Neighbor Dearest (28 page)

Damien and I were sitting on the couch watching TV Monday night. I was pretending to be immersed in the movie. Instead, I was ruminating about the surgery.

He looked over at me at one point, and I just knew he could tell I wasn’t really paying attention to the television. When he kissed me softly on the forehead, I took it as an unspoken acknowledgement that he knew what I’d really been thinking about. It was so tiring trying to pretend that I was fine all of the time. I wanted these days to pass so that we could have the surgery behind us. At the same time, I wanted them to drag, because I was scared.

He kissed my head again then asked, “Have you thought about what you want to do this weekend?”

“I thought we were just gonna hang out here, have some private time at home.”

“We could do that, or maybe we could do something else.”

“What did you have in mind?”

“Maybe we could get married.”

My heart started to race.
Did he just say what I think he said?

He’d rendered me speechless. “What?”

“We could get married…you know…if you wanted.”

At first, I thought maybe he was joking, but the seriousness in his expression negated that. He was nervous. There was no way he was kidding.

“I don’t understand.”

“I know it’s out of the blue.”

“Yes. It is.”

He took both of my hands in his. “Hear me out.”

I blew out a deep breath. “Okay.”

“It’s all I’ve been able to think about ever since I made the decision to have the surgery. I truly believe I’m gonna be okay, Chelsea. Alright? But if there’s even a miniscule percent chance that I’m not…the one thing I would regret the most in this life is not having seen you walk down the aisle toward me. I’m not trying to sound morbid, because again, I really trust my doctors, but it’s still all I can think about. I want you to be my wife.”

The tears I’d been holding back could not be contained any longer. “I want that, too.”

“Are you not ready? Do you think it’s too soon?”

“Maybe I
should
think that, but I don’t.”

“Me neither, baby. When they put me under and tell me to count to ten or whatever it is they do, I want to think about the memory of you in that white dress. I also want to know that when I wake up, we’ll be married. But full disclosure…I also want you to have the legal right to have access to me at all times and to make decisions if needed.”

When I just nodded in silence, he continued.

“I don’t want you to think that I’m only asking you because I’m scared. I’ve known for a long time that you’re it for me. I was gonna ask you on Christmas morning. You know that was before I even decided to have the surgery. Obviously, my going to the emergency room ruined those plans. Then, I was going to ask you in New York, but by that time, I’d decided on the surgery and changed my mind, thinking it would be better to wait until after. But as we’ve gotten closer to the date, I’ve changed my mind again because I’m realizing I just
can’t
wait any longer. I want it now. Fuck that, I want it yesterday.”

“You were really gonna propose to me on Christmas?”

“Yeah. I have the ring and everything.” He dropped his head. “Fuck, I royally screwed up this proposal, didn’t I? I just basically asked you to marry me with no ring.”

“No. This is so you, Damien. It’s as spontaneous as anything you’ve ever done. I’ll see the ring on our wedding day. I want to be surprised.”

“Are you sure? Because I could just casually walk to the bedroom where I’m hiding it and hand it to you right now. That would make this proposal even lamer.”

“There’s nothing lame about you saying you can’t wait another day to marry me. You are the most unintentionally romantic person I have ever met.”

“That’s a good way of putting it.”

“Will we tell people?”

“I think we should keep it to ourselves. You can tell Jade. I’ll probably tell Ty. But we’ll keep it on the down low. We’ll still have the big wedding in the near future. You deserve that.”

“Who’s gonna marry us?”

“I’ll take care of those details. I was thinking Santa Cruz Beach at sunset. The forecast looks nice. It’s gonna be warmer than usual for this time of year. What do you think?”

“I think that’s perfect.”

“You just need to worry about two things. One…buy a white dress that will make me want to rip it off of you later that night. Between you and me, that just means any white dress. And two…take some time off tomorrow so we can get our marriage license in time for Saturday.”

“I feel so sneaky doing it like this, but there’s also something really exciting about the whole thing.”

“We’re good at sneaking around. It’s what we do.”

