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Hey there! Remember me?!
I know, I know, it's been a while, you've probably even forgotten what's actually going on in this story; a re-read, perhaps? Anyway, this chapter has been months in the making, I've been through a few different drafts and scenarios and such. All silly, really. I tried not to get bogged down in details that are really only important to me but it still came out pretty self-indulgent so for that I apologise. I did have fun writing it, though, so I hope you enjoy reading it.
Lots of love,
Kenz.

Disenchanted Lullaby - Chapter 59

I walked down the aisle alone.

It really wasn't as big a deal as I had anticipated. It was a short distance from the door of the church to the alter in front of which Justin stood. I did as he had told me, fixed my gaze with his, took a deep breath, and put one foot in front of the other. And it was fine; the quiet panic that had set in at our pre-wedding family dinner slowly dissolved, and really, as Justin said it would be, it was fine.

"Easy for you to say," I fumed in a whisper, stepping inside the front door of Lynn Harless' Millington home, a mere two nights before our wedding. Warmth blanketed us as Justin closed the door, shaking off his coat as we followed a stampeding Logan into the kitchen, "Everybody you've ever known is going to be there, I can't even get my dad to ditch me himself, never mind actually show up."

Forty hours before we were due to marry, my aunt and uncle arrived at Memphis airport without my father. "He sends his apologies," Tom told me, producing a somewhat crumpled white envelope from his breast pocket, a sympathetic smile on his face. Naïve surprise kept me from responding verbally. Why should this be any different from every other important event in my life?

"Tom offered to make the walk with you," Justin reminded me gently of the charitable offer made by my dad's brother earlier that evening, looking back towards the hallway when the front door clicked open to signal his parents' arrival.

"Not the same," I muttered, slipping myself onto a chair at the kitchen table and resting my cheek on my hand, "I can't believe he sent me a cheque."

He set an empty coffee cup in front of me and a juice box in front of Logan, "Seriously? Isn't the fat cheque kind of Dan's signature stand-in?"

I hummed in reluctant agreement, turning my head just as Lynn pulled gently on my ponytail, her bracelets clinking together as she did so, "We have a list of lovely men who are all eager to walk you down the aisle. Personally, I think Paul is a pretty nice choice, but I may be biased."

I smiled tightly at them both, "Thank-you. But it's not even the fact that he won't be walking me down the aisle that's bugging me, I just really wanted him to be there, you know?"

There were sympathetic nods all round. "Maybe it'll be easier without the…complication…of him being there," Paul suggested carefully.

Lynn shot her husband a warning look, "If you want it to be somebody from your family, maybe Liam would do it. Or maybe even Brandon?"

"I think I'll be okay by myself," I tried to smile at her, "I feel a little better now that it's in the church - less chance of me falling on my face."

Our hopes for a private outdoor wedding were quashed last minute when Willowmount park in Millington was suddenly infested with paparazzi who had been invited by 'a source close to the happy couple.' It took three and a half hours for us to relocate to a church ten minutes away from Justin's house. Turns out you can pull off most things when you throw around words like 'donation' and 'high-profile', not to mention the name 'Timberlake.'

Excusing myself, I pushed away from the table and crept upstairs, flicking on the light in our temporary bedroom so that I could see my way around the mounds of crap we had accumulated over three busy days. Logan had claimed his father's old bedroom as his own a few years ago, so we were bunking in Lynn and Paul's guestroom. For once, most of the stuff littering the floor belonged to Justin, since the majority of my essential possessions were at Rachael's parents' house, where I would be staying as of the following morning.

I dropped my bag on the floor to shrug off my jacket, before crouching beside the bed to drag the leather purse closer. I tossed an umbrella and a magazine onto the carpet with a soft, satisfying thud, their removal allowing me to better rummage for my phone. I'd done this before; the angry search for my cell, huffing and puffing and silently rehearsing exactly the right way to chew my father out for bailing on me. My fingers clenched around the cool thickness of the device as I yanked it out of the bag, straightening to sit on the edge of our unmade bed. What could I tell him that I hadn't said a million times before?

Justin and I are perfect for each other. He supports me. He won't leave. You always let me down. I have a family of my own. I'm happy. You're never there.

