14. The Groom

Waverly Place turnedout to be rather lively as the evening wore on. More local patrons filled the booths and seats, some eating, some drinking. Country music played from a jukebox in the corner. And Betty Sue’s laughter rang out with every customer she spoke with.

Honey and I sat at the bar finishing our meals of comfort food, mine of macaroni, and green beans. Hers the same but with ham added. Our rental car wouldn’t arrive until the morning. The trouble was finding a place to stay for the night with no hotels around in this one stop-light town, if you could call it that. The nearest being two hours away.

Betty Sue stopped behind the bar. “I just heard about your dilemma between the car and a place to stay for the night. But I think I have a solution. You said you’re engaged?”

Honey and I exchanged glances, and she answered. “Yes. We’ll be getting married in a couple of weeks.”

“Oh? Where are you getting married at?” George, her husband and bartender, asked. A talkative chap, he told us his life story in about five minutes. After his military service, which we thanked him for, he bought this land and realized the area needed a place for people to congregate.

Years later, here we were. They had two kids and over time, he’d held almost every job available from postmaster, to mayor, to fire chief, and his latest stint as the judge.

Since we had nowhere else to go right now, I assumed we’d hear more of their life story from this couple all night long.

“We’re not sure of the details yet. It’s all very last minute,” she filled him in.

“Maybe we’d be better off to elope. On the way home, we could detour out to Vegas, sweetie pie.” I winked at her, joking. “Wouldn’t that be hilarious? If we arrived home already having done the deed.”

“Actually…” Honey’s face beamed. “That’s not a bad idea.”

“Oh my God, George. This might work.” Betty Sue piped up. They nodded at each other. “Why don’t you get married here?”

Shock registered on Honey’s face. While we were enjoying this change of scenery, certainly she had a more sophisticated venue in mind for her wedding day, even if our nuptials were fake.

“George is a judge and he can marry you tonight. We’ve done all the weddings in the area. Look. We even have an arch you can get married under, all dolled up with flowers.” Betty Sue pushed a button behind the bar, and the curtain on the stage parted, revealing an arch made of rough-hewn logs, with flowers in the corners and draped with white fluffy materials.

“Nice,” I exclaimed, but I’d better defer to my wife to be.

“You’re in luck. We even have a live band coming to play tonight, The Two-Steppers Gang.” George pointed to a poster. The group looked like retired and aged MC club riders in their leather vests and tattoos. It stated they played oldies and the latest hits from country’s biggest stars.

“Oh! Bess, have you cooked up a cake for church yet? This happy couple is getting married tonight, so cut them a slice.” Betty Sue called out to the bar and somewhere someone named Bess responded, “You got it.”

“The best part is we have a honeymoon suite we rent out upstairs for our wedded couples. You don’t have to worry about a thing. Just show up in about an hour and we’ll get you hitched. You can stay and party all night to celebrate.” George finished and grinned, awaiting our response. We both fell speechless.

“Oh! George, remember we have a few bottles of that pink champagne we stashed away after that one wedding last year. We’ll throw that in for tonight’s celebration as a wedding gift.”

“Wow. This is truly a multi-purpose facility.” I admired the old couple for their entrepreneurial vision.

“Uh, Love Muffin, a word over here, please?” Honey found her voice and left her barstool.

“Amazing offer, really. Let me go speak with Honey about it.” I trailed after her. “So, what do you think?”

“What do you think?”

“I think in a few hours we’ll be married and on our honeymoon upstairs. Sounds perfect—er, not perfect, I guess?” Definitely needed to work on reading Honey’s face.

“What if this is the only time in my life when I get married? Is this really the place for it?” Her eyes darted around the bar.

The only time? I scratched my neck. This could be the only time for me as well, considering I never planned to marry in the first place. I could be her one and only. No other asshole like Edward would take her hand in marriage. Or fuck her on her honeymoon night.

