Page 108 of Fathers of the Bride

I wasin complete awe of my husband. He’d remembered our vows. I remembered them too. I mean, not exactly but, well, enough to know if he’d been faking it—he hadn’t been. His words took me back to our weddings—yes, we’d used the same vows when we had our commitment ceremony as we did when we had our legal ceremony. They were still true. For a moment, it was like marrying him again.

But I barely had time to think through what had just happened. And, yes, somethinghadhappened. I just didn’t know for certain what it meant. The rest of the dinner was uneventful, I suppose, except for the part where Pudge and Lissa got into aReal Housewiveskind of fight and tossed a couple glasses of wine at each other. There were a few tears followed by an emotional reconciliation. I felt bad that I didn’t have a diary room to send them to.

A bit later, Bradley stood up to make a toast.

“Hello, as most of you know, I’m Bradley Lincoln. And this is my wife, Avery’s mother, Pudge Collins-Lincoln.” Everyone stared at her. Wine had plastered her bangs to her forehead.

And this gentleman is Terry Collins, Avery’s father. And last but not least, we have Terry’s now-wife and my ex-wife, Lissa Lincoln-Collins.”

She, too, was wine-wet and soggy.

“Yes, we’re a little like the old movie,Bob & Carol & Ted & Alice.”

He tried a giggle, but most of the party didn’t get it.

“Well, all right. We all—the Lincoln-Collins clan as it were, we just want to say how happy we are that Kelly is joining our very extended family.”

There was a brief round of applause, then Bradley said, “Why don’t you say a few words, Kelly?”

“Um, as long as no one throws any wine at me,” she said. Everyone laughed, except for Pudge and Lissa who weren’t quite ready for a joke like that. “I really just want to say thank you to both my future family and my dads. Everything you’ve done for us, everything you’re doing for us, it’s all so amazing. It’s hard to feel like we deserve it all.”

That drew a collective “Awwww.”

“Anyway,” she continued. “That’s it. Just thank you.”

Dinner itself turned out to be quite good. Butternut squash soup. A choice of grilled chicken or shrimp with fruit salsa and a spicy ratatouille. Vegan fried rice for those so inclined. For dessert they served a lavender crème brûlée. Really lovely.

The rest of the evening was a blur of chit-chat and sentimentality. At some point, I found myself next to Pudge and she said something truly remarkable.

“Don’t tell Jeffery, but I think this new generation might actually make the world a better place.”

“But you hate—”

“Oh, I’ll still go kicking and screaming. I have to have some fun, don’t I?”

Still later, after most of the guests had gone and the caterers were packed up, Andy and I sat inside at our dining table sipping snifters of cognac. “I didn’t think the food was bad,” he said. “Considering it was garbage.”

“The food was excellent,” I said.

“Yes, it really was,” he agreed.

I felt I should say something, but I hadn’t had even a moment to process what had happened, so I had no idea what. Still, I went ahead and said, “Thank you for remembering our vows.”

“I’ve never forgotten them.”

“I wish I’d remembered them better,” I said, honestly.

We sat quietly for a bit. I needed to think. I needed to be sober. There was so much to say but it needed to be right.

To break the silence, Andy said, “Avery was very charming, don’t you think?”

All evening he’d managed to strike just the right tone with our daughter. He was solicitous, making sure she was comfortable and enjoying her dinner, but he also gave her the freedom to roam about and speak to whomever. It was as though he was the branch and she was the bird. He held her up, giving her a home, a place to perch, but he always let her fly.

“I think it’s so odd that you hated him at first,” I said to Andy just to tease him.

“I didn’t—you said—you’re messing with me, aren’t you?”

“Just a little. You did say you hated him.”