The whole thing was getting really, really old.

"Who you callin'?"

"No one," Was the reflex reply before I even turned to see him leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest.

Justin's expression was disbelieving.

"My dad," I admitted, turning the phone over between my palms.

"You need to let this go."

I stared at the wall, silent. I wanted so badly to disagree with him, to escalate this conversation into another fight about my stubborn attachment to my father, but we'd played this scene before. I would say something like "He's still my father" and Justin would be chivalrous, loyal, valiant even, telling me things like how I didn't need my father when I had him, that my dad didn't deserve to be involved in our life. I didn't want to replay it again, so I nodded, dipping my head to remove the elastic that held my ponytail, before running my fingers through my hair.

"We're going to be married in less than two days. You'll be a Timberlake, he won't be your family any more. If you can let this go, try to accept the fact that he won't be in our lives, that he doesn't want to be…" He fell silent as if to let me draw my own conclusion, "I know you don't want to hear this, Beth. But if you can't hear this coming from me…" He trailed off again, "All I know is that you're happy until Dan pulls some bullshit like this, and he is your dad and I can't take that away from him, but the guy is a jackass. He's a selfish jerk, and that's his problem, but you let him do this to you. Every time he does something fucked up, you forgive him. You lay down, and you take it. You have to stop making excuses for him." There was silence for a few seconds, "I need for you to let this go."

I nodded again.

"I'm sorry if this makes me an asshole."

"No," I assured reluctantly, "You're right. I just…I really want to talk to him about it. I just want to know why."

"He hasn't given you a legit reason for any of this shit yet,," He stepped further into the room, closing the door behind him, "Why would he start now?"

"I just…" I kicked aimlessly at the carpet, "There are a hundred things I want to say to him. He bails on me two days before my wedding, gets my uncle to send 'his apologies', sends a cheque as a stand-in….and I don't get to say anything to him? I have no right to reply to that?"

"If you respond, you dignify it. If you call him up, no matter what you say, he knows he got to you, he'll know that he has this hold over you," I felt the bed shift as he sat next to me, "Why do you let him do this? You don't let anybody else treat you this way. You can take care of yourself, I know that, and usually I let you deal with this kind of stuff, but this time I'm stepping in. I'm asking you to leave it alone. "

The annoying thing was, Justin was right.

This was how it worked. Now, I have gained enough perspective to the point where I can see such moments as defining because of my father's absence. Maybe Dan had inadvertently done me a favour by staying away, keeping his negativity to himself. Had I leaned on him in such times as when Justin and I broke up, when I fell pregnant with Logan, and when Justin got sick, I may not have learned to trust or rely on my husband as fully as I did. More than that, I may not have learned to trust or rely on myself.

Maybe his bailing on walking me down the aisle made me even more determined to take my last walk alone.

Instead of shredding the white envelope, as I was so tempted to do, I gave the value of the cheque to the same cancer organisation we had asked our wedding guests to donate to in lieu of wedding gifts. Instead of donating in Dan's name, I asked that the contribution be made under the name Mrs. Beth Timberlake.

The more I thought about it, the more angry I became with myself. I let him get to me. I was just about to get married in the company of all our closest friends - my mom would be there, as would my brother, my son, and most everyone else I cared about, - and still all I could focus on was the absence of my father. And did I mention that I was about to get married? When had I become such a whiney little pain in the ass?

So I did as I was told, and I left it alone. Actually, I turned my phone off and followed Justin downstairs to enjoy the company of his - and what would soon be my - family. I had a lot to be thankful for, and if I'd learned anything over the past two years, it was that shit happens, and if I had to cut the thin thread that connected me to my dad so that I could focus on being happy, it was a tiny price to pay.

Almost four months previously, I arrived home from work to find Justin and Rachael getting drunk off champagne while Logan ate icing off a 'congratulations' cake.

"All clear?" I dared to ask after a few seconds of a sickening mixture of hope and confusion.

"All clear, baby," He was by my side in a second. I hadn't realised I'd been holding my breath 'til he kissed me, my fingers grasping in the material of his shirt. That night, I wrote my wedding vows. It might have been the champagne, but the numbness was definitely starting to fade.

