Page 8 of Reckless Chance
The woman says, “Time to pick your rings. We have an assortment of styles and sizes for you to choose from.”
“Do we need rings?” I ask between large sips of champagne. Why does another drink sound appealing right now?
Lowri pats my chest, laughing. “Of course, we do, silly. It’s … ummm … part of the … wedding theme for … the … photos.”
She steals my glass of champagne and finishes it off. Hers is already empty.
“Why not? Which one is your favorite?” I ask, struggling to control my speech.
“You should … umm … pick mine, and I’ll … umm … pick yours.”
“You neeeed the biggest one,” I say pointing to a ring with a large pear-shaped crystal in the center and baguettes on each side. “How muuuuch is that one?” I’m slurring again. No more champagne.
“A hundred and fifty,” the woman says smiling.
“A bargain. Weeee’ll take it along with whichever ring Lowri picks for meeee.”
When it’s our turn, we hold the handrails to steady ourselves and climb the steps onto the stage. It’s decorated with pedestalsof white roses and greenery surrounding an arch in the center. Arriving at the rose-covered arch, we attempt to look happy but serious as we pose with an actor dressed as a minister. We’re both fighting off snickers at this point.
The photographer says, “Smile for the camera,” as the actor plays his role, asking, “Lowri, do you take this man to be your husband?”
“Yeeessss.” She laughs.
“Sean, do you take this woman to be your wife?”
“Why not.” I shrug, smiling for the photo.
The actor says, “Place the rings on each other’s ring finger.”
Between giggles and hiccups, we do as he instructs.
“Congratulations, you may kiss the bride now.”
Finally, the good part. Leaning in, I pull her close and plant my lips on her warm, soft mouth. She throws her arms around my neck as she parts her lips, inviting my tongue to tangle with hers. A zap of electricity travels from my head to my toes as she moans. The world around us becomes fuzzy as we lose ourselves in each other. Grasping the back of her head, I pull her even closer, needing more.
A woman coughs and taps on Lowri’s shoulder, breaking the moment and bringing our kiss to an end sooner than I wish. The woman announces, “It’s time to throw the bouquet.”
Lowri turns her back to the crowd on the casino floor and heaves the flowers over her shoulder.
As we leave with our souvenir rings, Lowri says, “That was soooo muuuuch fun. You knoooow what we should … ummm … doooo next?”
“I’m afraid to ask.”
“Let’s skip the Oooomeeeega and go straaaaight to the honeymooooon. Okay?”
Thank fuuuck. Mission accomplished. She tossed our no-repeat rule out with the bouquet.
“Absolutely! Whatever my beautiful bride wants, she gets,” I say, keeping the joke going and moving the evening toward my bedroom.
What could be better than a honeymoon without having to actually get married?
First, we’ll sober up over a late dinner. Otherwise, we’ll be too drunk to enjoy our fake wedding night.
6
SEAN
We detour to one of my restaurants and take our time sharing a steak-and-lobster dinner for two with tons of water. When we finally arrive at my apartment, we’ve sobered up enough that we’re only a little tipsy rather than flat-out drunk.
