Right, so, long time no see. I'm going to stop trying to explain the spaces between these things, but know that my first year of college is over, and that it can only get better from here. You should also know that there are (including this one) three more chapters to this story. Anyway, enjoy that. And if it helps, for this chapter, listen to the song "Marry You" by Bruno Mars ;D

Chapter Nine: Love and Landmarks

I woke to the beautiful morning sunlight, and immediately I groaned. This was officially the hangover of the century. My own heartbeat throbbed like a Keith Moon solo in my head, and immediately I regretted every moment of last night.

I was aware that I'd made it back to the hotel, but how was a mystery. It seemed unlikely that I'd passed out somewhere reasonable. It was also fairly unlikely that Carly would have taken time out of the party to drop me off. It seemed much more likely that someone else had come and got me.

I opened one eye and saw the half-naked form of my savior, standing in the sunlight of the window. With all my heart, I wanted to stare at his shapely ass, but the drinks I'd had last night disagreed with me. I shut my eyes and covered my face with a pillow.

Freddie chuckled when he noticed my movement, and he uncovered my face to hand me the coffee he'd been drinking, kissing me on the forehead, before walking around the bed to the end table and rummaging through a plastic bag. He came back with an aspirin before walking back over to the curtains and closing them.

He went out to the other room and came back with two more mugs of coffee, and I could see the steam floating up from the surface. The first mug was now empty, and he replaced it with a fresh one.

He smirked as he took a drink from his, "So, you're almost thirty and you still haven't learned to drink like a rational person."

I groaned and tried to hit him with a pillow, but I missed miserably, which made him smirk harder, "Fine. What happened?"

"You were making friendly with some coats until one of Carly's friends called me. You saved me actually, but I'll…explain that one later," He looked odd, and I made a note to ask him about it later.

"I don't remember any of this," I admitted. "The last thing I remember was climbing into the limo. Past that it's…blurry."

"Well for starters, Carly's friends mistook me for the entertainment and basically ripped my shirt off. Remind me, she owes me a new shirt."

I laughed, so hard that it hurt my head, and I stopped, "Oh come on. Who would want to see what you're packing?"

"You always seem to like it," he said, this time hiding his grin with the mug.

I had absolutely no comeback, and I decided that having a hangover sucked ass. I groaned and reached for my head, hoping that the gesture would stop his mocking, but he just shook his head and went out to the other room. I heard the TV go on, and I decided that what I needed was an uninterrupted hot shower.

When I came out, having spent all the hot water in the hotel, I felt much better. I felt even better when I found a blueberry muffin the size of my head sitting on the bathroom counter, along with another cup of hot coffee.

I carried them out to the other room, where Freddie was watching the highlights of last night's hockey game. I remembered that he'd spent most of the night at a strip club, and had probably missed the game.

"So how was your night?" I asked, sounding angrier than it had sounded in my head. I sat down next to him on the couch and offered him a piece of the muffin. He popped it in his mouth, and turned the volume down on the TV.

"What? Before or after you puked on my shoes?" he said, smirking.

Shit. "Did I really puke on your shoes?"

He paused for a moment before shaking his head, "No. But you did drool a little bit."

"Great," I said, sure that I'd done worse before he'd shown up. "Well aside from that, how was your night? Did you tip, what's her name, Zippa?

"Zippa?" he asked, confused.

"The strippa," I said, secretly smiling to myself. He smiled outwardly. I'm a genius.

"She's doing well. Putting herself through college and everything," he said, and I could tell he was screwing with me.

"Did she hit on you? Because I know how to make her death look like an accident," I said, playing along.

He kissed my cheek, "I got hit on last night, but not by her…"

"Who was it? One of the other bridesmaids?"

He looked very embarrassed all of a sudden, "I don't want to talk about it."

This must have been what he was referring to earlier. Now I had to know.

"You started this conversation, now spill. I mean, I got so plastered last night that I was hanging out in Coat Land. How much worse could it possibly get?"

He stood his ground, so I became more persuasive, "What, did one of the strippers excite you? Was Major Happy standing at attention?"