My chest constricted at the thought of another man with Honey after me. What the hell was that all about? On the other hand, I can’t really see myself in a traditional type of wedding, at least not the kind Cal’s wedding planner had detailed to Honey about over the past week.

“I’ll let you decide. But in my opinion, this is perfect. We’ve landed here out of the blue, literally, and now we have the opportunity to wed tonight. I feel like this is some sort of sign, like we’re in the right place at the right time.” I ran my fingertips up her arms, enjoying the display of gooseflesh spreading on her soft skin. Later tonight, my fingertips could roam all over this woman’s body. “And I’d love nothing more than to return to Cal’s house with a marriage certificate in hand.”

“I’ll admit, I’d like to see Cal’s face, too.” She peered around one more time, wavering. “But I don’t have a dress.”

“I can solve that problem. I’m a seamstress, and I think I have something upstairs we can fix right up for you.” Betty Sue shouted from behind the bar. Did the woman have bionic ears?

“This all seems just a little crazy, though, doesn’t it?” Honey blinked up at me.

“Sure. But it’d be quite the story to tell our fake grandchildren someday.” I grinned and pressed my forehead to hers, taking her hands in mine. “Haven’t you ever just done something on the fly? Or has your entire life been planned out?”

That must have hit a nerve, considering how she huffed. But I figured she was on the edge of agreeing.

For added measure, I got down on one knee, and swallowed hard. The entire bar must have stopped what they were doing because the music, the people, the sounds from the kitchen and the pool tables all went silent.

I retrieved the ring from my pocket and held it up to her.

Her jaw hit the floor. “What is that? What are you doing?”

“I see you fidgeting with your mom’s ring all the time, and I’m sure you love it. But I couldn’t get Cal’s words out of my head, complaining that I didn’t buy you one. So earlier this week, I bought this ring for you.” I added under my breath for her ears only, “Just a gift, no big deal.”

“It’s beautiful.”

“It’s a little more dainty and elegant than your mom’s. Four carats. A clear diamond in the middle and yellow diamonds surrounding it, which seemed honey-colored to me. I don’t know. I never picked out a ring before, but this one made me think of you. Will you wear it, Hannah Honey Sweetie Pie Adams, and marry me tonight?”

Under her breath, she whispered. “You know my real name?”

I couldn’t see asking her to fake marry me without using her proper name. “Yeah, long story. I’ll tell you later.”

I cleared my throat. “Honey. I know it’s spur of the moment. But hell, what’s life without a little spontaneity? Whether we last a few months or, you know, forever, let’s just go with it. Marry me tonight, become my wife.”

My knees were starting to ache, and legs shook, but finally she nodded, actually tearing up, and shouted, “Yes!”

***

An hour later, George concluded our simple civil ceremony.

When I let it slip that I was of Scottish heritage, he threw an extra special touch in there.

“From one Scotsman to another, might I just say: Fools look to tomorrow, wise men use tonight,” he elegantly quoted, but his eyebrows twitched up and down.

Honey and I exchanged glances at the loaded meaning in those words only she and I understood. We may not have many tomorrows, but we damn well had tonight.

“By the power invested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss your bride.”

Honey’s tears overflowed, streaming down her face. I teared a little myself. So much emotion for just a fake marriage took me by surprise. Lust for her burned my brain. I could only imagine if things felt this way now, how might a real marriage feel?

My hands cupped her cheeks, gently swiping tears away. I leaned my forehead on hers. “Hello wife.”

“Hello husband,” she gushed, a smile splitting her face.

The patrons at Waverly’s all started chanting, kiss her, kiss her.

“We can’t disappoint them after everything they’ve done for us,” I suggested. She nodded, and I dipped her, capturing her lips, plumped and red as usual, lingering in a leisurely kiss, setting off a sharp wild need for her.

The bar erupted with cries of joy and happiness. Many people came up to us with congratulations. And I could hardly think of anything else but moving things along to the honeymoon suite tonight.