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Amy makes her entrance, gracefully, considering how many pink drinks she must’ve had. I look over at JP Elvis and it’s hard to hold a straight face, but once the vows begin, I forget that we’re in a little chapel in Las Vegas and instead I’m just watching two crazy lovebirds promise to love each other no matter what.
“Now for the rings,” JP Elvis says, looking to the groom, then the bride.
Amy gasps as Chuck reaches in his pocket. “Oh, no, babe! I forgot your ring back at the hotel. Oh, crap, I’m so sorry.”
Are rings even necessary for a Vegas wedding?
Just before JP Elvis declares this wedding a disaster, Nick speaks out. “I got it.” He digs his heartbreak out of his pocket and hands it to Amy as if it’s brand-new again.
“How do you have it? Are you one of those magician comics?” Amy asks.
“No, it was mine. Maybe you two will have better luck with it.”
It’s official. Nick’s divorced and he’s ready to move on.
The couple trade the rings and repeat I do’s. Then Chuck takes Amy in his arms and dips her like he’s a navy sailor in Times Square. Nick and I cheer for the happy couple and JP Elvis starts up “Love Me Tender.” The newlywed Mr. & Mrs. Vegas begin dancing, swaying to the music.
Nick approaches me from across the aisle. “So how does it feel to finally be a bridesmaid?”
“Better than when I lost my virginity. What about you? How does it feel letting your ring go?”
“Better than when I got married.” We turn our attention back to the dancing couple. Nick leans closer like he wants to tell me a secret. “Love meat tender ...” he sings along, and I laugh, thinking of how ridiculous yet adorable Nick looked in that Elvis jumpsuit in Memphis.
The song fades out and the happy couple share in one more kiss. Flashes spark around them as the photographer wildly clicks the camera.
“How about one more song?” Nick says, handing JP Elvis a twenty, and makes his request. Soon, our maestro picks the guitar strings in the lovely little melody—“Can’t Help Falling in Love.” Nick shyly offers his hand and I take it, trying to play it cool. Meanwhile, I feel like I’m back at the eighth-grade prom and my crush just asked me to dance. Only Nick is much more than a crush.
Taking the lead, he wraps his arm tightly around my waist and we sway to the soft music. This time much closer than we were at Graceland. It’s hard not to grin from ear to ear. What a perfect ending to a great night with a great man.
Nick spins me around and brings me back into his arms. “Not to sound corny, but I think this is our song.”
Our song. He thinks we have a song?
Don’t freak out, Olivia. Just say something cute.
“Really? And here I thought it was ‘Girls, Girls, Girls.’ ”
He lets out that rich laugh and it warms my heart to know I inspired it. “You’re not like any stand-up I’ve ever known.”
“Yeah, neither are you.”
His soft, sweet smile falls. “Olivia, I need to tell you something,” he starts, and I know he’s about to say something important—something he hasn’t had the courage to say yet.
“What is it?”
“I... um,” he stammers, and stops.
“What? You can say it.”
His eyes search mine like he’s unsure. I watch him take a breath, then let it go. “I really want to kiss you again.”
“Then what are you waiting for?”