None of this seemed to faze him, and he looked serious. I became slightly concerned.

"Freddie, are you okay? You look like you just found out that Milli Vanilli lipsyncs. Or that Ryan Seacrest was straight."

"Please don't joke about homosexuality at a time like this?" he said, finally becoming alert.

I tried to contain myself, but instead I burst out laughing. After a few moments of him chastising me with "NOT FUNNY!"s, I calmed myself to a point where I could listen to him.

"Freduardo, does this have something to do with Charlie?" I said, taking his hands between mine. I could almost see his tail between his legs.

"You know?" he said, actually a little shocked.

"Of course I know," I admitted. "What do you think he and I talked about at that party? Oh right, you were thinking about how we were going to do it in his car at the first chance you took your eyes off me."

"I…that was not…okay, leave me alone, I thought he was straight," he said, suddenly becoming embarrassed for a different reason.

"Not that I'm complaining. I mean, your jealous anger turned you into some sort of sex god for the night, but really, when did you turn into such a guy?"

"I've always been a guy!" he said, his voice breaking toward the end.

"Oh yeah? The kind of guy who watches The Notebook…"

"You made me watch that! And we made out for almost half of it. You weren't even watching it," he said, making all good points. I didn't even like that movie, I just watched it with him to torture him. But it had worked to my advantage, now more than once. It had gotten him even more whipped up.

But now it was time to bring him down, "Okay Freddie, what did the bad little gay man do to you?"

"He kissed me. With his mouth."

There were so many comebacks I could have made at that moment, but I chose not to. Instead, I decided to help him.

"So, do you think you were attracted to him? Or am I more your…type?"

I helpfully slipped my hand onto his thigh, then around the inside of his leg. He smirked a little bit, and I knew his panic attack was going into remission. Either that, or he was becoming too horny to function.

"I guess a quick kiss between a drunk butt pirate and my sexy self is okay once, but I think I'll let you keep me for a while. You look quite lovely when you're drooling and your hair is all over the place," he messed up my hair a little, and I figured that it was probably the former.

"Did you just call Carly's future brother-in-law a butt pirate?" I asked, removing my hand from his inner thigh and placing it on his knee.

"He violated me. I will call him whatever I want," he said, sounding ever so much like a man.

I crossed my legs over his lap, "What am I going to do with you?"

"Love me?" he said, smiling like an idiot. At first, I smiled too, but then I started to think. That was becoming a problem as of late.

I sat up a little higher as I pulled him toward me. He looked a little confused at my mood change, but he did as I expected and brought his lips the rest of the way to mine. I felt the same spark I'd felt with that first kiss on the fire escape, and every kiss since.

I pulled away, and I felt as awkward as the first time I'd said it when I whispered what I'd been holding back since the second I'd seen him in the hotel.

"Freddie, I love you."

He just smiled and bent down kissing my forehead and my nose before answering, "I love you too."

"Well, what are you going to do about it?" I asked, kidding with him a little bit.

I expected him to pull another one of his romance novel stunts and carry me to the bed, ripping of clothes as he went, but Freddie was not Fabio, and instead he moved my legs off of him and got up.

He reached his hand out to help me up, but I was slightly disappointed. We hadn't done anything in almost twenty-four hours, and though our relationship wasn't entirely physical, the guy had been working out the entire time we'd been apart, and I really couldn't help myself.

After glaring at him, I took his hand and he helped me up. I followed him into the bedroom as he walked over to my suitcase and started to rifle through it.

"Excuse me, what are you doing?" I asked, my hands on my hips. I was contemplating whether or not I should put my fist between his shoulder blades while he was turned around.

"Well, since you decided not to put your clothes in the closet like I did, I need to go through this disorganized shame of a suitcase. Why haven't I seen this yet?" He said, holding up a pink lace thong that Mel had thrown in there as a joke. He turned and waited for an answer, but my mouth hung open in surprise. "Right, well, you're wearing it tonight."

I scoffed, but he continued anyway, "Did you bring a dress?"

"I'm going to a wedding, of course I brought a…" I said, mentally logging the items I'd brought.

