#56 Give me the ring, baby
Warning: this is the last chapter of “Twisted Thomas”! There will be epilogues, of course, so the story isn’t TRULY done. And I am starting “Blooming Rose” soon, so stay tuned!
The wedding march plays through the ugly-ass chapel, and the fat Elvis impersonator claps his hands from where he’s standing to officiate the wedding. My parents look like they aren’t sure if this is for real, and my brother Charlie is laughing his ass off. Jolene smacks him on the back of his head and glares at him. My poor parents. Never in a million years did they think they would have to watch their oldest son get married in a chapel in Vegas, with a fat Elvis to officiate.
Tracy walks in on Peter’s arm. She told me she wasn’t going to do the whole white poofy wedding dress, but she wouldn’t tell me what she was going to wear. She’s in a tight red dress that shows off her flawless figure, and she’s got big golden earrings dangling from hair ears. Her hair is in an effortless high ponytail, and I get a flashback to pulling it when I fucked her from behind last night.
Damn, it really felt like we might have done it that time. I don’t think there’s a single sperm cell left in my entire body by the way we’ve been fucking since we got to Vegas. I pray to God that there will a be a little baby in her belly by the time we get back home.
Peter kisses Tracy on the cheek and he hands her to me with tears in his eyes.
“Hey handsome,” she says, her eyes raking over my body. Her bright smile tells me she likes that I’m in a tux, even though we said we weren’t going to do anything fancy. The tux is bright blue and has little red hearts all over it, so I don’t think it actually counts as fancy, but still. I know I look good, and Tracy seems to think so too.
“Welcome to the wedding of Tracy Packard and Thomas Riley,” the Elvis impersonator says, his voice hoarse from smoking. We’re getting married ten minutes later than we planned because he had to go out for one more cigarette before officiating. “They’ve got their own vows.”
“Right,” Tracy says, grabbing my hand. “Me first. I love you. I just really, really love you. You complete me, you get in ways I don’t even get myself, you tore down my walls, and we all know that’s really hard to do.”
“Amen,” Dylan yells from the back, and we both grin at him.
“I’m a piece of work,” Tracy goes on, her attention back on me. “Like, really fucking difficult to love, but you fell for me anyway, and I’m so grateful you did, because my life is completely different now than it was the day we met. You’re just plain amazing. You love animals, you’re ridiculously hot, and you’re amazing in bed.”
I cast a quick look at my mother, why has her hands in front of her face, scared to look at the train wreck that is our wedding. Even Aston’s vows weren’t this outrageous.
“Tracy…” I whisper, hoping she won’t get into just how amazing I am in bed. No need to tell my parents about our sexcapades, right?
She laughs, throwing her head back. The sound lights up the room. “Okay, back to safer topics,” she says, rolling her eyes. “We both know I’m really fucking lucky to have you, Thom. So go on and put that ring on my finger, because I’m so ready to be your wife.”
I pull the simple golden band out of my pocket – she didn’t even want a diamond or anything, just as simple band like the one I picked out for myself – and slip it onto her finger. She looks down at it, tearing up.
“Okay, you talk,” she says, wiping at her eyes. “Fuck, my make-up. This is why I never bother with eyeliner.” She glares at Delilah, who rolls her eyes at her friend.
“Tracy,” I start, looking into those deep green eyes. “Sweet, beautiful, certifiable crazy, smart, strong Tracy. You are the woman no man ever wants to fall for, because you’re right, you’re not the easiest person ever, but damn, you’re worth all the trouble. You are the woman every man should have in his life, but all the others will just have to settle for lesser woman, because you’re my wife now, and I am never letting you go. I love you so much. More and more every day. I can’t wait to carry you over the threshold of our beautiful barn, where we will start living soon. I want to raise kids with you, take care of the hundreds of animals you keep dragging in, and just love you every day of my life.”
She sniffles, and I pull her in for a kiss, not giving a fuck about protocol. She grabs my hair and tugs at it while we kiss, and then we both remember that our friends and family are watching, so we break apart, both grinning.
“Give me the ring, baby,” I say, holding out my hand.
She reaches into her bra – you gotta love the girl – and pulls out my wedding band. “No pockets,” she says, shrugging. Then she puts it on me and lifts my hand to kiss it.
“I now pronounce you husband and wife. Go ahead and kiss again,” the fat Elvis says in his chain smoker voice.
We do, and I smile against her lips, so fucking happy that I feel like I’m flying.