"I give you this ring as a symbol of my unending love," I started quietly, clearing my throat when the minister whispered for me to increase the volume, "I love you as my best friend, my family, my partner, the perfect complement to both my strengths and weaknesses." I paused to take a breath, aware of our audience. I remembered the pep-talk Justin had given me the day before: I was speaking only to him. "You are everything I dared to wish for and thought that I might deserve. You have had my heart for some time already, thank you for keeping it so carefully, I promise to be careful with yours. I promise to love you and care for you with everything I have, should I have everything or nothing, in sickness and in health, for as long as we both shall live."

I was thankful that I had stuck with the short version, there was so much more I wanted to tell him, but my mouth was dry, the thud of my heartbeat deafening, the blue of his eyes suffocating. I hoped to have time to tell him later. There was a soft murmur from our assembled guests. I could see out of the corner of my eye, Justin's parents beside my mother and Liam, side by side in the wooden pews of the country church. Small posies of autumnal leaves and grasses sat below each of the stained glass windows, still in place from the recent harvest, deep greens and rich oranges an odd contrast with the blue of the one alter arrangement we had brought along ourselves. My mind wandered to the clearing in Willowmount Park, probably still strewn with fairy lights and bouquets similar to the one sitting on the alter behind me. It had been too perfect, too picturesque, too romantic. Justin told me it would also have been too cold and too dark but I knew he was secretly as disappointed as I felt.

Reverend Bowes, a short, portly man with the signs of age in his skin and voice, took the second ring from my son and handed it to Justin, whose left hand held mine close to his body as he let the diamond-encrusted band hover over the end of my finger.

"I have known and loved the girl you were and the woman you have become. Thank you for growing up with me, I promise to grow old with you. Thank you for my son. Please accept this ring as my vow to you and think of me when you wear it." He paused, a smile playing on his mouth, "So, always." He shifted slightly as a small titter of laughter passed over the assembled congregation, "Please wear it in the knowledge that I will forever love and protect you, honour and cherish you for everything you are and everything you are not, for the rest of our lives. Along with our son you are the most precious thing in my life, I promise to treat you with the respect and…" A smile played on his lips, "Adoration…that you deserve. I love you."

I looked away from his eyes, to the ring, and away from the ring, to the material of the black tux jacket covering his right shoulder in a search for something to focus on that wouldn't encourage me to cry. Justin seemed to realise this, placing a steadying hand on my hip, the other still holding my left hand.

"In the book of Corinthians, chapter 13," I heard, "The Apostle Paul tells us that if we do not have love, we have nothing. He tells us that love is both patient and kind, it is not selfish. Love patiently accepts all things. It always trusts. It always hopes, and always remains strong. Love never ends. Justin, do you promise to love Beth in the ways defined by the Apostle Paul?"

"I do," He was solemn.

"Beth, do you promise to love Justin in the ways defined by the Apostle Paul?"

"I do," I tried to project my voice though it still came out softly. Justin must have heard me, I don't remember being pronounced man and wife, but I remember the kiss that confirmed it. Nor do I really recall how I got to the Plaza hotel in Memphis, though I do have some pretty photographs of us outside the church; alone, with Logan, and with our families. I don't know that pictures are really memories if you don't actually remember them being taken.

The dining room of the hotel was closed for business that day, and enough security had been employed to ensure that neither the public nor the paparazzi that had eventually gathered outside could encroach on our special day. This allowed us and our forty-something wedding guests to enjoy a meal together before the real party. There was no exact organisation to the gathering, we ate and drank, people chattering in groups, music playing softly in the background. I wasn't sure exactly what was happening when Trace stood and tapped a fork off of his champagne flute.

"As best man, I'd like to take a few minutes to say a little something. First, I'd like to thank everyone who helped pull this off. Lynn and Paul, Sandy and Liam, Rachael, Annie and of course Logan, who did an awesome job with the rings. Reverend Bowes, for a beautiful ceremony, the hotel staff and caterers, and finally, thanks a bunch to the paparazzi for forcing us to move the wedding inside. I thank you sincerely that we didn't have to freeze our asses off in the park, and on behalf of everyone here, I'd like to say 'Screw you'," The applause for that one was so fervent that Trace had to ask for some calm before he could continue, "Oh, and I should probably thank my wife, since she did most of the work on my speech."