"You call this a dress?" He said, holding up a gray one I usually wore to work. "Don't you have something a little more…like this."

He held up a dress Melanie had picked out with me that I'd only worn once, to my graduation from law school. I'd never had another occasion to be so dressed up. And now he was handing it to me. It was a white halter dress that skimmed my knees, and Mel told me it made me look like a cross between Athena and Marilyn Monroe.

"I…I can't wear that with pink underwear," I tried, but he pulled up a slip that I'd been smart enough to bring.

He turned around and put his hands on my shoulders, giving me one of those surprising, paralyzing kisses he knew I hated, and said, "Get dressed, we're going out."

He took a hanger out of the closet quickly, before darting into the bathroom before I could even compose my thoughts. It was only then that I thought to shout, "No wonder he made a move on you. What are you, my stylist?"

Deep down I knew that he'd won the argument, but in my head I still had the upper hand. I'd finished it after all. I looked down at the pile of clothes and knew I should listen to him. He must have something planned, and I'm not about to argue with him.

When I heard the knob turn, I panicked, "Close your eyes Fredward."

"Sam, there's nothing you have that I haven't seen. Actually, most of it I've touched, so I don't see…"

"Freddie, I'm already dressed," I interrupted, rolling my eyes. "The one time in my life I want a big reveal, and you're stomping all over it."

He came out of the bathroom, and sure enough, his eyes were covered with one of his hands. I hadn't thought through the fact that now he was unable to see where he was going, and so he just stood outside the bathroom door.

"Do you expect me to just stand here and wait for you to finish?" he asked. I let him wait a few more seconds, looking him up and down while he got more and more impatient. He was wearing dark gray pants with a matching vest, over a white shirt with thin grey stripes. He had a dark gray tie to match, but it was currently thrown haphazardly around his neck, and his sleeves were rolled up to his elbows. I was tempted to take a picture for later he looked so good.

I walked over to him, "Come on Stevie Wonder, I'll get you to the door."

I walked behind him, pushing his shoulders, and gave him a good shove into the other room before closing the door. Now it was time to get busy.

I really did like this dress. The only reason it had been in the back of my closet so long was because I never really had chances to wear it. The heels were cute, even by my nonchalant standards, and my job had gotten me so used to high heels, they were almost second nature. Almost.

Lately I had been thankful that I had cut my hair. It only skimmed my shoulders now, which meant it was much easier to take care of. My naturally curly hair also cut down on the time this would take, as I could usually resort to shaking it out and being done with it. Today was special though, and I took a minute and a half to pin up the front few strands.

Make-up wasn't all that tough, and I even managed to use the body shimmer that had sat in the bottom of my make-up bag for months. If I was wearing this dress, I was gonna glow like an angel too. A few sprays of perfume and I considered myself ready. I grabbed my little clutch, loaded with the few essentials I needed for the night, and hesitated at the door to breathe before opening the door.

He didn't notice the door open, and was instead watching ESPN mindlessly. I could tell because the current topic was some scandal some basketball player caused, and he'd never subscribed to the social aspect of sports. He always said that just because Tiger Woods was a scummy guy didn't understate his ability as a golfer.

"Freddie?" I asked, and he jumped up and turned at the same time. There was a look of shock on his face that made me smile. He must have been deep in thought. Slowly, a smile emerged as he looked me up and down. I did a little curtsy and a swirl for good measure.

"You look amazing," he told me, a little breathless. I suddenly had a suspicion that I was blushing.

I took his hands and widened them for inspection, "You don't look so bad yourself."

He chuckled as we swung our arms a few times, then I ducked in to kiss him, missing his lips a little and hitting right on the corner, still turned up in a smile. I pulled back and he just stared for a second before dropping one hand and kissing the other. I saw that his tie was still undone, and carefully looped it in a perfect knot, smiling when his breath stalled at the touch of my fingers on his throat. He cleared it to show he wasn't affected, but it was a thinly veiled attempt.

"Come on," he said, , clearing his throat again and tightening the tie, before taking my hand and leading me toward the door. "I have reservations at this awesome place downtown."

