorry, Daze,” I say. “I didn’t think of any vows. Between falling asleep with you on the plane and everything leading up to this since then, shit, when would I have had the time? Fuck it. Love you. Can’t wait to tell our kids about this so they can be appalled.”

She laughs. So do I. The officiant doesn’t give a shit and Diamond says she’s going to steal it for her next show. My mother rolls her eyes with a shrug, but she’s smiling again, holding back her laughter. This woman has seen more Vegas weddings than she has the inside of casinos, probably. I hope she’s having a good time.

Daisy and I kiss. Who the hell needed words, anyway?

The applause is real. The photographer Diamond hired for us – her cousin, of course – snaps Polaroids. There’s glitter in my bra that sticks out of my white silk shirt, and I don’t care.

I’m married.We’remarried.

We sign the certificate with borrowed pens. Diamond throws a handful of flower petals at us and says something about eternal blessings. My mother poses for a couple of pictures and takes some selfies with us on our phones. She promises to leave first, in case there are paps outside. Her wedding present to us is leading them away.

Perfect timing. My wife and I have places to go.

Later, while Daisy’s stealing a donut from the chapel’s complimentary snack table, I find my mom near the bar, sipping something pink with a slice of lemon on the rim.

“You’re really married,” she says.

“Apparently.”

She studies me as if we’ve never met before. “I didn’t think you’d do this. Not likethis. Did you even get a prenup?”

I shrug. “I didn’t think I would either. But then I met someone who made me want to show up. Without a prenup.”

Laughter tickles her shoulders. “You always did love a grand gesture.”

“Says the woman who once proposed to a stranger at my seventh birthday party.”

“Exactly. It didn’t work, but it was dramatic as hell.”

What do I even do with that? “You think I’m doing the right thing?”

“I think you’ve done a lot of wrong things. Lord knows that as your mother I’ve had a few strokes along the way. Shoulda knew you’d end up like me. Thank God you weren’t a boy. Or that you’re gay. I don’t know which I’m more grateful for.”

“So, you’re saying you’re glad that pregnancy was never on the table.”

I don’t realize I’m choking up until she touches my shoulder.

“You’re not me, Lorde. You’re not what’s-his-face who gave me you after a one-night stand at a wrap-party…”

“Joey Pete. My dad is Joey Pete, Mom. We did a blood test and everything.”

“Do things your way, honey. It’s the only way to live.”

Damn knots in my throat… clogging up the works…

“Thanks for coming,” I croak.

“Don’t thank me yet. I’m sending you a crockpot and a reference to my old relationship therapist.”

“God, you are so West Coast.”

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