So now you have the full story. The parts you didn’t get to see before, the answers to some of the questions that might’ve been bugging you.
When it comes to advice, I’m kind of tapped out at the moment—there’s not a whole lot left to give. But I’ll leave you with this:
Life is a short, wild ride. Don’t try to put the brakes on, don’t overanalyze or try to control it. If you’re lucky, like I was, you’ll find that perfect someone who’ll sit next to you and hold your hand through every curve, every up and down.
And that? Just makes it even more fun.
Epilogue
Six months later . . .
Las Vegas, Nevada. The Elvis Chapel. It’s technically called A Little White Wedding Chapel, but because there’s an Elvis impersonator officiating the services, it’ll always be the Elvis Chapel to me. We wait in an adjoining room for our turn, surrounded by signed photographs of the celebrities who’ve exchanged vows here over the years.
It’s been six months since our first kiss on the dance floor. Maybe you think that’s too fast. Maybe you think we’re crazy. But for Dee and me?
Crazy is actually pretty normal. Let’s look at how we became engaged, for example:
“Mr. Fisher, please lay back down!” the nurse yells in a commanding voice, but I ignore it.
What a f**king disaster.
Instead of a private, romantic evening at Dee’s favorite restaurant, I’ve somehow ended up in a hospital gown, on a gurney, in the back room of the goddamn ER. The only thing that could make it worse would be if the engagement ring was to get stolen by a sticky-fingered nurse or random homeless person.
I designed the ring myself, and it’s perfect. A flawless two-carat diamond surrounded by emeralds, rubies, and sapphires. It’s colorful, unique, just like Dee. Now I just have to give it to her.
I dig my pants out of the standard-issue plastic hospital bag and pull the ring box from the pocket. Then, before the nurses can stop me, I sprint down the short hall to the emergency room waiting area where Delores is. She stands up as soon as she sees me.
I walk to her and drop to one bended knee. “I want you to belong to me. And I want to be yours. I want to be the reason for your smiles. I want to spend the rest of my life listening to all your theories and teaching you the difference between a good movie and a bad one. I want to be eighty years old, holding your hand during couples skate—and I promise to love you every single moment from now until then. Will you marry me, Delores?”
Yeah—so that was my romantic proposal.
Dee didn’t want to have a long engagement, and I was thrilled about that. The “why wait?” philosophy is how we started, and it hasn’t let us down yet. So, here we are—me, Dee, Drew, and Kate—in Vegas for a quickie wedding and kick-ass celebration.
I look in the mirror and try to straighten my tie, but it doesn’t cooperate.
“Are you sure about this?” Drew asks from behind me, dressed in his own custom-tailored tuxedo.
“Never been more sure, buddy.”
I give up on the tie. Screw it.
“Are you really sure?” Drew asks. “It’s not too late to back out.”
I smirk. “It’s way too late.”
His eyes drop to my crooked tie, and he steps in front of me to fix it—like a father helping his teenage son on prom night. Once it’s straightened to Drew’s satisfaction, he puts his hands on my shoulders, looks me in the eyes, and says, “Are you sure you’re really sure?”
Kate’s frowning voice calls from across the room. “Drew?”
“Yeah, babe?”
“He’s sure. Don’t ask him again or I’m not going to be happy. And you won’t like it if I’m not happy.”
I think they’ve been watching Incredible Hulk reruns recently.
Drew nods. But as soon as Kate’s back is turned, he silently mouths, “Are you sure? Really sure?”
I laugh. Because I’m sure.
And because I never—ever—thought I’d see the day when Drew would be cowed by a chick. But it looks like he has.
Haven’t we all?
I adjust my cuff links as Dee walks up beside me, warm contentment in her eyes. She’s wearing an all-white, all-lace, long-sleeved minidress with baby blue stilettos. Her strawberry-blond hair is pulled up at the sides, and a shoulder-length veil cascades over her hair like a halo, held in place by a small diamond tiara that sits atop her head.
“What are you thinking about?” she asks me.
I wrap an arm around her waist, pulling her close. “I was thinking about the first time I called you. I didn’t want to admit it at the time, but I think I was kind of nervous.” I kiss her temple, gently. “I’m not nervous now.”
She rests her head against my chest. “Me, neither.”
Just then, the double doors to the chapel open, and a crystal-encrusted Elvis steps into the room. “Are we ready to get this show on the road, kids?”
Drew and I take our places near the altar as the doors are closed once more. Instrumental guitar music begins, the doors open, and Kate steps into the archway. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Drew smile wide as he follows Kate’s every move. When she gets down the aisle, he winks, and Kate answers him with an adoring smile.
Once Kate stands in her assigned spot, the doors reopen again, revealing Dee on Elvis’s arm. As he escorts her down the aisle, he sings our wedding song, “Can’t Help Falling In Love.”