Elisha's shoulders shrugged in confession as laughter rippled over the tables.

"Obviously, I've known Justin his whole life. Actually I probably know more about him than I ever wanted to. I was there at the Mickey Mouse Club, I toured with *NSYNC, I even worked officially as his assistant when he released his first solo albums. Now I work unofficially," He paused, "Which means doing the same stuff but not getting paid for it. I was there when he won his first Grammy award, I was with him on his first movie set. And that was all really cool, seeing my friend become so successful, not to mention stinkin' rich. Seriously, he's the wealthiest guy I know, and I don't just say that because I've seen his bank statements, I know how wealthy Justin is because, as well as seeing the success of his career, I've seen him succeed in his personal life since he met Beth."

Justin's face curled in mock offence, Logan perched contentedly on his lap, his arm draped lazily across the back of my chair.

"I was in the club the first time they met, waiting in the car the first time he kissed her on her dad's front porch. As best friend I have been privy to a lot of other firsts, most of which would be inappropriate for me to talk about here," Laughter escaped some of our guests, others looked mildly embarrassed on our behalf, "I was at the hospital when Logan was born, and I've been lucky enough to spend time with him and his parents, too. I guess what I'm trying to say, is that I knew Justin before Beth, and I've known him since, and I have to say, he's much easier to be around when he's with her than without her."

My triumphant look met my boyfriend's playfully innocent eyes.

"I guess I know Beth pretty well, too. As well as being friends, we work together at William Rast. As an employee she is dedicated, intelligent, diligent, always ready for a challenge. Which is really a good thing, because Justin, is definitely a challenge. She's a great mom, and nobody can doubt that she really stepped up this year when Justin got sick. Forgive me for ruining the mood or whatever, but stuff has been hard lately, and I think the fact that Justin is in remission deserves a toast."

I raised my glass high along with everyone else. My usually arrogant husband even blushed a little as choruses of 'To Justin' echoed around the room.

Trace cleared his throat with a smile, "So we're agreed that Beth is a pretty great lady, but she's also lucky to have somebody who loves her like Justin does. At the risk of sounding a little gay, Justin is my best friend for a reason. I don't hang out with assholes. So I guess what I'm trying to say, is that Justin is a really good guy. So uh…go easy on him, Beth. Everyone, please raise your glasses, to Mr and Mrs Justin Timberlake."

The toast was followed by a ripple of applause from our small gathering. "Good job," I told Trace as he hugged both me and Justin. Lynn had suggested that my mother fill the gap left for my father's speech, but as well as not wishing to put that kind of last-minute pressure on her, I felt that Trace's words were enough. I didn't envy Justin's job of following Trace's speech with one of his own, but he kept it short and to the point, mostly thank-yous and a summery of what was to happen that evening with regards the after-party.

The day of October 31st worked for us in several ways. Not only was it a day convenient for us and our families, the Halloween holiday was the perfect cover for our post-wedding party. Those guests who hadn't attended the actual ceremony had been invited to a fancy dress party that would benefit several cancer charities and oncology treatment units, unaware that they were simultaneously celebrating our wedding. Also, costume parties were always fun. The gag was supposed to be that Justin and I were dressed as a bride and groom, but when the double doors opened into the party with the announcement of Mr. And Mrs Justin Timberlake, I don't think anybody was really registering the joke so much as the fact that we were actually married.

"Woah," Justin panted when somebody handed him a microphone and we were finally given enough space to breathe. We were in a mob of people, a mass of cartoon characters, movie stars, mythical creatures and inanimate objects pulling Justin in for hugs and kissing my cheeks. "For those of you who are a little slow, this is more than just a charity benefit, or a Halloween party, or an excuse to get drunk at an open bar." There was some cheering and whistling, I clung tighter to him, and he slid his hand further around my waist to clutch my hip in response, "As of today, this," He raised my left hand, "Is officially, and legally, Mrs. Timberlake."