"When did you find time to make reservations?" I ask, remembering to close the door behind us as he hastens down the hallway.

He smirked as he pushed the button on the elevator, "You do realize it's almost five, right?"

I grab his right wrist, knowing that he wears a watch, and sure enough it's 4:48 pm. I haven't slept in this late since high school, and that was a one-time thing. At least I was well rested for whatever Freddie had planned tonight.

When the taxi pulled up to the place, I punched Freddie in the ribs. He'd failed to mention that the "little place downtown" was easily in the most recognizable building in Seattle. It seemed not to hurt him that much, because he snickered in amusement.

"You told me one time that it was your dream to eat here," he said, taking my hand and walking me toward the door.

"But the Space Needle Freddie?" I answered excitedly as he held the door. "If I didn't know better, I would think you were up to something."

"Who said I wasn't?" he said, his trademark smirk playing across his face.

"You worry me," I joked with him as I took in my surroundings. I'd dreamed of this since I was a little girl, staring out the window at the famous landmark. I'd been up here once on a field trip, but only to look out from at Seattle's landscape from the observation deck. This was the first time I was eating at SkyCity.

It really was something to marvel at, the way the restaurant made a 360 degree revolution around the tower every hour. In my head I was calculating how much this meal would cost, as well as wondering how Freddie had gotten reservations with only a few hours' notice. The question was answered when we got off the elevator and he gave his name to the hostess.

"Oh, Mr. Benson! Mr. Emerson told us to take special care of you!" she said, smiling as she led us to a table closest to the full-length windows, the best view in the entire town.

As he helped me into my seat, I couldn't help but chastise him, "You made Parker do you a favor on the eve of his wedding?"

"Of course not!" he said as he took his own seat. "Carly did."

I rolled my eyes, secretly hoping that soon I would have Freddie wrapped as tightly around my little finger as Carly had Parker. With Freddie, I wasn't getting a frozen yogurt empire, but I'd be damned if I wasn't going to get spoiled.

This would be a good place to start, five hundred feet above the city of Seattle. Though usually I would have wished for a clear night, the stirrings of a storm took shape, and the lightning was brilliant against the windows of nearby high-rises. I was so caught up in what was happening outside, I almost jumped when he spoke.

"It's really beautiful," he said, his trademark smirk on his lips. I knew he was basking in the glory of surprising me, and I hoped he realized that it would probably be the last time for a while.

I rolled my eyes, "Okay fine, this is the best view in Seattle. But remember that you're paying for it."

"It is the best view in Seattle," he murmured. "The landscape's pretty nice too."

I leaned back in my seat with awe, "Wow, really? That was extremely cheesy."

"I live for cheesy. You should learn to live with that," he said, chuckling, drawing more attention to our little table every second.

I shook my head, "I don't have to live with anything. I'm not your wife."

As soon as it left my lips, I wanted to take it back. It wasn't so much that he would take it the wrong way, but now the thought was out there. Now we were both thinking about the possibility of marriage and what it would mean. For me at least, the thought wasn't unappealing.

There was a twinkle in his eyes when he calmly stated, "Don't speak too soon. One day you might be."

I sputtered for a moment before deciding to close my mouth, trying to figure what had happened between high school and now that had made him so damn fearless. He showed clear amusement at my shock, before calmly picking up the wine list, perusing for a moment, before asking if I had a contribution. I just smiled and shook my head.

After an awkward assurance from me, he ordered us both the steak and some sort of a red wine with a valley-type name, while I still stood mesmerized by the fact the playfulness of our week back together had suddenly turned to the topic of marriage. But now that I thought about it, we'd already talked about kids. I'm sure at some point I'd mentioned how my ideal wedding would consist of less ceremony. And as of this morning, I'm sure I'd told him I love him. I still couldn't quite shake it as we quietly ate our meal. It was only after we were done that I was able to come out of my coma, still thinking about the state of things, but able to behave more like a human being, making small talk and such.

