Our writing team’s debut novel was called A Storybook Wedding.
On release day, we drove down Northern Boulevard to the Barnes & Noble in Manhasset and found our book baby on a table display in the middle of the store. We snapped a picture and posted it on social media, where CJ’s twenty-five thousand followers liked and reposted it. Then I got down on one knee and proposed to her—for real this time—right in the middle of the bookstore.
“I know we’re technically married,” I said as she looked at me with a combination of amusement and shock. “And to be honest, I’m really nervous right now, because I don’t know what your answer will be. But I’m typically a pretty traditional guy, and I would really like to marry you the right way. I want the big party. I want a thick photo album full of pictures that collects dust on our coffee table. I want the silly favors and the line dancing and the fancy cake. And not just for me. I want it for you, sweetheart. For us. Because our love deserves to be celebrated.” I took a deep breath and pulled a velvet box out of my pocket. When I opened it, a 2.5-carat diamond glimmered up at her, and I smiled as her jaw dropped. “So, Cecily Jane Allerton, for the second time—will you marry me?”
She said yes.
Our wedding was planned for the third week in July on Block Island at New Beginnings Retreat Center. It was two days after Matthias University had finished up their residency week, so the dormitories were available for people to stay in. Block Island is gorgeous in the height of summer, and it just seemed fitting to put a nice bow on our story in the place where we met. CJ got really into the planning process (what can I tell you; my girl’s a planner), and I added my own little touches—things that would only really make sense on the island. For example, I made sure we had a whiteboard outlining all the activities for our guests to participate in: welcome cocktails, rehearsal dinner, ceremony, reception, after-party, and farewell brunch, all in permanent marker so no one could erase anything by accident. I arranged for Maggie to pick up our guests from the ferry and shuttle them to and from the retreat center as needed, and she didn’t fail to disappoint, with a tiny T-shirt that read, I’m just here for the happy ending. I also had a signature cocktail called The Infirmary, which was a reddish-pink rum punch with a lobster gummy pierced by a toothpick umbrella sticking out of the top.
CJ added her special touches too. She ordered a cake for us that was made to look like a stack of books, with our title as the top layer, and a little man-and-wife statue perched in the frosting. She named each table at the reception after a famous children’s story, with titles including Cinderella, Sleeping Beauty, The Frog Prince, and more. And in predictable wedding fashion, she gathered up something old (her grandmother’s pearl earrings), something new (a frilly white garter), something borrowed (Jamie’s veil), and she opted to wear her adorable glasses for something blue.
CJ’s whole family was there, and I’m pretty sure we had as many flower girls and ring bearers as we did guests at the thing. (Her family has a lot of little ones.) Her mom wept happy tears, and Jamie was her matron of honor. My family came up as well, along with about fifty of our closest friends and colleagues. CJ was radiant in a stunning white gown, and my breath caught in my throat as she walked down the aisle of the Spiritual Sanctuary on the arm of her father.
Perhaps my best surprise was the officiant though.
I contacted Dillon Norway right after our engagement in the bookstore and explained to him that it would mean absolutely everything to both of us if he would not only attend but officiate our wedding. Time heals all wounds, and Dillon was going to be on the island anyway for residency. It would only mean sticking around for a couple of extra days, so sure, he said, with his usual laid-back tenor, he could marry us. It was a breeze to get ordained online. Took him less than fifteen minutes.
The look on her face when she walked down the aisle was something I wish I could bottle up and keep with me at all times. She stared at me first, smiling, then looked around and acknowledged various guests who were standing in the aisle seats. She has generally bad vision, which was exacerbated by the tears in her eyes, so only when she actually approached the altar did she realize it was Dillon standing there.
CJ’s face melted then. She broke down crying and gave him a huge unfiltered hug.
“It’s you!” she exclaimed into his shoulder.
“Surprise,” he replied.
When she pulled back, she grabbed my hand and pulled me in for an embrace.
“Uh, uh, uh,” Dillon said, wagging a finger at us. “Not yet, please. There are rules about these sorts of things.”
She laughed, and we took our respective places on the altar.
We wrote our own vows, of course. Dillon gracefully led us through the ceremonial rituals, and then we each took a turn to speak. I wish I could remember exactly what was said. Weddings go by in a blur, so I’m glad I have the video to revisit. The major plot points included how lucky we both felt, how funny life can be, and a laundry list of promises I knew we would both keep forever.
We honeymooned in Fiji, and it was as glorious as you’d imagine it to be. Then we came home and settled back into our day-to-day life. We get caught up in the little stuff now, like what to bring to the Sunday dinners at CJ’s parents’ house or what color couch to put in CJ’s new writing room at our home in Little Neck.
We live happily ever after, just like we’re supposed to.
Because if anyone deserves a fairy-tale ending, it’s CJ.
