By Star
Charlie's POVI shouldn't be here. Surely I should be with my Mom. Shouldn't I be giving her way instead of Jan? That sounds right, I should be giving my Mom away and Jan should be Coach's – damn it! Gordon's – best man. Not the other way around.
"Nervous, Charlie?" Asks Coa – I'm going to have to hit myself every time I think that. His name is Gordon. Or Dad. Maybe I could call him Dad from now on.
I grin at him goofily. I'm sure I'm wearing the same expression I had on my face a couple of days ago when the Queertet decided to play some hockey in Banksie's yard and I took a shot to the head. Fulton's slapshot to be exact.
It was fun up until that point. We dragged Jesse and Guy over, even Maya played. Taz just bounced on the sidelines yelling "Go Team!" every couple of seconds.
Mom pitched a fit, she was convinced the swelling wouldn't go down in time for the wedding. Hence I've not been allowed out for a few days and have had permanent brain freeze because Mom insisted I have an ice pack on the bump at all times.
Am I nervous? Hell no. My Mom is finally marrying the only guy that I approve of. The only one that will measure up to this ideal Dad I've had in my brain for the last fifteen or so years.
Well, I'm not looking forward to making a speech. That's going to suck. I had to call Maya and she helped me write it. The girl's on a writing scholarship, a genius. Actually, I would have said that Scrat from Ice Age was a genius if he'd helped me write the damn speech.
Although I doubt Scrat would have been as much help as Maya.
Damn it! What's with this internal babble?
"Charlie?" Bombay asks again. (Well done self, if in doubt, use his surname). "Are you ok?"
I grin my patented idiotic grin. "I'm fine. You?"
"I'm great. This is the happiest day of my life." He gives me a huge grin (which is just as goofy as the one I gave him).
"Not scared you're going to flub your lines then?" I ask.
He frowns. "Well, I wasn't…"
I grin at him cheerily. "Just ad-lib if you forget."
"Thanks, Charlie." He claps me on the shoulder.
*~*~*~*
We take our seats at the front of the church. Gordon (well done self!) is muttering nervously under his breath. I'm running through a mental checklist. The most important one is making sure that everyone (especially Taz and the Ducks) knows that when they get to the 'if anyone knows why these two soppy gits can't get wed…' bit if they jump up and shout "Me!" they will be arrested.
Gordon (again, good self) has drummed it into me that by saying that they have a reason (even when joking) they have started a legal proceeding and the wedding will be held up at the very least, possibly even cancelled.
I have told Taz twice a day. Not only that, I've told her she will be barred from the Conway/Bombay household if she even sighs too loudly during that part.
The vicar nods at us and we stand up.
It's showtime.
*~*~*~*
The words are lost on me, but the feeling isn't. I keep sneaking glances at Adam the whole way through. Maybe one day it will be us…