A/N: This next part takes 6 months after the elevator incident…
Thanks to: Trigun-VashMeryl4eva, Duddley111, Tommy4eva, amanda, Tommys my 21, bookworm0408, iamthatplace, LittleZurawski, LuvTommy56, and xxecstasy for reviewing. It's truly appreciated.
"I stand before this couple this day to united them in the bonds of matrimony…" The minister, an old bald guy, is saying. "If there be anyone present that may present just and lawful cause why these two individuals may not be lawfully wed, let him speak now or forever hold his peace…"
I look at Jax nervously and we both do a quick turn behind us, to see if anyone dares to stand up. I turn a shade paler than my dress when most of the Bride's side stands up.
"Holy shit," I grumble, turning around, and clamping my hand over my mouth. I did not just curse in front of a whole congregation and a minister in a church. Holy ground.
I turn to Jax who's looking at me bizarrely. "Did you just curse?"
I shake my head rapidly from side to side. Now I just lied in a church.
"Yes, you did," he says, accusingly.
"I didn't mean to," I whisper.
"I didn't know you cursed," he whispers back, curiously.
"Well I do in highly stressed situations like this one," I whisper, shrugging a sorry. I move closer to Jax and whisper quietly in his ear, "Are they still standing up?"
He turns his head slightly; rhythmically running is hands up and down my arms. "Affirmative."
"Holy," I start to say shit again, until he pinches me. Hard. "Sh-irit." I finish, punching him in the arm, and examining my own wound. "If that leaves a bruise, I'm going to leave a couple of bruises on you." I snap.
The minister clears his throat and both Jax and I look at him expectantly.
"What would you like to do about this?" he whispers, solemnly.
"We were hoping you had something planned, Paulson," Jax whispers, harshly.
"Sorry," Paulson shrugs, "I've been ministering 65 years and this has never occurred.
Man, screw this crap. This is supposed to the happiest day of my life and I have about a thousand people standing up not agreeing with my wedding? They could have told me this crap before we paid for this thing. Somebody's definitely getting up in here today.
"Here hold this," I say, shoving my bouquet into Jax's hands.
I turn towards the right side of the congregation, pulling my veil up so I can actually see. "All of you sit your booties down in those pews right now," I say, sharply, about half of them sat down. "I mean now!" I shout, stomping my foot for emphasis, the rest of them sat down…except for mom, dad, and Jamie tried to sit down, but mom punched him in his arm.
"Would you sit down," I exclaim, crossing my arms of my chest.
"I knew your dad never liked me," Jax sings in my ear.
"My dad never likes anyone," I snap, throwing my hand in his face to silence him. I turn back to the rebels. "You can get out and don't let the door hit you on the ass as you do." I say.
The congregation gasps.
Damn that whole cursing in church thing again.
"Oh shut up," I reply in disgust, turning around, and snatching my bouquet. "Please do continue reverend." I say, politely.
"Actually it's minister," he corrects.
"I don't give a care," I roll my eyes. "Finish the damn ceremony!"
The congregation gasps and starts whispering feverishly.
Um…damn is a curse word?
"The next person who says a word is getting kicked out of the church on their ass, and the door will be slammed and locked in their face."
I turn back to the altar, "Okay, go ahead--" And then I'm rudely interrupted once again by the doors of the church being blasted open. I look up to the ceiling. "Are you really that against this wedding?" I ask be guy. "Look, I apologize for cursing in church, but desperate times call for desperate measures," I explain, I bow my head, without even turning around. "Would someone please kick that person out…and slam and lock the door like I threatened like two seconds ago?"
"Don't even bother girl, you know I'm just going to kick it down…"
I look up to the ceiling again. "Have a little mercy on me, please?"
I turn around to see Tommy putting his motorcycle helmet on his Harley. He starts to walk slowly towards the altar. Some dumb ass in the audience starts to clap slowly, and it grows into thundering applause by the time he reaches the altar.
"What are you doing?" I ask, as I try to fight the veil back from my face.
"What do you think I'm doing," he asks, literally sweeping me off my feet.
