Page 128 of Space Balls: Houston, We Have Liftoff
Vance’s eyes widen.
When Paul McCartney sings about a blackbird, I step toward him.
He knew where we were getting married. He knew about my brothers walking me down the aisle. He even knew about Brit’s plans to decorate.
He didn’t know about the song.
Tears form in the eyes I love so much as I get closer. One falling as I reach him.
My brothers take turns to buss a kiss on my cheeks, but my eyes never leave Vance’s.
“Blackbird,” he whispers when it’s just us and Ian, our Internet-ordained officiant.
Reaching up, I cradle Vance’s cheek, wiping his tear away with my thumb. “Thought it would be nice if your father could join us today.”
“Yeah.” Vance kisses my palm. “He’s here.”
Ian steps forward. “We are gathered here…”
We pledge to love and honor each other in front of our family and friends. All of them family, really. Family we were born to, family we chose.
We exchange rings, our hands resting on my baby bump when we’re finished.
Family we made.
“I now pronounce you husband and wife.” Ian gives us a self-satisfied smile as he looks at Vance and then me. “You may kiss the bride.”
“Come on, old man.” I lift both arms, wrapping them around his neck. “Pucker up.” His eyes move from my eyes to my boobs and then to my lips.
“Sure thing, Rosie-girl.”
We kiss.
Everyone cheers.
I press the remote again.
Glitter bombs explode.
Hashtag happily ever after.