The thoughts became even harder to shake when a man at a nearby table kneeled down next to the table and proposed to his girlfriend. The shock on her face couldn't be faked, and into was only after a near heart attack that she was able to nod her answer. The whole restaurant applauded, before going back to their meals. But I couldn't. Because now I was thinking about marriage and babies and all the things I never wanted, and how somehow Freddie made me want all of them.

He knew something was up, and he couldn't take his eyes off of me as he took sip after sip of his wine. It reminded me of my own glass, which I picked up, taking a decent swig for courage, before making an attempt at normalcy.

"You know, my grandfather proposed here," I said, before realizing that this particular anecdote wasn't going to help me get my mind off of matrimony. Still, Freddie looked on, interested in what I no longer was anxious to reveal. "I mean, I know my mother was never the commitment type, but that was probably out of rebelliousness. My grandparents have been married almost sixty years now."

"My grandparents were married almost fifty when my grandfather died," he added, pushing me to tell more. "Maybe it's possible there's some romance in our genes after all."

I raised an eyebrow at him, reminding him where we were and why, before continuing, "Well, I guess my grandparents were poor. Not, eating out of the trash poor, but a good working-class, I've had two jobs since I was fourteen poor. And my grandfather brought her up here in her Sunday best and proposed to her. Now, I think he proposed at a lunchtime meal, because it was cheaper, but it was still beautiful and thoughtful. Especially since he spent probably six-months wages between the meal and the ring. And gosh is it a beautiful ring. She's stopped wearing it now, but she used to let me wear it when I was little. Gilded plating surrounding this little diamond, and there were sapphires on either side. He said they reminded him of her eyes."

I looked up then, and realized with shock, that the way he was staring at me was the same way my grandpa looked at my grandma every time she told that story. My mouth dropped a little bit as I realized that I didn't just love him, I was madly, head over heels, tied up in love with him. And that wasn't going to change. I knew that if he asked me to spend the rest of my life with him tonight, I wouldn't even have to think about the answer.

He didn't break eye contact, but reached across the small table to hold my hand, "It is beautiful."

He answered the questions in my eyes with a smirk, one I hadn't seen in a while. This wasn't your run of the mill "I'm up to something" smirk. This was the anxious, life-changing smirk he only brought out for special occasions.

"Freddie, what are you-" was I all I could get out before he pulled a ring box out of his pocket.

"The ring," he said, breaking into a wide grin. "You really did sleep this morning. I had time to visit your grandparents and everything. I was only there to ask permission, but your grandmother insisted."

"But why?" I said, not willing to make the assumptions I so wanted to make. This couldn't be real.

"Well, Sam. Are you still the spontaneous girl who said yes when I asked her to Prom?" he asked, and all I could do was give him a look, my jaw flat on the floor and unable to form words.

I could feel everyone's eyes on us as he knelt down beside me, "If so, Samantha Denise Puckett, will you marry me?"


"I'm so sorry Freddie"

She's been a broken record for the last ten minutes, and at this point she had nothing to be sorry for. I would be laughing my ass off if it didn't make the blood gush harder.

That's right. I'd forgotten a few of Sam's little ticks while we'd been apart, one of the most crucial being her reflexes, and as soon as I popped the question, she defaulted to her shock mechanism and punched me square in the nose. This wouldn't have been a problem, but as I'd found out long ago, I was prone to excessive bleeding. My necktie had taken the brunt of it, and the napkin the rest.

She was too busy apologizing to me to even tell the nervous waiter what had happened. Thankfully, there had been an entire room of witnesses to the scene. A scene I should be accustomed to by now after knowing Sam for this long.

I was currently sitting in a chair next to the bathroom, where Sam kept running for immense mountains of tissue, enough to have stopped any hemorrhage. She was too busy worrying to notice that the bleeding had almost stopped, and I had to grab her hands to stop her from running about.

She looked at me, and opened her mouth to apologize again, but the look I gave her made her close her lips tightly, though I could tell she still had the words on her tongue. I got up and threw away the tissues, saving one in case, before coming back to her.

I grabbed her hands and kissed her cheek, carefully to avoid my still-sore schnoz, before telling her, "The only thing that bothers me out of all of this, is that I didn't get to hear your answer."