Had the crowd not been intimidating enough before, I was actually kind of terrified as they closed in around us, Justin laughing loudly in my ear. I wasn't completely sure who everybody was, even without the costumes I may have struggled with names, but I could pick out the people who really mattered. I'll admit that the minority of the people at the party were my guests. I could put that fact down to the location, but the truth is that my list was considerably shorter than my husband's.

"I knew it!" Erika as Marilyn Monroe squealed, her arms around my neck, "I told Mark, I told him it was completely random for you to invite us to some Halloween party in Hicksville. I knew this had to be it! Ooo, congratulations!"

"How do you pull some shit like this on me?" Timbaland - who apparently came as himself - pushed at Justin's shoulders, both men almost giggling with amusement.

"Well, you got a big mouth, man, I might as well have gone to E! News myself as tell you anything."

"I'm so happy for you both," My mother grabbed both of us for what can only be described as a group hug, "Welcome to the family, Justin."

I grimaced at him as she moved on to talk to Logan, who had earlier changed into his Spiderman costume while I pinned up my hair and attempted to powder away some of the shine on my face, "Welcome to the nuthouse."

"Technically," He kissed me, "I'm stealing you out of her family and putting you into mine."

"Seems like she's okay with that," I mused, sliding my hands up his chest to link them behind his neck, "Actually I think she'd happily trade me for Logan."

He looked over my shoulder to where it appeared my mom was trying to coerce Spiderman into dancing with her. Justin's responding chuckle was interrupted by a break in the music and the MC's request for people to clear the floor for our first dance, to Ray Lamontagne's 'Shelter'. That choice had not been an easy one, Justin was adamant on dancing to what he called a 'classic'; Stevie Wonder, Al Green, maybe the Beatles. And while I wasn't completely opposed to those artists, none of their songs fit us like Ray's did. I remember buying the Trouble album in October 2004 on the way home from a doctor's appointment, shortly after I moved in with Justin. It was one of few he let me play in the house or the car, and will always be one of those CDs that reminds me of a certain time in my life. I have subsequently played it to death. Also, at the risk of over-sharing: we'd had a lot of sex to that album. What I didn't know was that Justin had asked Ray himself to sing it for us. I didn't actually register what was going on until he started to play, he had taken his seat at the front of the stage so quietly.

"Congratulations, Justin and Beth," He mumbled into the microphone, acoustic guitar propped in his lap, "This song is called Shelter."

My face flushed with the realisation that people were watching us and expecting us to dance. Justin turned me to face him, "We've been married for like, three hours and you're already ignoring me."

"He sounds amazing," I replied, my head sideways on Justin's chest, "I love this song."

"Sounds good," He kissed the tips of my fingers, clutching our joined hands between our chests, his free hand resting on my back.

"That was pretty smooth," I commented quietly, "Getting the real Ray Lamontagne to sing for us."

"I am nothing if not smooth," He consented, head dipped with a grin, "Still nervous?"

"Never was," I replied nonchalantly, resting my chin on his shoulder to get a good look around the room. With the lights down, the decorations we had approved actually looked a lot cooler than I thought they would. Pumpkins lined the floor; a little weird for a wedding but a nice touch, we guessed. Cobwebs strewn with diamantes covered the ceiling and some of the walls, while serving staff dressed in black and white carried what I knew to be trays of Halloween themed entrees - witches' toes and cat's eyes. Nice, right? "I'm just not so keen on being centre of attention. That's more your thing," I added with a smile, leaning back to look him in the eye.

I might have been lying a little. I wasn't nervous about the actual act of marrying or at the thought of being married to Justin, but the stares of strangers and the pressure of concentrating on not making a display of my idiocy for Justin's innately cool friends was enough to make me queasy.

"Funny," He scowled, pulling me closer, "For what it's worth, the dress is really workin' for you."

As shallow as it sounds, the dress - my 'something new' - was probably my favourite part of the whole thing. I mean, besides being married to Justin, of course. Oscar de la Renta designed a white illusion neckline gown with a full tulle skirt and embroidered bodice. The satin sash around my waist was the same midnight blue as the crystal detailing that overlaid the upper half of the dress and the thin layer of tulle that covered my chest and shoulders. I felt amazing.

