Page 112 of Husband of the Year
“You look beautiful,” Olan says as he lifts her up.
Her hair has been braided into a giant bun that rests on top of her head like a crown. Today, she’s truly her father’s princess.
“Thank you, Daddy.” She shifts her gaze to me. “Do you like it?”
“I love it. You always look beautiful, but I never imagined you’d look this perfect today.”
“We spent a lot of weekends searching for this dress.” Isabella joins us, the sound of her heels clacking against the sidewalk as she approaches. “But the minute Illona saw it, she knew.”
“And you look gorgeous,” I say. “As usual.”
“This old thing?” Isabella holds up the side of her baby blue pleated skirt. She’s wearing a simple white blouse, with sheer sleeves, and her hair is also up, giving her a regal appearance.
“Thank you,” Olan says, leaning over and kissing her cheek.
“My pleasure.” Isabella now gives me a soft peck, being careful not to leave lipstick on my face. “Plus, we had a blast.”
“We did,” Illona says as her dad sets her down. “One shop had little cakes, and they kept giving them to us. I ate so many I got a tummy ache, but it was totally worth it. What were they called again, Mommy?”
“Petit fours.”
“Yeah, those. And they were so yummy. You would love them, Marvin.”
“Maybe we’ll need to go back for another dress,” I say. “I mean, you can never have too many dresses.”
“My sweet loves his sweets.” Olan nudges his shoulder against mine.
“I’m here!” Jill Kim, wearing the most stunning traditional dress with a red floral motif on light pink fabric, skips toward us. I can’t help but be captivated by her beauty.
“You clean up nice.” I wrap my arms around her, holding her close. “This is next level.”
“It’s an áo dài—a traditional Vietnamese dress. I had Nick bring it to me after school and changed in the classroom.” She smooths her hands over the shiny fabric. “Only for you, Marvin.”
“Let’s go,” Isabella says, glancing at her watch. “The clerk is waiting.”
We walk toward my mother, who is standing near the stairs to theentryway of city hall, with Greggie nestled in her arms, and then we head inside.
Our shoes echo on the massive marble staircase in the old building’s entrance and when we reach the top, we walk to the door down the hallway with a sign that reads Marriage Licenses.
The room is simple. Sparse. There’s a long low counter, with a few desks behind it and various signs displaying fees and other information. Turns out, you can also take care of a parking ticket here or obtain a fishing license.
A kind, middle-aged woman stands from her desk and approaches the counter.
“Can I help you?”
“We have an appointment to be married.” Olan takes my hand and we take a step forward from our family.
“Of course, names?”
“Marvin Block and Olan Stone,” Illona says before either of us can speak. “Marvin was my kindergarten teacher. I’m in second grade now. But he and my dad fell in love and now they’re getting married. He’s going to be my stepdad now.”
The woman offers an amused look. Surely in her position she’s seen it all before, including enthusiastic children watching their parents tie the knot.
“How lovely. And what’s your name?”
“Illona Stone. This is my mom. That’s Sarah, Marvin’s mom, and Greggie, my baby cousin.”
“I’m Patti, the notary here, and I’ll be issuing your license and then marrying you.”
