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Could anything be more fitting?
It’s too early in the season for real bees.
I just arranged the bee boxes so they’d show the messages I painted on them when I proposed and moved them closer to the middle of the garden where the ceremony will take place.
Colt also carved up a bunch of small wooden bees painted gold and hid them in the flowerbeds around the property. I can see them glimmering in the sun, drenching the entire property in specks of glitter.
Later, I’ll ask Winnie to find them if she doesn’t notice.
It’s just the sort of thing she’ll love. Plus, a friendly mental break from the wedding spotlight.
Soon, we’re ready.
Colt stands beside me as my best man—did you really think I’d give my dumb brothers the honor?—the rings tucked safely in his pocket.
Patton stands at his podium with an oversized Bible in front of him, grinning like he’s about to swear in the president. He doesn’t evenneedthe Bible to do his job, he just said it seemed more ‘official.’
Whatever.
I don’t care if he grows ears like the jackass donkey he is during our ceremony, just as long as we’re married by the end of it.
As long as I get to call Winnie my wife by sunset.
The minutes creep by so slowly.
I’m not an impatient man, but I’m counting every second.
“Dad, are you nervous?” Colt whispers.
“Not quite. More excited, I’d say.”
“Is that why you can’t stay still?”
Behind him, in the front row, Mom dabs at her eyes again. The waterworks have started early.
It’s an interesting contrast.
My last marriage was drab and small, set at a courthouse in Kansas City after Rina insisted on saving money, with about as many people but less than half the joy. Mom objected until she was blue in the face, but with a kid on the way, I settled.
This time, it’s different.
Everything about it, especially the way I feel standing up there, like I’m waiting for my whole life to start.
“How about you, bud? How you feeling?” I whisper back.
Colt grins at me. “Good! Unless she gets cold feet…”
I snort. “C’mon, you’re almost as bad as your uncles.”
He’s about to protest when the music swells, and I turn to see pure sunshine in human form standing at the end of the Rory red carpet.
Holy fuck.
My bride materializes in a sleek white dress, off the shoulder and A-lined, with a modest skirt that fits her like a cloud. There’s something different about it, though, and as she gets closer, I see why.
Bees.
Of fucking course.