"You don't look so bad yourself." His hair had grown back soft and feathery, dull blonde tufts starting to curl around his ears. The colour was coming back into his skin, a few days on the golf course with Paul had bronzed across his nose and cheeks, eyelashes fuller and healthier than ever.

I had almost forgotten where we were until I heard cheering when I kissed him. Ray followed 'Shelter' with a gorgeous version of Bob Dylan's 'To Make You Feel My Love', before making way for the band. Justin had vetoed any of my choices in favour of a blues act. I guess it was kind of cool, we were in Memphis after all and the dance floor was pretty full by the time the DJ started playing some more recent stuff. That is, until Timbaland took over with an impromptu set. I let Justin have his fun, dicking around on the microphone with his friends while I helped Lynn take Logan up to her hotel room. Apparently Justin's wish to have crazy wedding night sex outweighed the embarrassment he felt in asking his parents if our son could stay with them. It worked out pretty well since Lynn and Logan both fell asleep in the corner of the room around the same time.

With the baby out of the party I was without my crutch, and found myself heading to the bar in search of something to occupy my mouth so that if I did have to talk to people, I would be a little lubricated. I'm not sure exactly when I became so socially inept; there was a short time when I thoroughly enjoyed being the life of the party, but gradually I came to dread big social gatherings like this one, they made me itchy.

My own family, I could handle. I hadn't seen Rhona in a while, and since Brandon was kind of monosyllabic, she talked enough for both of them. Uncle Tom's daughters also liked to talk about themselves, which was just fine by me. Their father was a lot like my own; similar sense of humour, pretty relaxed about most things, a detached, cards-close-to-the-chest kind of guy. He also liked to drink, which was also fine by me. It was the other guests who I couldn't, or didn't want to, deal with.

A shot of tequila and three quick glasses of wine later, I let Justin remove my garter. Initially, mostly out of respect for my father's feelings - when I believed he would be attending - and my own shame, I had promised he could take it off later while we were alone. He had lobbied for the public display, but the garter thing has always been one of those traditions that made me cringe. Something about having Justin's mouth at my thigh in public didn't excite me the same way it did him. But since Dan bailed and people were pretty drunk anyways, I pulled Justin into a corner and let him crouch to pull it off me with his teeth. A handful of people saw, nobody really cared besides Justin, who did the whole thing a little slower than was really necessary. He got a little kick out of it, that was all I wanted.

Come five am, numbers were starting to dwindle. Justin was nursing a jack and coke in his hand and my aching feet in his lap. The dance floor was almost empty, most people had taken to the bar or the outlying tables, eating and talking in groups. The hotel had fed us all breakfast at four thirty, welcome sustenance after hours of socialising. Usually I counted on Justin to do the talking, but it seemed now that I too bore the Timberlake name, people actually wanted to hear what I had to say. Eventually I was repeating myself, regurgitating the same lines about marriage and the party to anyone who asked. I didn't feel like such a phoney knowing all too well that this was precisely how Justin operated in social gatherings; perfect the one-liner, avoid saying too much or wasting unnecessary energy on people who would never know any better. He was also correct in saying that the after-wedding party was more for our friends than for us. We hadn't even really had the chance to dance or enjoy each other's company until we had finally spoken to everyone and could finally relax with our inner circle.

I believe Trace was regaling us with tales from the internet. His latest kick was pregnancy and birth, being that his wife was five months pregnant and positively glowing, happily sipping water, her arm intertwined with Trace's. While Poppa Trace was a surreal guy to imagine, I was beyond excited for them, if not solely for the excuse to talk babies with somebody who cared. Maybe she was just being polite but it felt like Elisha actually valued my opinion on stuff, seeking my assistance on such issues as Lamaze classes and other pre-natal care.

"Now you're married, maybe you'll finally have another kid," Trace observed, grabbing a peanut butter cup from the huge bowl of goodies in the centre of the table.

"Let's get the wedding over with first," I shifted to put my feet on the floor so that I too could reach for some candy before resting back against Justin's chest as his arms went around me. Indescribable is the taste of a fun-size Snickers after months of not eating anything remotely delicious.