A little taken aback, she stuttered out, "I-I didn't give it."

I pulled out the ring, which had been hastily thrown in my vest pocket, and held it out to her, "Well, what do you say?"

She smiled and looked up at my face, smirking in amusement, "So when's the wedding?"

I chuckled as I slid the ring around her finger, "Whenever you want it to be. We could get married tonight."

I hadn't even realized what I'd said until I looked up again, and saw familiar gears moving in Sam's head. Those were dangerous gears. I was sure of it when she affirmed, "No. We couldn't could we?"

"Sam, are you suggesting we get married…tonight?" I said, chuckling either out of nerves or bemusement.

"I didn't suggest anything of the sort," she clucked as she helped me stand, but finished under her breath. "You did."

She helped me to the hostess's podium, where she asked for the check before handing it to me. I rolled my eyes, though I'd obviously intended on paying from the start. She smiled as she looked down at the ring while I rifled through my wallet, trying to ignore my shaking fingers. She obviously wasn't serious, was she?

After paying, Sam asked the hostess whether the observation deck was open, and when she confirmed that it was, it seemed decided that that was our next stop. I was too baffled at the idea of marriage to argue.

I mean, it had been my idea. And really, I'd rushed into it. It sounds terrible, but my flight was in two days, and I didn't want to leave with a flimsy promise in place. That hadn't worked the last time. I wanted something tangible, and so when I woke up this morning, I decided to go to Sam's grandparents. I had the address, and I intended to ask them for her hand. I wanted to tell my mother that she knew as much as Sam's mother did, and maybe that would console her.

Her grandma was a sweet lady, what I imagined Sam to be in old age. Fiesty, but kind. It didn't take much more than a look to get her permission, and within a few moments she was searching out the ring and telling me the story. I knew that Sam would love to live this out. And I promised that if she said no, I would return the ring. But we both felt that the chances of that weren't likely.

Next I called Carly, giving her the abridged version of my plans. In this version, there was no ring and no proposal. This version just consisted of a romantic dinner before we would have to split up to get things arranged in Boston and L.A. Carly was still trying to find ways around that particular separation. She didn't trust us to get back together, after all of her hard work and meddling.

But then again, neither was I, which is why I committed to this relationship in what was now very obviously the second biggest way I could. I looked over at Sam, who was carefully pulling me toward the windows of the observation deck without interrupting my thoughts. She'd known me long enough to know that I was currently overanalyzing everything, and there was nothing she could do to change that particular trait of my character.

We stared out at the skyline, still flickering with the odd bolt of lightning, until she'd had enough of my silence.

"I know you think it's irrational," she said softly, letting go of my hand just enough to feel her fingertips on my palm. "And it probably is, but I want you to know why I suggested we get married tonight."

"Okay," was all I could provide as an answer. I knew that if she was able to rationalize it, she may convince my brain to follow what my heart was already pulling toward.

"Right now, this moment, up here. It's all ours. Tonight is ours." She said, smiling as she looked up at my reaction, before continuing to explain. "But tomorrow…you know that as soon as Carly finds out, she will want to be involved. And she will do what she thinks is best, but she's Carly, and she will ignore what we want to get what she's thinks we need. And our parents? I know what my mother will do, but yours is a wild card. She'd fake a heart attack to get you to call off the wedding. She would be the one to stand up in the middle of the ceremony to object…and I don't want to give her, or anyone else for that matter, that chance."

Everything she was saying was brilliant and well thought out. Rather than the spontaneous outburst of adoration I'd expected, her mind had been following a very logical path. One that my mind was finding more and more agreeable.

I smirked, "We'd still have to tell them all tomorrow."

She chuckled nervously, "But by then you will be married to a very brilliant lawyer. Not only will we be legally bound, but whatever cockamamie loophole they come up with I can close up."

"So you'd forfeit the big, obnoxious wedding with all the guests and the cake and flowers for just a little ceremony. Just us, the officiate, and the witnesses?" I asked, knowing that if I wasn't sure now, I'd be reminded amidst every fight for the next sixty years.

