Page 83 of Love in the Lab
“I think everyone in New Orleans saw that,” Olivia says dryly.
Molly’s dad glares at me in a way that makes every “dad with a shotgun” cliché I’ve ever heard feel very accurate. My urge to smile disappears. Adam shoots me a sympathetic look but snaps his eyes forward again before Mr. Delaney can see.I get it, man. Save yourself. No reason to get dragged down with me.
Molly continues her story, ending with a description of our presentation, her job offer, and finally our sweet, elegant wedding ceremony.
As she does, my mind wanders back to Friday evening, also known as the best day of my life.
After Molly said “yes” that afternoon, the rest of the day moved quickly. We shopped for rings and a wedding dress. We changed our airline tickets so we could enjoy a short honeymoon in Las Vegas and then fly directly to Texas for Thanksgiving on Wednesday instead of going home to New Orleans first. We booked a room—just one!—at a hotel a little farther down the Strip for our extra four nights. Molly called the cat hotel back in New Orleans to extend Beaker’s stay with them.
From the way movies and TV shows make it look, you’d think you can just walk into any of the numerous wedding chapels in Las Vegas, and they take care of everything. Not so.
We first had to go to the Clark County Marriage License Bureau—which is open until midnight seven days a week, by the way—fill out an application, show our IDs, and pay the fee.
Quite a few steps, requiring quite a bit of mental energy. How Ross and Rachel did all that while drunk out of their minds is something I really don’t understand. I asked the clerk at the marriage license bureau about the whole pop culture, drunk Vegas wedding thing, and they said it’s played up for dramatic effect. They won’t even issue a marriage license if either person appears visibly intoxicated.
It’s the long hours the marriage license bureau is open and the fact that there’s no required waiting period between gettingthe license and the actual ceremony that makes Las Vegas a destination for elopements.
We weren’t in any rush, though, so after getting the license, we went to dinner. After dinner, it was back to the hotel to figure out which wedding chapel to use. Molly’s requirements were “not tacky and not expensive.” My only requirement was Molly as the bride. We ended up asking the hotel concierge for a recommendation. He suggested a newer place up the Strip differentiating itself as elegant and reasonably priced, and open to walk-ins.
I must have asked Molly if she was sure at least twenty times that evening. Standing in front of the marriage license bureau: “Are you sure this is what you want?” At dinner as we made plans for the wedding: “Are you sure?” Getting in the rideshare to drive to the chapel: “It’s not too late to change your mind.”
Finally, she smoothed the back of her hand over my cheek. “Are you the one who wants to change your mind?” she asked, her eyes tender, maybe a little apprehensive.
She had to know how much I love her. “I’m 100 percent in, Molly. Forever and always. I just don’t want you to regret this tomorrow.”
She smiled and took my hand, blinking back tears. “In thirty years when we come back to Las Vegas to celebrate our anniversary, Istillwon’t regret marrying you.”
I grinned as the car pulled up outside the chapel. “In that case, let’s go check another thing off the bucket list.”
High-pitched coos shake me from my memories. Molly is showing her family pictures on her phone, and apparently her mom and sisters love her dress.
Mr. Delaney watches quietly as his wife and daughters squeal at the photos. Finally, his soft voice breaks through the chaos. “My first daughter to get married,” he says, his eyes drooping as he focuses on Molly’s face. “I wish I could have been there.”
Molly instantly moves to sit next to him. “Daddy,” she fusses, throwing her arms around his neck. “I’m so sorry you feel left out. Our decision to elope was just something we needed to do. Besides, you know I would have hated any kind of big wedding where I’d have to be the center of attention.”
Mr. Delaney—who hasnotyet invited me to call him by his first name—sniffs as he returns his daughter’s embrace. “I know. I’m sorry. I don’t mean to make this about me.” He pulls away and smiles at Molly. “It’s just one of those things girl dads look forward to.”
“Oh, Ben!” Mrs. Delaney hugs his other side and presses a kiss against his cheek. “Don’t worry. We still have two more.”
Molly and her dad laugh as Nicole’s eyes go wide—she’s doing her very best not to look at her boyfriend—and Olivia nearly chokes.
I decide to curry favor with my new sisters-in-law, while potentially further damaging my chances with my new father-in-law, by taking the pressure off them. I join the group hug, flinging my arms around Molly and her parents.
Molly’s mom laughs, her cheeks turning red as she swats me away. Mr. Delaney glares at me, the arrangement of his face so familiar that I grin. I can see that Molly came by her angry stares honestly.
“Welcome to the family, Jonathan,” Molly’s mom says, patting my cheek.
“Thank you, Mrs. Delaney.” I turn on my most charming smile. In my peripheral vision, I see Molly roll her eyes.
“It’s Amy,” she corrects. She turns to her husband.
“I’m still deciding,” he grumbles.
“I totally understand, sir.” I can win him over. I’ve got time. From all Molly’s told me about her dad, he’s a teddy bear who only wants his daughters to be happy. It won’t take him long tosee that she’s happier than ever, though that’s mostly her own doing, not mine. I probably deserve a little credit, though.
The relationship between a father and a daughter is special. I see it firsthand with my dad and Tamara all the time. But father-son relationships are also important, and I know Molly and I need to tell my family about our marriage soon, too.
Molly and I step into the gorgeous, tree-covered backyard that extends into a forest beyond and settle onto the patio love seat to call my family. Even though the holiday isn’t until tomorrow, I know Tamara will be at my dad’s house tonight helping with the prep.