"I'm never getting married," Rachael, stunning in her midnight blue bridesmaid's dress, slid an elbow onto the table and rested her cheek on her palm.

"Sure you are," Trace assured, leaning back and sliding an arm behind where his wife's head rested on the back of the seat, "You can have one of those civil partnership things."

"Oh ha ha, Trace," My 'something blue' deadpanned, "I'm gay. Hilarious."

"She's just waiting on a guy who's worthy of her," I insisted, stifling a yawn, "They are few."

"64% of people who marry this year will get divorced," Ryan informed us, leaning casually backwards in his seat, "It's true. I'm just saying. And I'm a really good divorce attorney, so I got you covered, B."

"No thank you," I mumbled into my wine glass, smiling in response to the kiss that hit my ear.

"Like Justin doesn't have an air-tight pre-nup," JC threw his head back with a laugh. I still wasn't crazy about any of the *NSYNC guys, but they had been nothing less than charming throughout the party. Chris, Lance and Joey had disappeared a few hours earlier, but JC and his brother hung around 'til the end. Maybe I was paranoid, but JC and Tyler were definitely the odd pair out amid the other friends who surrounded us.

I actually chuckled in surprise that he would have the balls to say something like that in front of me, "Like you even know anything about him," I muttered. Of course we had a pre-nuptial agreement. You don't marry a millionaire without signing one of those, even I knew that, and I wasn't offended. It was actually a refreshing change to discuss what would happen in the unlikely event that we would divorce rather than what would happen in the more likely event that Justin died from a terminal illness.

A warning hand squeezed my wrist and Justin's posture straightened as he changed the subject, "Who wants another drink?"

The rest of our friends were awkwardly silent but I remained stubbornly vindicated. It was a pretty nosy question, after all.

Justin carefully shifted me out of his way and stood, extending a hand to me. He didn't have to say anything, I knew what was coming.

He took requests as I pulled my shoes back on. "That was rude," He mumbled, his arm around my waist as he pulled me across the dance floor.

"He is pretty rude," I agreed, "Why is he hanging around, anyways?"

"I didn't mean JC," He specified, placing an order with the bartender before turning back to me, "You were rude back there, he was kidding."

"Whatever," I muttered, leaning against the bar in an attempt to take the weight off my aching feet, "It wasn't funny."

"When did you get so drunk?" He was only half-teasing me.

"When it was my wedding day and I wanted to celebrate," I told him haughtily, "Is that okay with you, boss?"

"You did promise to love, honour and obey me," He mused, hands in his pockets, braced sideways against the bar.

"I did not!" My indignation had him giggling, which only made me angrier, "I promised to love you until you die, which might be tonight if you don't quit being an a-hole."

"A-hole," He mocked, advancing towards me, "Comin' at me with the hard insults, huh?"

My palms hit his chest as his hands went to my waist, "I don't want to talk to people any more," I tugged gently on his loosely-done tie, "Let's go to bed."

He smiled wickedly at me, his gaze flitting from my eyes to the drinks that had appeared beside him on the bar.

"I'm insulted you're even contemplating this," I shoved him gently, suppressing a laugh.

Reaching for the glass that held his whiskey, he swallowed about half of it before setting it back on the bar with a crack. "Should we tell them we're leaving?"

A snort escaped me, "No. Come on."

"What time is it?" He said through a yawn, following me as I tried to be as discreet as possible about leaving the room.

"Time you learned to do what I tell you to."

Lynn's gold watch, an antique which covered both the old and borrowed parts of the tradition, read five forty-five, which was long after we should have been upstairs consummating our marriage.

A quick word in the ear of Vince - our personal security - and we were in the elevator. Since I had left our hotel suite earlier that evening having taken some time out to freshen up, we had obviously been visited by somebody eager to set the mood for us. Two glasses sat beside a cooler that held a bottle of wine and what was now tepid water. After removing my shoes, I filled each glass, handing one to my husband when he had rid himself of his shirt and tie, leaving him in just slacks and a wife beater. Suddenly my true reasons for marrying him were clear.