She dropped my hand and softly laid her hands on my chest, "You just don't get it do you?"

She pulled me into a deep, meaningful kiss before finishing, with a smile on her lips, "That's three more people than I need. All I need is you."

Her kiss and the look in her eyes had me convinced. I smiled and pulled my cell phone out, she looked at me strangely, but I smiled in assurance. I knew exactly how to accomplish this seemingly insurmountable task. I had a secret weapon.

After a five minute conversation with my secret weapon, I had figured out exactly how this was going to go. Sam, on the other hand, was shaking her head while pretending to appreciate the view. She'd never been good at eavesdropping, and she had very little idea of what I was planning.

"So who was that?" she asked, unable to resist.

"That was the guy who's going to officiate the ceremony," I answered, giving her as little information as possible.

She raised an eyebrow, "You know somebody in Seattle that can legally perform marriages?"

Her wording told me that she thought I would muck this up. Leave it to a lawyer to want to make sure her marriage was legal. When I assured her it was legal, she reminded me, "If in twenty years we find out your friend Paco was lying to you about his official status, I am divorcing you on the spot, capiche?"

"Trust me, I have everything worked out," I said, kissing her forehead hoping to comfort her. The worry lines seemed to fade a little, and I was assured that she would go along with what I had planned.

I grabbed her hand and squeezed it, before pulling her toward the elevator. Downstairs I called a cab, but was careful to whisper when giving him the directions. We would be making two stops, one at a jewelry store that was open late, the next at a location I wanted kept secret.

Telling the driver the location reminded me of one of the most crucial elements in the plan. We could not be married without witnesses, and I texted the two I had in mind to make sure they were available.

I asked Sam if she wanted to pick the rings, but she gave me control over the only element grooms usually had control over. It was a heavy burden, but one I could carry well, and I picked two very simple, though not necessarily cheap, rings of white gold to match Sam's ring. It took me twenty minutes, every minute recorded on the driver's tab, and when it was over, I jumped in the cab.

The rings were tucked safely in the breast pocket of my vest as we drove. I knew as we got closer that she was becoming suspect of my plans. When we pulled up in front of familiar doors, she laughed.

"You charming bastard," she said as I helped her out. "Bushwell?"

"It all started here," I reminded here. "I think it's appropriate."

She kissed me again, "It's absolutely perfect."

Spencer buzzed us in as I'd asked, and when we knocked on his door, I found that my plans had been carried out. I could see the large bouquet of lilies on the table, and Spencer assured me that my secret weapon was changing in the guest bedroom.

We were both introduced to Elyse, who, though as stable as Carly had described, obviously had the wild streak you'd need to complete a man like Spencer. She whisked Sam off to the master bathroom, where she insisted on touching up makeup. Spencer had brought out his professional camera, likely spurred by one of his great career inclinations.

"You should be warned that El is a great seamstress," Spencer warned. "I think she wants to change more than Sam's makeup. She's very superstitious. She wants Sam to look different when you see her coming down the…let's just call it an aisle."

"Whatever Sam wants," I answered.

"Oh good, you're on top of that. Nobody warned me. It took me two weeks of sleeping on the couch to understand that concept," he laughed. "Freddie, I wanted to tell you that I'm happy for you guys. And I'm very proud. Just as proud as I will be for Carly tomorrow."

I felt a hug coming, and I opened my arms to allow it. I could ask for no better best man than the man who had practically raised me, albeit unconventionally. My secret weapon came out, and Spencer and I laughed.

"Gibby, you have outdone yourself," I chuckled. And he had. Outfitted in the best of his polyester jumpsuits, his hair was perfectly coiffed and dyed black. For show, his upper lip was vibrating with the soul of The King. I shook his hand, and reminded him to keep his shirt on for the entire ceremony.

He had me sign the marriage license, and then told me to go outside and wait with Spencer. Spencer then dragged me out onto the fire escape before realizing that only one of us would fit once Sam and Gibby were out here. He stepped back into the building, shielding the hallway from my curious eyes.