“You’re right about that, except usually it has to do with you corrupting me, not making me an honest woman.”

He flashed a devilish smile. “So, we have a date, Mrs. Hennessey?”

“We have a date.”

***

“We’re here to apply for a marriage license,” Damien said.

We’d just arrived at the county clerk’s office. The woman at the desk looked less than amused when Damien began kissing my neck as we waited for her to gather the paperwork. We looked like two horny kids. She had no idea how serious our lives had been as of late.

He took one look at the form and said, “Oh, shit.”

“What?”

“I just realized you’re about to see my middle name. They make me enter it here.”

“Were you seriously never gonna tell me?”

“Probably would’ve told you eventually, but it’s been too damn fun keeping you wondering, Chelsea Deanna.”

“You go first. Put your name down,” I said.

With bated breath, I watched every stroke of the pen as he wrote it:
Damien Homer Hennessey.

“Homer?”

He nodded without taking his eyes off the paper. “Homer.”

I chuckled. “Homer…as in—”

“Simpson. Yup. Homer Simpson.
The Simpsons
show had just started airing around the time I was born. My father was a huge fan. So, he decided that out of all the names in the world he could’ve given me for my middle name, Homer was it.”

“Your mother went along with it?”

“You see how crazy about him she is. He could have sold her on anything.” He clicked the pen and gave it to me. “You know what, though?”

“What?”

“It could always be worse.”

“How so?”

“Tyler got Bart.”

City Hall echoed with the sounds of our laughter. An elderly couple walked by, giving us a dirty look for disturbing the peace.

Damien smiled impishly over at them and proudly proclaimed, “We’re getting hitched.”

When they continued to stare at us funny, Damien looked at me and said, “I can’t believe Daddy gave us his blessing.” He turned to them, pulling me into his side and joked, “She’s my stepsister.”

The couple walked away, looking mortified.

***

Damien was intentionally keeping me in the dark about his plans for the beach ceremony.

My one mission was to find that perfect dress on Friday afternoon. I ended up hitting one local wedding boutique that had a lot to choose from. Since there wasn’t a great deal of time to go from place to place, I vowed to make a decision there. The dress I finally chose was a very unconventional style, but it fit me better than any of them.

It was technically a gown but had four thigh-high slits, two in the front and two in the back. The frock was revealing yet whimsical with a few large strategically placed flowers sewn atop the strapless bodice. The bottom material was sheer, so you could see my legs right through it. It reminded of something a sexy fairy would wear. The fact that it showed off a lot of leg seemed appropriate for a beach setting.

When I texted a picture to Jade from the store, she immediately called me.

“Damien is going to lose it! That dress is hot.”

“You think so?”

“I really do. It’s so gorgeous on you. You need to wear your hair down with beachy waves.” She was silent for a bit then it sounded like she was starting to get choked up.

“Are you crying, Jade?”

“Maybe a little.”

“You know we’re gonna have another wedding, right? You’ll be my maid of honor, standing right behind me.”

“I know. That’s not why I’m crying.” She paused. “I’m just so happy for you. And I think this is just about the most wildly romantic thing I’ve ever heard of—two people just getting married for the simple reason that they can’t wait any longer and keeping it an intimate experience.”

“I never thought I would have the balls to do something this sporadic, but it feels right for some reason.”

“If it feels right, then it is. Tomorrow don’t you dare think about next week or anything negative, for that matter. You hear me? I want you to enjoy every single moment of it. I know it’s private, but please send me one picture of the two of you. Promise?”

“I promise.”

“I’ll be with you in spirit every step of the way.”

That evening, when I walked in the door holding my dress inside of a wardrobe bag, Damien got up from the couch to greet me.

“Did you find one?”

“I did.”

The excitement that filled his eyes made me even happier that I’d said yes. “I can’t wait for tomorrow.” He beamed.

“So, how is this going to play out? You can’t see me before the ceremony.”

