The Cheat Sheet

“My dress?” I look down. Am I naked? “Oh, I’m already wearing one. See?” I gesture to the fabric in case she’s skeptical.

She laughs. “No, your wedding dress.”

“I didn’t…” My tongue stops moving when I see she’s stepped aside to reveal a whole garment rack full of sparkly, lacy, white, and even some champagne and light pink gowns. There are at least twenty hanging there.

My words tumble out. “Are these…do these come with the chapel? Is this like a dress-up corner?”

She laughs. “No. I believe they are a gift from your husband-to-be.”

I clutch my chest and look back at Lily. She’s trying her best to keep her crap together, but it’s no use. Tears are streaming, and she looks like she already knew all of this was going to happen. I step forward and find a little envelope attached to the garment rack. Inside is a note from none other than Dylan.

Hello, Dimples. Once again, your man came through for you. I hand-selected all of these for you a week ago, and I made sure to only pick what I think you’d absolutely adore (even though I reallllyyy wanted to get you the Cinderella-fell-into-an-orange-creamsicle gown). Love you boo. You’ve got yourself a good man. Hugs and kisses from your second favorite man in the world,

Dylan.

A week ago? That can’t be right. That would mean…

“What are you waiting for?!” Lily says, muscling me out of the way so she can start sorting. “We’ve got a wedding to get to!”

Twenty minutes later, I’m clad in a dress that should be illegal it’s so beautiful. The long sleeves are made of delicate, fragile lace that extends into a stiff-lace bodice. It has exactly 31 pearl buttons down the back. It poofs at the waist and then cascades into a multi-tiered, luxurious, tulle skirt with an understated train in the back. My skin shows through the lace sleeves, the bodice tapers into a deep V at the neckline, and when I walk, it swishes. I am a princess, a ballerina, and a powerhouse badass woman all swaddled in one intricate package. I have never felt more lovely or cherished than I do walking into this chapel.

And then, I have to amend that thought when I realize NOW I have never felt more cherished. My breath catches at the threshold. It’s not at all what I thought it would be. Where’s Elvis? Where’s the smell of gin and bad decisions? No, I’m hallucinating.

This chapel was purchased in heaven and overnighted to Earth. Vaulted ceilings sweep over my head up into the clouds. An enormous crystal chandelier glitters in the middle of the intimate space. White wooden planks make up the ceiling, and gorgeous beams reinforce them. Dark oak floors allow my heels to click-clack over the surface, and the swish of my skirt sounds like kisses from the ocean. Enormous green and pink flower bouquets fill the room.

But that’s not what has me contemplating my consciousness. This chapel is full of people. My people. Nathan’s people. My family, friends, and even his mom. This is no elopement. This is my wedding—a wedding Nathan has clearly been planning since before yesterday.

My dad—my dad who supposedly was going to watch the ceremony from his cell phone—is approaching me via the center aisle. His eyes glitter with unshed tears, and he looks dapper in his suit. He holds out his arm. “Hello, sweet girl. Are you ready to get married tonight?”

Well, now I’m sobbing. Too bad Lily worked so hard on my makeup since I’m going to ruin it in two seconds. Dylan would be horrified. Wait! Speaking of Dylan, there he is! Third row back making a heart shape with his hands and blowing me imaginary bubble kisses through it. I look back at Lily with question marks in my eyes. She’s smiling and nodding. She knew the whole time.

Then my dad starts walking me down the aisle and I see him. Nathan. My Nathan, my best friend and the love of my life, standing in his black tux, fantastic hair waving artfully away from his face, a tear running down his cheek, and a dazzling smile stretching across his mouth. He is mine. He loves me. He loves me enough to plan an entire surprise wedding of my dreams. How did I get this lucky?

I float all the way to the altar.

My dad hands me off to Nathan, and now I’m in a dream. Jamal is standing behind Nathan, and Lily is behind me. The rest of the guys are all lined up in the front row, each tossing me a thumbs-up. My mom does the same thing from the other side. Nathan’s mom settles for a subdued smile and wave.

Nathan takes my hand, and tingles swirl through me. I look up into his jet black eyes and drown in lavish, luxurious, ardent love.

“Still with me?” he asks with a soft, unsure grin.

I swallow and try to speak through my tears. “You did all of this for me?”

“I’d do anything for you. Do you like it?”

I take a moment to look around again. All the smiling faces. There is no oxygen left in this room, everyone running on emotional fumes. We’re all sobbing messes, and I can’t see straight from joy. I squeeze his hand and meet his gaze again. “I love it. I love you. How long have you been planning this?”

“Since I warned you I was going to propose. I hired a wedding planner the next day. Are you sure you like it? Because if not, we can call it all off right now.”

I search for the best words to adequately express how I feel and come up severely lacking. “Nathan—I…you…and all of this!” I shake my head. “Thank you. I love it all so much.” As I take in Nathan’s eyes, his clean-shaven jaw, his wide shoulders, the sleek black tie knotted at the base of his throat, and his strong hands holding mine so tenderly, a feeling of impatience sweeps over me. “So what now?”

His smile stretches, he nods toward the officiant standing off to the side, and then he looks back at me. “If you’re up for it, we get married.”

I let out a short laugh through my tears. “Yes, please.”

My hand is wrapped in Nathan’s as we walk silently down the carpeted hotel hallway. We’re on the 28th floor, headed to what I have no doubt is the best suite in the whole building. We stop outside the door and Nathan kisses my knuckles. Neither of us can believe this is real. He keeps touching me, kissing me, sliding his hand over my skin at every turn—and I think it’s because he’s trying to convince himself this is real in the same way I am. We’re in a fairy tale. We’re puppet shadows on the wall.

He slides the keycard into the lock, and the light flashes green. His forearm hits the back of my knees as he scoops me up into his arms to carry me over the threshold. My heart is in my throat, and we’re both laughing at the cheesy love that’s been echoing back and forth between us all night. I’ve been calling him husband. He’s been calling me wife. Everyone has cringed. But not us—not tonight.