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Ismoothed down the front of my dress and rested my hand on my stomach. Why the hell did I feel so nervous? It was nothing to be scared of. I was about to do something that would make me happier than I’d ever felt in my life, yet it was terrifying.
“Are you sure about this?” I asked.
Joey frowned. “What?” He tucked some stray hair behind my ears. “Of course, I’m sure. What brought this on?”
I blew out a breath making my hair blow in the breeze of it.
“Hey,” he said. “I took ages straightening your hair.” He fiddled with my fringe. “Are you really going to get it cut short again? I like it this length.”
While we’d been in Florida I hadn’t bothered getting my hair cut. It was now shoulder length and if I kept it long it was because I loved the time Joey spent styling it for me. I’d never been a girly girl, never been one for doing different hairstyles. That meant that since I’d grown it, generally my hair was tied back in a ponytail, but if I did wear it down, Joey loved spending ages drying and then straightening it for me. He could easily put himself to work in a salon if the rock business stopped working for him.
“You just like your new career as a hairdresser,” I joked, reaching up on my tiptoes to kiss him.
“Oi,” he said, winking at me. “No kissing before the wedding.”
Considering he’d shagged me in three different positions before we’d even had breakfast that morning, his argument was a little thin.
“Are you sure?” I asked again, my insecurity appearing for the first time in months. Six to be precise because our time in Florida had been pure bliss. Six months of sun, sex, swimming in the ocean and falling deeper and deeper in love.
“Dais,” Joey whispered. “Marrying you tonight is the best idea I’ve ever had.” He picked up my hand and kissed my ring finger where a gorgeous yellow diamond sat. “You really think I’d have shelled the bucks out on this and our wedding rings if I wasn’t?”
“I told you not to spend so much money.” I patted the breast pocket of his purple velvet jacket. Safely stored in there were a diamond wedding band and a platinum wedding band, bought at a fancy jewellers the day before.
“Worth every fucking penny,” he said, pulling me to him and squashing the netting of the skirt of my white dress with tiny daisies on it. “Now, come on, because Elvis is waiting.”
Cliched as it was, Las Vegas Elvis was on the other side of a chapel door ready to marry us. We were on our way home to the UK but had decided to go to Vegas for the weekend before we did. We’d checked into our suite and were watching the fountains from the window when Joey slipped a square cut yellow diamond on my finger. There’d been no mushy speech or getting down on one knee, he’d just slipped it on and said, ‘thank fuck it fits’, and that was that. He kissed me, then we had sex against the window before going out and eating chicken wings at Hooters. It was the best night of my life.
“You ready?” Joey asked, taking my hand, and leading me to the door. “Because I know I am.”
I nodded because I was more than ready. I was ready to marry him, the love of my life. The past didn’t matter. What I’d gone through all those years ago was insignificant. All that mattered was the sexy, tattooed rock star whose black tux trousers hugged his arse to perfection. Joey Farrow was what was important because he loved me, he cherished me, and he treated me like a precious jewel.
“Let’s go, Joseppi,” I said, pulling open the door to our future.
The chapel wasn’t what I expected. I’d thought maybe it might be all red leather and feathers, but it had clean lines throughout with high ceilings, dark wooden beams, and huge windows. The centrepiece of it all was a massive crystal chandelier sending sparkling diamonds of light around the room and it actually took my breath away.
At the end of the white carpeted aisle was a white pulpit with what had to be a twenty stone Elvis standing next to it. His white, bejewelled jumpsuit was stretching at the seams a little, there were beads of black sweat at his temples, probably from his hair dye, and it was clear he was way past retirement age.
“Fucking hell,” Joey hissed as we stood at the end of the aisle. “Think he’ll live until the end of the ceremony?”
I giggled. “Sush, he might hear you.”
“I doubt it. Even if he did, what’s he going to do, run after us?” He raised an eyebrow. “And if he did he wouldn’t catch us.”
Elvis nodded towards a woman with a huge beehive hairdo, standing to one side, and within seconds music started. We both smiled as the first notes of Daisy Daisy (On a bicycle built for two) started to play. We didn’t have ‘a song’ and we’d both thought it was funny when I recalled it from childhood. The fact that Nat King Cole was singing it was a bonus.
“Ready?” I asked.
“Abso-fucking-lutely,” Joey said and started us down to aisle.
Elvis went through the ceremony, at record speed, all done with a curl to his lip, and I couldn’t stop giggling.
Joey nudged me. “Stop it.”
“I can’t help it,” I hissed.
We turned to the front, and both gave our attention back to the king, most definitely with a little K.
“Do you take this woman to be your lawful wedded wife?” he asked.