When it comes to advice, I’m kind of tapped out at the moment—there’s not a whole lot left to give. But I’ll leave you with this:
Life is a short, wild ride. Don’t try to put the brakes on, don’t overanalyze or try to control it. If you’re lucky, like I was, you’ll find that perfect someone who’ll sit next to you and hold your hand through every curve, every up and down.
And that? Just makes it even more fun.
Epilogue
Six months later . . .
Las Vegas, Nevada. The Elvis Chapel. It’s technically called A Little White Wedding Chapel, but because there’s an Elvis impersonator officiating the services, it’ll always be the Elvis Chapel to me. We wait in an adjoining room for our turn, surrounded by signed photographs of the celebrities who’ve exchanged vows here over the years.
It’s been six months since our first kiss on the dance floor. Maybe you think that’s too fast. Maybe you think we’re crazy. But for Dee and me?
Crazy is actually pretty normal. Let’s look at how we became engaged, for example:
“Mr. Fisher, please lay back down!” the nurse yells in a commanding voice, but I ignore it.
What a f**king disaster.
Instead of a private, romantic evening at Dee’s favorite restaurant, I’ve somehow ended up in a hospital gown, on a gurney, in the back room of the goddamn ER. The only thing that could make it worse would be if the engagement ring was to get stolen by a sticky-fingered nurse or random homeless person.
I designed the ring myself, and it’s perfect. A flawless two-carat diamond surrounded by emeralds, rubies, and sapphires. It’s colorful, unique, just like Dee. Now I just have to give it to her.
I dig my pants out of the standard-issue plastic hospital bag and pull the ring box from the pocket. Then, before the nurses can stop me, I sprint down the short hall to the emergency room waiting area where Delores is. She stands up as soon as she sees me.
I walk to her and drop to one bended knee. “I want you to belong to me. And I want to be yours. I want to be the reason for your smiles. I want to spend the rest of my life listening to all your theories and teaching you the difference between a good movie and a bad one. I want to be eighty years old, holding your hand during couples skate—and I promise to love you every single moment from now until then. Will you marry me, Delores?”
Yeah—so that was my romantic proposal.
Dee didn’t want to have a long engagement, and I was thrilled about that. The “why wait?” philosophy is how we started, and it hasn’t let us down yet. So, here we are—me, Dee, Drew, and Kate—in Vegas for a quickie wedding and kick-ass celebration.
I look in the mirror and try to straighten my tie, but it doesn’t cooperate.
“Are you sure about this?” Drew asks from behind me, dressed in his own custom-tailored tuxedo.
“Never been more sure, buddy.”
I give up on the tie. Screw it.
“Are you really sure?” Drew asks. “It’s not too late to back out.”
I smirk. “It’s way too late.”
His eyes drop to my crooked tie, and he steps in front of me to fix it—like a father helping his teenage son on prom night. Once it’s straightened to Drew’s satisfaction, he puts his hands on my shoulders, looks me in the eyes, and says, “Are you sure you’re really sure?”
Kate’s frowning voice calls from across the room. “Drew?”
“Yeah, babe?”
“He’s sure. Don’t ask him again or I’m not going to be happy. And you won’t like it if I’m not happy.”
I think they’ve been watching Incredible Hulk reruns recently.
Drew nods. But as soon as Kate’s back is turned, he silently mouths, “Are you sure? Really sure?”
I laugh. Because I’m sure.
And because I never—ever—thought I’d see the day when Drew would be cowed by a chick. But it looks like he has.
Haven’t we all?
I adjust my cuff links as Dee walks up beside me, warm contentment in her eyes. She’s wearing an all-white, all-lace, long-sleeved minidress with baby blue stilettos. Her strawberry-blond hair is pulled up at the sides, and a shoulder-length veil cascades over her hair like a halo, held in place by a small diamond tiara that sits atop her head.
“What are you thinking about?” she asks me.
I wrap an arm around her waist, pulling her close. “I was thinking about the first time I called you. I didn’t want to admit it at the time, but I think I was kind of nervous.” I kiss her temple, gently. “I’m not nervous now.”
She rests her head against my chest. “Me, neither.”
Just then, the double doors to the chapel open, and a crystal-encrusted Elvis steps into the room. “Are we ready to get this show on the road, kids?”
Drew and I take our places near the altar as the doors are closed once more. Instrumental guitar music begins, the doors open, and Kate steps into the archway. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Drew smile wide as he follows Kate’s every move. When she gets down the aisle, he winks, and Kate answers him with an adoring smile.
Once Kate stands in her assigned spot, the doors reopen again, revealing Dee on Elvis’s arm. As he escorts her down the aisle, he sings our wedding song, “Can’t Help Falling In Love.”