“I remembered how adamant you are about that, so I have a car coming to pick you up here. I’ll get dressed over at Ty’s and will head to the beach early to set up. We’ll meet there at exactly eight. I’ll give the driver the precise location. All you have to worry about is looking pretty, which is really not a concern because you could show up wearing a paper bag, and you’d still be the most beautiful girl in the world to me. So, scratch that. All you have to do is show up.”

“I can swing that.”

***

Saturday just felt different from the moment we woke up. It was unseasonably warm by about ten degrees for northern California, so it was in the seventies. Damien and I had our coffee together outside in the courtyard as we admired his mural, which was still a work in progress. In one spot, he’d replicated the famous unicorn he’d previously painted for me. The one he created on my old bedroom wall had to be torn down during the apartment renovations.

It surprised me that I wasn’t nervous at all, not about the ceremony or the surgery this coming week. I was instead experiencing a day of respite, a day of peace where I could just experience living in the moment with him.

He left sooner than expected to get things ready for the beach. I wouldn’t see him until the wedding. Getting ready all alone felt strange yet serene. The dogs were with Jenna this weekend, so I was all alone as I stepped out of the shower and prepared to get dressed.

My hair took the longest. I decided to wear it half up half down and used an iron to make loose curls.

I was doing really great in not getting too emotional until
The Fighter
by Keith Urban and Carrie Underwood came on the radio just as I was applying my mascara. I lost it.
Totally
lost it.

Sometimes, a song eerily comes on at just the right time. The lyrics could have been Damien speaking to me. It was the story of my life: a girl hurt so badly by a relationship, so afraid to trust in love. Then along came a man who would truly protect her and fight for her. He was my fighter. Of course, later this week that would also take on a whole new meaning.

Keep the surgery out of your mind, Chelsea. Not today.

I stood in the bathroom leaning against the sink and sobbed. They were tears of joy—not fear or sadness. Allowing myself to have one good cry before having to face Damien, I let the mascara run and vowed to reapply it.

It took me two hours to get ready after that. Every time I would start putting on my eye makeup, I would think about the song and tear up again. Eventually, I was finally able to pull myself together as I slipped on my dress. Looking in the mirror, I added the final touch, clipping a simple short veil to lay low in the middle of the back of my head.

A car horn beeped outside. I grabbed my silk bouquet of white hydrangeas and a small rolling suitcase before heading out the door.

Damien had sent a town car to come get me. A nice older man opened the door for me and placed my suitcase in the trunk.

The leather seats were cold from the air conditioning as I situated myself in the backseat. I gazed out the window at the sunset during the ride to Santa Cruz.

After the amount of crying I’d done, my body felt relaxed. So much so, that when
The Fighter
ironically played faintly on the town car radio, I was able to listen to the words without tearing up this time.

My heart began to pound as the signs for Santa Cruz Beach started to appear along the highway.

When the car pulled into a parking spot near a private section of the beach, I took an Altoid mint out of my small white clutch and nervously chomped on it.

“Here we are, Miss. Follow the lights.”

“Thank you for the ride,” I said, handing him a ten-dollar bill.

Follow the lights.

I looked to my left and saw nothing. Then, I looked to my right and understood exactly what the driver meant. In the distance, was a long line of tall tiki torches. There had to be at least twenty of them on each side.

The waves were crashing as I made my way toward the flames. When I finally arrived at the beginning of the line of flickering bamboo sticks mounted into the sand, I paused and took a deep breath before looking over at him in the distance.

Damien looked breathtaking as he stood tall with his hands crossed one over the other. He was wearing a light-colored vest with a thin tie over a fitted white shirt that complemented his muscular arms. His sleeves were rolled up, and his beautiful dark hair was disheveled from the wind. He was the sexiest groom I’d ever laid eyes on.

My eyes started to water when it hit me that he wasn’t alone. Flanking Damien were the Double Ds—Dudley on one side, Drewfus on the other. They were standing at attention, more well-behaved than I’d ever seen them. I hadn’t expected him to bring them, but it was an amazing surprise.