We moved into the farmhouse today, the moving truck and all of our friends and family just left, and so far all Tracy has seen of the place is the bathroom. She’s throwing up. Again. I walk in with a wet towel, cleaning her face while she dry-heaves, and she just looks so sick that I’m a little scared she’s got some horrible disease. No need to panic though… it’s probably just the flu.
There is another possibility, of course, but I’m scared to hope for that. It’s so soon. We’ve only been trying for a few weeks. Surely she’s not already…?
“Go buy me a test,” Tracy tells me right before throwing up again. When she’s done, she wipes her mouth on the towel and winces. “Fucking hell, if this is what pregnancy feels like, I swear I’m only going to do this once. Why are you still here?” She gives me a shove. “Go get me a test!”
I call Dylan, because there is no way I am leaving her alone right now, and he’s the only one who knows we’re trying. He promises to be right over, and I go back to sitting on the bathroom floor with Tracy. By the time Dylan gets to our place, she’s done throwing up, but she still looks pretty sick. I really think it’s a stomach bug. Surely pregnancy doesn’t look this… disgusting?
“I hate you,” Dylan tells me when I open the door.
“Hello to you too.” I grab the bag out of his hand and laugh when I see he brought us twenty tests and three cupcakes with yellow and green frosting. He knows we don’t believe in the whole blue and pink thing for babies, and it’s so freaking cute that he remembered.
“Again, I hate you,” Dylan says when he sees the dopey grin on my face. “You get to have threesomes, find the woman of your dreams, you don’t even have to give up on the threesomes, then you marry the girl, knock her up… and you didn’t invite me!”
I roll my eyes. He’s been at this for a while now. “We invited you to the wedding.”
“Yeah, but that was lame. I wanted to be invited to the threesomes,” he grumbles, unpacking a box for me and handing me a test. It’s one of the fancy ones, that tells you how long you’ve been pregnant. He follows me straight into the bathroom and waves at Tracy while I pick her off the floor and give her the test.
“Could you leave?” I ask Dylan, giving him a glare.
“I don’t care if he sees me pee,” Tracy grunts, pulling down her pants already and sitting down on the toilet.
“Erm… okay… I’ll be right outside,” Dylan says, flushing bright red.
“He’s all talk and no game,” Tracy jokes, kicking the door close behind him before peeing on the stick. She doesn’t seem fazed that I’m still in here, even though we’re not normally a couple that is in the room when the other person pees. We’re okay with anal sex and threesomes, but we usually draw the line at bodily functions. Today, it doesn’t seem important, though.
I set the timer on my phone when she’s done, putting the test on the counter. We both wash our hands, and she brushes her teeth. She looks exhausted, all sweaty and still smelling like puke.
“This better be a bug,” she tells me, closing the lid of the toilet so she can sit down. “I swear, Thom, if it’s going to be like this for nine whole months, I’m going to make you suffer right along with me.”
“I’ve been suffering since we met, baby,” I joke, but her glare tells me she’s not in the mood right now. I get that. If I’d been puking my guts out for over an hour, I’d be in a mood too.
The timer goes off, and Dylan immediately yanks open the door, holding up the cupcakes. “So?” he asks, jumping out of his skin with excitement. “Am I going to be an uncle?”
Tracy and I both take a deep breath, and then I flip over the test, looking at the small window that says that…
“More than three weeks,” I tell her, feeling like I’m dreaming. “Which means…”
“Which means I probably got pregnant around the time we got married,” she says, and to my relief, she’s smiling now. She puts a hand over her belly and sighs. “I’m going to be a mother.”
I sink down onto my knees and put a hand over hers. I know that this is hard for her, because she’d love to share this moment with her family, but they can’t be here for her. I’m here, though, and I will be there every step of the way. She smiles through her tears, and I know that she gets what I’m trying to say without either of us needing words.
“Whoop whoop!” Dylan shouts, doing a weird little dance, holding the cupcakes over his head. “You’re going to have such a weird kid. Poor thing. Oh my God, I’m so happy!”
We laugh and Tracy gets up to hug me properly. We stay like that for a long time, both unable to believe I truly managed to knock her up this soon after we started trying. I might even have been that night with Jack – who knows? We need to get her a doctor’s appointment to make sure and to get an idea of the due date, of course, but I can’t reel my excitement in even if I wanted to.
I’m going to be a father. Me. Thomas Riley, who could never get the girl he wanted. Look at me now.
Yeah, okay, not really. There will be epilogues! Posting them soon (tomorrow, I think). And I will be starting the next story soon. It’ll be a short story (so way less chapters) and it will be called “Blooming Rose”. Stay tuned!