The clink of our glasses broke the silence in the luxurious hotel suite, both of us sipping quietly. It was only a few seconds before he took the wine from me, setting both glasses on the table behind us. He cocked his head backwards towards the door to the bedroom, with what can only be described as a wicked grin spreading on his face. I shook my head in mock disgust as his hands clenched my waist, easing me along with him, fingers moving to search the seams at the sides of my body, "How do I get you out of this dress?"

"Carefully!" I stressed, stumbling along on my tip toes in an attempt to avoid tripping on my skirt, suppressing a giggle at the maniacal way in which he kept glancing backwards, backing into the bedroom. His back hit the door, fingers grasping for the handle as I elongated myself, searching for his lips. The distraction delayed him for a few seconds, eyes sliding closed as he pushed stubbornly at the door. In the bedroom part of the suite, the lights had been dimmed and unlit candles placed around the room, and a heart that had not been there previously, was outlined in rose petals on the bed.

Justin found the zipper at the back of my bodice first, stalling in confusion when the dress remained around my body. I turned around, reaching up and behind my head to fumble for the tiny button that held the illusion neckline in place. He 'oh'-ed in understanding, helping me shrug out of the sleeves, the bodice gaping around my waist, affording me enough space to step out of the skirt. I had spent almost as much time picking a wedding dress as I had picking what to wear underneath it. I looked everywhere, finally finding what I wanted in Victoria's Secret, of all places. The bridal bustier and lace hip-huggers were of similar material to my dress, the satin trim the same navy blue as my sash, not that Justin probably noticed the co-ordination, but I felt good in them.

It was when I stepped out of his grasp to hang up my dress that I noticed the narrow box that sat atop the dresser. Stuck neatly to the gold and cream wrapping paper was a white envelope inscribed with our names. Justin was behind me as I picked it up, warm hands finding the sides of my thighs, wet lips trailing along my shoulder as I tore the envelope off the box, withdrawing a thick card.

"Congratulations, Justin and Beth," I read aloud, "We are so proud of you both today and want you to know that we love you very much. You deserve a honeymoon as special as you are, so we're sending you two away for a while. We'll have a nice vacation in Los Angeles, taking Logan to school and spoiling him as much as we like! Enclosed is everything you'll need. We love you. Mom and Dad."

"Hmmm?" Was all Justin could say, staying curled around me as I walked us both towards the bed. Releasing myself from his grasp, I carefully unwrapped the box, opened one end and tipped its contents out on the top of the covers.

"You're mom is crazy!" I lifted our passports from amidst some other pieces of paper.

"Plane tickets…" He turned them over in his hands, "Hawaii? Nice!"

"Travel itinerary," I muttered, reading the exact details of our pick-up and drop-off times. Lynn had thought of everything.

"Contact numbers," Justin read, "Every doctor and health professional ever."

"The woman's a genius," I swiped the paper from his hands, reading over the details. I couldn't help but be touched at the thought Justin's parents had put into arranging this gift for us, Lynn seemed to pre-empt everything, including the worries I had about Justin's health.

"Did she put band aids in there? For the huge paper cut you just gave me?" He shoved his hand in my face. I couldn't see anything.

"Don't be a baby," I ignored him, lifting our travel insurance documents from beneath other random pieces of paper, "This is awesome. I can't believe your parents did this for us."

"Maybe they knew you wouldn't let me organise anything."

"I don't know that you could have pulled this off the way Lynn has."

He huffed audibly but relented, "She cares a lot about both of us."

I suppressed a smirk, "Or she wants Logan to herself for a week."

He cocked an eyebrow at me, perhaps irritated at my change in tone, "It'll be good for us, a week alone," I felt a hand skim down my arm to find my hand, "We were a couple before we were Logan's parents, and when he's grown up with his own life and stuff going on, we'll still be a couple. We shouldn't forget that."

I nodded, leaning into his side, my eyes sliding closed as I let the sentiment of his words wash over me. I may have walked down the aisle by myself, but I would never be alone again.

^^ I resent the bold pinkness of that 'Finally'. It seems to imply a [camp] exasperation incongruous with the length of time it took for them to marry.

Thanks for the feedback, ladies!