way.
We did it.
We said yes.
I grab her face in my hands and kiss her fiercely. I kiss her with all I have, to the point where I might be messing up her hairdo but I don’t care.
She smiles against my lips and whispers, “I love you, Padraig.”
“I love ye, Valerie,” I tell her, pulling back and taking my first real look at her as my wife.
This is the life I’d always wanted.
I grab onto her hand, give it a squeeze and then we walk down the aisle, everyone on their feet and throwing white confetti into the air so it falls down around us like snow, much like the first night we met.
VALERIE
“I want to pose with the owl next,” Sandra whines, as we sit on the low stone wall in the front of the B&B, watching as Hooter McGavin perches on Padraig’s arm, white gauntlet and all, with Hemi, Alistair and the Major gathered around him. It’s quite the dashing scene and I’m starting to think Hooter is getting more attention at this wedding than Padraig and I are.
“No,” Angie says, sipping from her glass of champagne and pointing it at Hemi. “You want to pose with that Jason Momoa wannabe.”
“He’s not a wannabe,” Sandra hisses at her, smacking Angie on the arm and causing her champagne to splash out of the glass. “He’s just perfect. And I don’t want to pose with him. I want to climb him like a fucking tree.”
“You’ll get your chance soon enough when the bridal parties get their photos together,” I tell her, taking a sip of my champagne. “And anyway, I thought you were dating that actor.”
“What actor?” she frowns.
“I don’t know. The one from your show.”
“You watch my show?”
I shrug. “When I’m bored.” But I’m smiling.
Sandra is moving up in the world. Her character was written off her other show and now she has a big part in an HBO comedy series as a moody teenager, which is funny since Sandra is in her mid-twenties. She died her hair back to dark brown to get the part and it worked.
“No, we aren’t dating,” she says with an aggravated sigh. “You know, men in the film business are assholes.”
“We just call them arseholes over here,” I say.
“Okay,” the photographer calls out to us. “Let’s get some pictures of the bridal party with the owl.”
“Yes!” Sandra says, jumping to her feet, her blue strapless dress billowing behind her as she goes over to Padraig and the groomsmen.
Angie rolls her eyes and gets up. “This bird better not shit on me.”
“Owl shit is good luck in Ireland,” I tell her.
“You’re joking,” she says to me after a moment.
I shrug and laugh. “I don’t know, it feels like everything is good luck here.”
She pauses and gives me a proud look. “You’ve come a long way, Val. I’m not surprised that things are only going to get better for you. You know you deserve it, don’t you?”
I nod. “I know.”
She then looks over to our parents who are walking down the driveway toward us, my mom holding onto Tabitha’s hand. She was our flower girl at the start of the ceremony.
Angie adds, “No matter what they say, remember to believe that.” Then she goes to grab Tabitha’s hand and join the photoshoot where her daughter is immediately enchanted by the owl.
I smile at my parents as they approach. My mother has been on her best behaviour, though I’m not sure how long that will last, but my father has been keeping her in line and so far she’s stayed away from the champagne, which helps.
“When is it our turn?” my father says, sounding a lot like Sandra did earlier. “You know, it’s so rare that I get dressed up like this anymore. I want the photos to catch me in my prime.”
“Oh, you are far beyond your prime, dear,” my mother says to him.
But my father just laughs. “If that’s true, what does that make you?”
She rolls her eyes and gives me a sweet smile. “It was a beautiful ceremony dear. I couldn’t help but cry. Everyone was saying how beautiful you look.” I pause, waiting for her to contradict them. “And they were right. I’ve never seen you look so beautiful, so happy. And that dress fits you like a dream.”
“Thank you,” I say, getting teary-eyed at the compliment. “I am happy.”
“I know,” she says. Then she frowns. “But then that owl came out and gave me such a fright. You know those things carry