A Billionaire for Christmas

I take her hand and give it a squeeze.

“You are one lucky man,” Steve says.

“Don’t I know it.”

“OK.” Steve rubs his hands together so fast I almost fear he’ll spark up a fire from the friction. “Let’s do this! Your chariot awaits!”

He pans his hand at the window to a sparkly lavender van. On the side panel, in large fancy script font, it says “Fingers’ Fantasy Weddings” and there’s a picture of a cheesy car-salesman-type dude—presumably Fingers—making a heart with his fingers. And nope. I can count ten of them, so he’s not missing any.

Emma and I look at each other and shake our heads.

“OK,” I say. “Let’s go.”

Emma looks over at the dressmaker. She’s already sitting down at the machine, barking orders at everyone as they bring her fabric and lace. “But… what about my dress?”

Steve smiles even bigger, his toothpick still bouncing on his lips. “The dress is for the last wedding. That’s the special one. The first two are just a taste of what could have been.”

Emma nods like this makes sense. “Ah. OK. We’re in your capable hands, Steve.”

And can I just say? I love her optimism. I’m pretty sure this whole thing is gonna be a disaster—I mean, it hasn’t been planned, none of our family will be here, and the whole setup is ridiculous—but she believes.

And because of that… I decide to believe too.

We go outside and Steve swings the side door of the van open with a flourish that would make Vanna White jealous. And inside it is what can only be described as tricked out.

I’m talking full-on Seventies fuck-truck kind of tricked out, complete with purple and pink shag carpet that’s so long you can probably comb it, a pink leather loveseat, a bar, and yup—no Seventies porn van is complete without a bed in the back. There’s even a canopy of purple mosquito netting hanging above it, just in case you feel the need to consummate your marriage on the road.

Emma barks out a laugh.

But we get in. Steve closes the door with a thunk, and then a few moments later he’s in the driver’s seat and we’re on our way. “First stop, New York, New York, folks! Rollercoaster wedding, here we come!”

“Yay!” Emma claps. “You wanted to do that one, right?”

“Sounds fun, right?”

“So much fun. This is gonna be the best day ever!”

We settle in on the couch, swaying back and forth as Steve takes tight corners over to the Strip and the New York, New York Hotel. Emma is still smiling, but quieter now.

“What’s up?” I ask. Because I can tell when her mood is shifting.

“Nothing’s up. Why do you ask?”

“Because thirty seconds ago you were squealing and now your eyebrows are crinkling.”

“I’m super excited. We’re getting married, Jesse!”

“I know. And you got to pick the cake, and the flowers, and you’re getting a one-of-a-kind Fingers’ Fantasy Wedding custom dress.”

She sighs. “It’s pretty cool. I’m actually having a lot of fun. And I know the dress will just be parts of other dresses repurposed, but… it’s still a nice touch.”

“But…” I say.

“But… I wish Natalie, and Hannah, and Mila were here, ya know?”

“We can just go home. Just have our regularly scheduled wedding next spring.”

“And give in to my mother’s diabolical plan?” She huffs. “With Kraken Karen up on the altar with us? No thank you.”

“I kinda wish Johnny and Joey were here too. We’d probably tear this town up with a Boston bachelor party.”

“Oh, my God. You guys so would. And Huck and Wald. And Darrel—”

“Who’s Darrel?”

“Hannah’s boyfriend.”

“Oh. I just call him what’s-his-name.”

“And Diego, and whichever two or three boys Natalie brings as her dates.”

“If that’s what you want, Emma, we can do that.”

“No. We’re here. We’re in the middle of the best day of our lives. A day we’ll never forget. Just think of the stories we’ll have to tell when this is over!”

“Yeah.” I chuckle. “That’s for sure. It’s already pretty unorthodox. I can only imagine it gets crazier from here. I mean, roller skates?”

Emma giggles. “I sorta love my dressmaker. She’s so… mean.”

“Fuckin’ little Russian ladies. You really can’t hate them.”

“Twenty minutes though?”

“Yeah. We’ll see. But… Steve did say that the dress is for the last wedding, so I’m sure it will be fine.”

I’m a little bit stressed about the time factor. Because this is fun and crazy and all, but my almost-mother-in-law will not forgive me if I don’t deliver her daughter for Christmas Eve dinner.

But then Steve takes another tight corner and Emma slides into me. And I make the most of the opportunity by kissing her. It’s a nice, soft, easy kiss that immediately relaxes me. I let all the worry go and just trust in… fate, I guess. Trust that the universe knows what it’s doing and this day will be perfect.