When it was time, he pulled out his PearPhone and started playing the Wedding March, whispering to nobody in particular, "They have an app for that!"

I couldn't see Sam well until Spencer and I had helped her through the window frame. Spencer had been right. Elyse had turned a few yards of taffeta and bobby pins into a veil, and had indeed touched up her makeup. She looked beautiful, from the tip of each golden hair, to each perfect toe.

Each of us spoke our vows without a note of hesitation, and when it came time to exchange rings, they slipped on without a hitch. The entire ceremony was perfect, from "Tonight we gather" to "til death do us part", each word spoken by one of our dearest friends, who held his Elvis drawl until after he had declared us husband and wife.

In his heaviest drawl, his lip quivering, he announced, "You may now kiss the bride."

As Spencer shuttered away, we leaned in for our third kiss on this fire escape, and our first as man and wife. Like everything else about this night, yes, even my bloody nose, it was perfect.

We laughed as Spencer pitched fried rice at us, before I thanked everyone for their help in making our night. They promised to let us break the news to Carly, and we told them we'd see them the next day at the ceremony. Spencer called us a cab, and soon we were on our way back to the hotel.

The whole thing had taken little more than an hour. It was surreal. Only an hour ago we had been separate entities, as separate as the day we met, when we'd despised each other for the entire world to see. Now we were bound together forever. She was mine.

Her head was on my shoulder the whole ride and my hand held hers, my wedding band pressing into my skin, and I couldn't help but smile. She looked up, and I could see that she was smiling too. I kissed her forehead. Nothing could kill this high.

She hooked her arm in mine as we made our way through the lobby, and I stole a kiss in the elevator. My behavior was bringing to mind "Lovefool" by the Cardigans, and I started to hum the chorus as I scrambled for the key to the room. Sam rolled her eyes and pulled hers out of her little clutch, opening the lock just as I found mine.

She pulled me into the suite by my belt loop, closing the door before trapping me in a drawn out kiss. I reached for the light switch, but she stopped me, and pulled me toward the bedroom, whispering, "Now that we're finally alone…"

We got as far as the bedroom before I stopped her, using every ounce of self-control I had in my body. She ultimately looked disappointed, even more so when I turned the light on and she could see my face. I assumed that it gave away just how caught up I was, and how even I couldn't believe I was stopping it.

"You better have a very good reason for dissuading what might just have been the best sex you've ever had," she said, her hand gripping my shoulders roughly.

"I do!" I gasped, trying to shrug off her hands. "Could you just hold on a minute?"

She rolled her eyes and let go. When I turned to my laptop on the table, she groaned, "We've been married an hour and he's already more worried about his technology than he is my libido…"

I smirked and looked over my shoulder, "And you're already nagging me about it."

She smiled and punched my shoulder playfully, so I went back to what I was doing. I pulled up my music library, and told myself as much as I told her, "Every married couple deserves a first dance."

I knew she remembered the song, and I knew that she knew the lyrics by heart, but this time I changed them. The original lyrics were no longer strong enough. Over John Lennon's twangy vocals, I whispered:

"And I know you see
that I will always love you
and that we, will smile
when she learns that we are two
And I fell in love with you
"

She smiled and kissed my lips as the song finished. I took a moment to stare in her eyes, blue and shining, and I told her I loved her. She didn't hesitate to answer. I kept smiling like an idiot, until I finally asked, "Sam, are glad you married me?"

"Yes," she said, punctuating the statement with a kiss on my cheek.

"So you don't regret it?"

"Never," she replied, this time with a kiss on my chin.

"So you don't see divorce in our foreseeable future?"

"Of course not," she said, kissing my nose this time. "What's with all the stupid questions?"

"I just wanted to make sure," I answered innocently, before my smirk gave me away. "Because I am about to take away the possibility of an annulment."

Her answer to that statement was particularly interesting. But I suggest you get your own wife if you want the details, because this one is all mine.


Once again guys, I am truly sorry about how long this took to update. All of your thanks can go to my editor and motivator pigwiz, because without her squealing, I would have never finished this chapter. Please leave reviews, even if it is to yell at me :)