“It was.”
My father takes the microphone. “Good afternoon, all,” he says. “Welcome to our home here in Bellevue, and to Christian and Ana’s wedding. If you don’t know me, I am very proud to say I am Christian’s dad, Carrick. I’m hoping to speak to all of you at some point during the afternoon or evening. In the meantime, you should all have a glass of the good stuff and I’d like us all to raise our glasses to Christian and his beautiful wife, Ana. Congratulations you two. Welcome to the family, Ana. And both of you, be kind to each other. To Christian and Ana!”
My father gives me a warm, tender smile, which I feel all the way to my toes. I raise my glass to him as everyone raises their glasses and the words “Christian and Ana” hover around us all.
“Please make your way to your table. We’ll be starting lunch shortly,” Dad continues.
I pull out Ana’s chair; she sits and I take the seat beside her. From here we have the best view of the entire pavilion. I’m thankful to be seated at last. I’m ravenous. The table looks lovely covered in white linen and floral arrangements with white and pink roses. Our parents join us, with Elliot and Kate and Mia and Bob.
Ana and my mom have opted for a buffet, but as the bridal party, we’re served our appetizers while our guests find their seats. There’s fresh sourdough, with some herby-looking butter, and a delicious cheese soufflé with a delicate garden salad. My wife and I tuck in.
Elliot is going to make a speech. He’s had several glasses of champagne, so this could go either way. We’ve finished our entrée of king salmon en croute and I take a gulp of Bollinger and brace myself.
Elliot winks at me and rises from the table. “Good afternoon, everyone. Welcome. I’ve drawn the short straw—I mean, I’m honored to be Christian’s best man, and his brother, and to be asked to make a speech. But forgive me—public speaking is not my thing. Growing up with Christian Grey was not my thing, either. He was a nightmare of a brother. Just ask my folks.”
Fuck! Elliot? But this gets a laugh. Ana squeezes my hand.
“This man can beat the shit out of me and did, frequently. And any of you who have ever kickboxed with him will know, don’t mess with him. He’s badass. He’s a solitary guy. When he was younger he’d rather have had his head stuck in a book than be out tearing up the town with the likes of me. You’ve all heard how he found school challenging, so I’ll gloss over that—but somehow, by some fluke, and not because he’s smart or anything, he managed to get some sort of education and even talked his way into Harvard.
“But it turned out Harvard wasn’t for him, either. He wanted to throw himself into the world of commerce and high finance. So, he did…he’s doing kinda okay with that.” Elliot shrugs, apparently unimpressed, and again the audience laughs.
“During this whole time, not once did he show any interest in the opposite sex. None. Well, I’ll leave you to deduce what we all thought.”
Oh, for fuck’s sake. I roll my eyes, and Elliot grins. “So, imagine our collective surprise and delight when not too long ago he shows up with this beautiful young woman, Anastasia Steele. It was obvious from the beginning that she’d captured his heart. And for some strange reason, maybe she was dropped on her head as a child”—he shrugs once more—“she fell for him.”
Again, with the laughter from our guests!
“Today they tied the knot, and I just want to say, Christian, Ana, congratulations. We are rooting for you. And no, she’s not pregnant!”
There’s a communal gasp around all the tables.
“To our bride and groom, Ana and Christian!” He raises his glass. I want to kill him, and judging by Ray Steele’s expression, so does he.
Ana’s cheeks are pink, and she looks a little shocked.
“Thanks, Elliot,” she says, laughing.
I throw my napkin at him and turn to Ana. “Shall we cut the cake?”
“Sure.”
The DJ is primed and ready as Ana and I make our way to the dance floor. I sweep her into my arms as everyone gathers around us, and Ana settles her arms around my neck. The sweet, soulful words of the song ring through the pavilion, and from the corner of my eye I see Carla clutch her throat in recognition. And then I’ve only got eyes for my wife as Corinne Bailey Rae starts to sing “Like a Star.”
Everyone else fades away. And it’s just the two of us gliding across the floor. “Like a star across my sky,” Ana whispers. She lifts her lips to mine and I’m lost…and found.
“Mom, thank you for not insisting on a Catholic wedding.”