"I don't know what--"
"Rhetorical question Jude," he smiles, carrying me bridal style across the threshold.
"It's my dream dammit, I can answer rhetorical questions if I want to!" I laugh.
"Wake up Jude," somebody shakes me.
"I am a wake," I smile, still dreaming of unfortunate but fortunate wedding.
"Jude," someone says, irritably.
I begrudgingly open my eyes, looking anxiously around at my surroundings, not in a church. No million-member congregation (thank god). I look down at my clothes, no extravagant wedding gown. I sit up fully; on the leather swivel chair I'm sitting in and I look to my left and see Sadie and mom looking at me expectantly.
"What?" I ask, stretching.
"You can at least be a little more discreet about sleeping through her presentation," Sadie whispers, quietly out of the corner of her mouth. "Ugh, you still drool?"
I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand. Oh, please. At least I don't snore as loud as she does—damn hippo. "Whatever," I grunt.
"Your phone is vibrating," she whispers, "It's been vibrating for the last half hour.
I glance down at my vibrating purse on the chair beside me. Damn, probably late for the studio…again. I flick my wrist, looking at my watch, groaning as I confirm my assumption: I'm late. I push ignore on my phone and turn to my bridal consultant who's mouth was running a kilometer a minute.
Yay! At least I get out of this hellhole. Saved by the irate Tommy.
"Olivia," I say, interrupting her as politely as possible, "I've got to go. The white china pattern is fine." I sigh.
"Jude," Sadie and my mom say in unison in equally anxious tones.
"What," I moan, continuing to gather up my planners, notebooks, and copies of Bride Magazine to place them in my leather tote.
"You can't have just a plain white china pattern," mom fusses, as I head toward the door, leaving them sitting around the large table, watching Olivia display china sets.
"Pick the white plates with the gold trimming," Sadie suggests, nodding her head hopefully.
"I don't care," I snap, "Pick whatever you want." Damn, don't they know Tommy is going to kill me once I get to the studio? Don't they know he's going to bitch at me for the next two hours?
"Look," I say, turning around, and leaning against the doorframe. "Sadie, choose whatever you think is good okay?"
"It's your wedding Jude," mom sighs, narrowing her eyes at me.
"But I don't care what kind of silverware my guests eat off of," I whine. I was about to stamp my foot and pout for extra emphasis, but I didn't have time or the energy.
I've been here since 7 this morning, after getting 4 hours of sleep from staying up late at the studio, and I feel as though I've got nothing accomplished.
And I really don't care about silverware or chinaware. Especially when I wanted a damn simple wedding or something—family and friends. But what the hell do I get? A damn Princess Diana wedding, with a 270-person guest list that seems to keep growing by the hour.
No.
Growing by the minute.
Oh, and I do have a wonderful fiancé. The person who wants this big fat wedding, who isn't even here to help with it exactly…he just sends little e-mails or text messages adding things to my already humongous to-do list. Oh, I forgot, every once in a while, he does add people to the guest list.
His ass should be here in Canada picking out damn China patterns and invitations and place cards and wedding themes and all the other crap, not in Australia having fun co-staring in a flippin' action/adventure movie with Cameron Diaz.
"Whatever, Jude," mom sighs, crossing her arms over her chest. "It's your wedding."
"Thank you," I sigh, leaving her and Sadie with a kiss on the cheek. I back out of the doorway rather quickly before they can ask me something else. I have a feeling picking out wine glasses are on today's itinerary. "I've gotta go now. Late." I remind her, pointing to the Dior watch Jax got me for our 6-month anniversary on my wrist.
I guess he's good for some things.
A/N 2: Okay, so it's not in Tommy's POV from here on out. I was thinking about it for a few days now and I came to the conclusion that it'd be much more interesting for me as the writer, and probably you as the reader, if we got into Jude's head already. We already know all about Tommy's issues and he's already laid all his cards out on the table. So…Jude's turn.
It's always good to hear what you're thinking after a chapter. I'm also up for hearing your theories and ideas on how to make the story better. Basically, I'm begging for a little more feedback here. :)
-Airrelle