Page 52 of Summer with My Sexy Ex
wyatt
We racethrough the exit and over to the World’s Only Sci-Fi Wedding Chapel entrance.
“Do you have anyone getting married right now?” I ask.
The woman at the counter shakes her head.
“Anyone scheduled to get married in the next.” I look at my phone. “Ten minutes or so?”
She shakes her head again.
That means it’s time to enact my brilliantly inspired Plan B. “How long does it take to get married?” I ask.
“However long you want, in thirty-minute increments.”
“Can we do it in the next five to ten minutes?”
She shrugs. “Sure. But it’ll have to be with Fauxley Quinn. She’s the minister who’s up right now.”
I pay for a package that includes pictures and basic ring bands. The woman looks at our hands before grabbing two small boxes from under the counter and says, “Follow me.”
So, we do.
“Wait, what are we doing?” Brie asks.
“We’re winning, sweetheart.”
“Oh good.”
We get into the chapel where eerily realistic-looking characters are waiting: Chewmocka and Fauxley Quinn. I mean, I know both are real people in costumes, but Fauxley is just clothes and makeup, and she looks legit.
“Hi, Fauxley!” Brie gushes.
“Hey puddin’,” Fauxley says.
“I just love it when she says, puddin’.” Bristol looks at Fauxley in total adoration with a huge smile on her face. I hadn’t realized she was such a fan. This is working out great.
“Whenever you’re ready,” Fauxley says.
“Ready,” I confirm.
“Rrrruuuurrr,” Chewmocka adds.
Fauxley laughs. “Okay, we got some mad love bringing us together today—”
“We don’t need any of that other stuff. We need to finish with pictures in like,”—I check my watch—“under ten minutes. Can you get to the vow thing?”
“Wait, are we really getting married?” Bristol asks.
“Hey lady, you need me to sneak you out of here, say the word. We don’t need no stinkin’ boys,” Fauxley faux whispers behind her hand to Bristol. I narrow my eyes at her, and Fauxley winks at me in return.
“We are,” I say to Bristol. But more importantly, we’re winning.”
“By getting married?” she asks.
“Is that a problem?”
“I think so. I’m not sure we’re the marrying kind.”
