Eyes wide. Breath catching in my throat. Unable to move. Unable to breathe. Is this the right decision? Where is she? Did she decide not to come? I wouldn't blame her if she did, not in the least.

And then I see her, marching down the aisle on her father's arm, smiling wide, him looking proud. I look quickly to where my own father sits, and he flashes me a thumbs up. Then she detaches from her father, walks the last few steps, and stops beside me. I realize I've been holding my breath, and let it out, trying not to let her see that I'm shaking.

We turn and clasp hands as we say our "I dos." I look down into her eyes, twin pools of blue, and feel myself melt. I smile nervously and she giggles as I reach down and plant a kiss on her lips. And then that's it. And we're married—we're married! We're married! I can tell from the smile on her face that I look quite goofy as we begin to walk down the aisle, joining up with family and friends.

My father slaps me on the back, a little too hard, and I stumble. She gives her new father-in-law a mock-irritated look, and helps me stand back on my feet. "Are you OK?" she asks, but I can tell she already knows I am. It's hard to think I could ever not be OK.

"Yeah, I'm fine."

"Good. I don't like my nerds damaged."

"Hey, I'm not a nerd, I'm a dork!"

"The very dorkiest!"

"You're one to talk!"

"I know I am—after all, you are the King of Dorkdom!"

"Which now makes you the Queen!"

"My marriage to you does nothing but add to my status," she says, putting a fake snooty look on her face. "I was already the Empress!"

"And now—"

"We're the dorkiest dorks in all of Dorkocity!" we exclaim in unison, and fall into a fit of laughter, oblivious to our well-wishers. When we recover, she whispers,
"No relation," and we start laughing all over again. Suddenly, there's an explosion overhead, and she and her father stop laughing and tense up. "Can you cover for me?" she asks, and I shake my head.

"No." She smiles, but we don't laugh as she brushes my cheek with a kiss and turns, running down the aisle and out the door with her father, a dehydration cube already in hand. Anyone else would be fearful, frantic, panicky, but I just run after them with a straight face, determined to watch what is likely to be an epic battle. I'm not fearful, even worried, though there is that little niggling of concern at the back of my mind. But I'm not worried.

Metrocity can take care of herself.

Author Comments:

A little blurb that flew from my keyboard. It's Bernard and Metrocity's wedding, just in case you didn't realize.