Page 74 of Roughing the Player
Huh? Somehow I thought we were always arguing. Except for the times he teases me about something, and I laugh. Maybe Kaylee has a point.
“So, I’m willing to go along with the flow. Just don’t ask me to smile pretty for the cameras.”
“I won’t.” That much I can promise her.
With our wedding in two weeks, I throw myself full tilt at the planning. Marty encourages me to take whatever time I need, but I don’t want to abuse the privilege. So I try to arrange for everything after hours. The church is easy. Kaylee and I are regular attendees. The reception, however, is another matter. You just don’t snag a reception hall that will hold 350 guests on two weeks’ notice.
But a couple of days after we announced our engagement, the Outlaws’ Event Coordinator calls to offer her services. I’m no fool. Knowing a lifeline when I see it, I clutch it desperately to my chest. Before I know it, she’s booked the Chicago Hilton which is more than glad to host our reception. Guess when a wedding comes with all kinds of free publicity, you tend to say yes. I’m sure it doesn’t hurt that the Outlaws regularly drop a small fortune at that place.
Not only does she take care of the reception, but everything else as well. So in the end all I have to worry about are my wedding gown and Kaylee’s bridesmaid dress. You’d think with practically every detail taken off my hands, I’d just lay back and chill. But the opposite happens. The closer the wedding day gets, the more jittery I become. And then People magazine calls, asking if they can feature our fairytale wedding in their weekly spread.
Kaylee’s reaction is predictable. “Fairytale wedding? Honestly, Mom.”
“Yeah, I know, honey.” I agree, trying to keep my objections at bay. The whole thing is ludicrous. But what choice do I have? His team and my sports agency are loving all the publicity.
Finally, the wedding day arrives, and before I know it, I’m standing in front of my priest.
“Dearly Beloved, we’re gathered here today . . .” Father Sullivan’s voice fades away as he speaks the words that will unite Brock and me in holy matrimony.
How on earth did I get here? One minute I’m kissing Brock, the next I’m getting married. Well, it’s too late to back out now even if I wanted to. Which I mostly don’t.
I glance back toward the congregants. His entire football’s team is here with their wives or significant others. We’d made it a kid-friendly wedding so some brought their children as well. Kaylee is my maid of honor and Trevor, Brock’s center, is his best man. The height differential is ludicrous. Kaylee comes up to his middle of his chest. But both of them, thank God, are taking it in stride.
At least Kaylee and her best friend made up after Meghan came over to apologize. She said she was sorry, that she shouldn’t have yelled. And that’s all that matters. With everything that’s going on, Kaylee needs someone her own age in her life.
“Eleanor Ruth Adams, will you have this man to be your husband; to live together with him in the covenant of marriage? Will you love him, comfort him, honor and keep him, in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all others, be faithful unto him as long as you both shall live?”
This is really real, isn’t it? “I will.”
“Brock James Parker, will you have this woman to be your wife; to live together with her in the covenant of marriage? Will you love her, comfort her, honor and keep her, in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all others, be faithful unto her as long as you both shall live?”
Someone in the audience snickers, probably at the faithful line. But Brock ignores it.
“With all my heart, I will.”
Oh, geez. He didn’t have to add that, did he? It’s not in the script.
Before I know it, Brock’s taking my hand in his. “In the name of God, I, Brock James Parker, take you, Eleanor Ruth Adams, to be my wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish until we are parted by death. This is my solemn vow.” He sounds so sure of himself, so sure of me, so sure of this marriage. How could he? It’s going to last all of five minutes.
When I repeat the same vow and get to the love and cherish part, he squeezes my hand. He’s pretty thrilled to be getting me out of this deal. No clue why. It’s a mystery to me.
“Eleanor Ruth Adams and Brock James Parker, having witnessed your vows of love to one another, it is my joy to present you to all gathered here as husband and wife.” He turns to Brock. “You may kiss your bride.”
Brock’s arm slides around my waist and pulls me to him. Rather than a chaste kiss, he full out frenches me. Right in front of God and everyone. I fight with every cell in my body not to respond. We need to keep this somewhat PG-rated, after all.
Only when Father Sullivan whispers, “You’ll have enough time for that later, son,” does Brock let go.
He turns and whoops, punches his arm in the air. And then he strides up the aisle so fast I have a hard time keeping up with him.
The Outlaws’ event manager booked a pretty good band for the reception. For our first song, we dance to “The Way You Look Tonight.” As he gazes into my eyes with his full of love, tears spring to mine. Who knew Brock was such a good actor?
The buffet tables practically groan with the mountains of food on them. When it’s time for the toast, Trevor makes a surprisingly sweet one. But when it’s Brock’s turn to say a few words, he floors me.
Drink to me only with thine eyes,
And I will pledge with mine;
Or leave a kiss but in the cup,
