"You have the most amazing skin," a makeup artist named Patricia, who had a bunch of tattoos and smelled overwhelmingly of Head & Shoulders shampoo, said to Aria as she dusted some powder on her cheeks. "I hardly have to use anything on you at all."
"Be sure to make my eyes smoky and dramatic, though," Aria reminded her. "I want to look awesome for photos."
"You got it." Patricia rummaged around in her case. "So you're getting married, huh?"
"That's right," Aria answered, puckering her lips for some gloss.
"Are you excited?"
"Definitely." She shook her shoulders, feeling a little shiver.
It was the following afternoon, and Hallbjorn had surprised Aria yet again by booking her an in-room massage—with eco-friendly oils, of course—a visit from Patricia the makeup artist, and a professional blowout by Lars, who wore the tightest pants Aria had ever seen. The hotel room had been transformed into a salon, with Adele playing in the background, cucumber sandwiches and a pitcher of mimosas on the tray in the corner, tons of gossip magazines stacked on the bed, and the smell of massage oils lingering in the air. Hallbjorn had disappeared as soon as Patricia and Lars had come through the door, saying he'd wait to see Aria's transformation when it was finished. Aria had taken a shot of him with her digital camera just as he left the room. She was trying to document everything today, from Patricia's messy makeup bag to the seven earrings snaking up Lar's ears, not wanting to forget a single detail.
"You're going to be such a cute bride," Patricia murmured now. "What are you, twenty-one? Twenty-two?"
Aria nodded noncommittally, not wanting to say she was only seventeen. Her age was kind of an issue—when the porter had delivered the marriage license paperwork this morning. Aria indeed needed a parent's signature to allow the state of New Jersey to marry them. She's forged Ella's name and included her own cell phone number, figuring she'd pretend she was Ella if anyone from the courthouse called to check.
She glanced at her cell phone on the bureau, feeling a guilty twinge. She call Ella and tell her what she was about to do? Or maybe she should call one of her old friends. It felt weird going through with this without anyone knowing. But this was between her and Hallbjorn, and the last thing she needed was someone trying to talk her out of it.
Soon enough, Patricia had completed Aria's makeup and Lars had blown out Aria's locks to perfection. She shut herself in the bathroom, slid the dress she'd found yesterday over her head, and stared in the mirror at the results. She'd fixed the rip at the neckline, and the dress fit perfectly at her waist and hips. With her straight hair and smoky eyes, she looked like a movie-star version of herself.
When she glided out of the bathroom and spread out her arms in a Ta-da! pose, Patricia whooped. "You look amazing."
"Stunning," Lars seconded, leaning coquettishly against the bureau. "You have your old, new, borrowed, and blue stuff, right?"
Aria looked at them blankly. Patricia and Lars both put their hands to their mouths. "Something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue?" Lars repeated. "You've never heard that? A bride wears each on her wedding day! It's good luck!"
Aria had heard it, but she'd just forgotten. She peered down at her dress. "Well, this is old," she volunteered. "But it's also new…to me."
"Here's something borrowed." Lars slid a leather bracelet off his wrist. It had spikes on it and said Badass. But it was just the right rock-star touch.
"And wait a minute…" Patricia darted into the hall and returned with a bunch of violets.
"Where'd you get those?" Lars placed his hand saucily onto one hip.
"The case by the elevator." Patricia put her finger to her lips. Then she tucked a sprig behind Aria's ear. "Perfect."
It was time to go, and they rushed her down to the lobby. Someone in a tuxedo waited by the revolving doors, his back to them. Aria didn't realize it was Hallbjorn until he turned around and smiled at her. "Wow," she gasped.
"I was just about to say the same about you," Hallbjorn answered, taking her hand.
They were silent for a moment, and then burst into giggles. This is really happening, Aria thought. I'm really getting married.
Aria threw on her coat, and Humpty, the porter from the day before, ushered them outside and showed them the bicycle built for two he'd rented. It had banana seats, streamers hanging from the handlebars, and no gear shifts in sight. "I could only find you a beach cruiser," he said sheepishly. "I hope that's okay."
"It's better than okay." The seat was covered in sand and the gears were a little rusty, but she couldn't imagine a better wedding transport.
The temperature was much warmer than the day before, and all of the snow had been plowed off the streets. Hallbjorn climbed onto the front part of the tandem bike and set off, giving the bell a little ring. It wasn't easy for Aria to pedal in heels, so she let her feet dangle for much of the ride. A few people waved as they passed, and a couple of horns honked. Aria thought she caught sight of someone lurking behind them, but when she looked over her shoulder, whoever it was had ducked around a corner…or maybe hadn't been there at all. She shook off her worries. Nothing was going to ruin her wedding day.
They reached the chapel, a small white building wedged between a pawnshop and tattoo parlor. It said Chapel Of Luv in red lettering over the door, and there were heartprinted curtains in the windows. Hallbjorn helped Aria off the bike, then gave her a long, meaningful look.
"You are so beautiful, Aria Montgomery," he said.
"So are you, Hallbjorn Gunterson," Aria said, her voice trembling a little.
He leaned in and kissed her.
They walked up the stairs together. The inside of the chapel was swathed in red draperies, tall white columns, and vases overflowing with red and white roses. A glittering chandelier hung from the ceiling, and a few rows of seats were positioned on either side of a red-carpeted aisle. The room smelled like a mix of perfume and flowers, and soft music played through the speakers. A door opened at the end of the chapel, and someone in an Elvis costume, complete with the spangled jacket and bell-button pants, the bouffant hair, and the aviator sunglasses, strutted out and smiled at them. "Hey there, lovebirds," he crooned in a perfect Elvis voice. "I'll be marrying you today."
Aria laughed. It was too perfect.
Elvis asked for the license paperwork, and Aria handed it over. He tucked it into his pocket without even looking at it. "Now, do you kids have witnesses?"
Aria looked at Hallbjorn. "Uh, no…"
"We'll be their witnesses," a voice came from the left. A tall, slender showgirl wearing a plume atop her head was sitting next to the spitting image of Cher.
Elvis returned to the front of the chapel and instructed Hallbjorn to join him. Cher jumped from her seat and ushered Aria into a little anteroom just off the aisle, which contained a couple of chairs and a full-length mirror. Aria stared at herself, taking in her vintage dress and the flowers ticked in her hair. Cher stood behind her, fixing her hair from the back.
"Thanks for being our witnesses," Aria whispered.
"Oh, I just love weddings, honey," Cher answered in a deep voice. Aria caught sight of her enormous hands in the mirror and smiled wryly. Of course Cher would be a dude in drag.
Canon in D played through the speakers. After a few beats, Cher offered Aria her arm. aria took it as though it were perfectly normal for a drag queen to be walking her down the aisle instead of Byron, her gaze anchored on Hallbjorn at the front of the chapel the whole time. There was a giddy smile on his face. His hands were clutched at his waist, and one of his feet tapped the ground.
She came to a stop next to Hallbjorn just as the music ended. Cher kissed her on the cheek, whispered, "Good luck," and then sat down next to the showgirl. Elvis faced the two of them, opened a large leather book with giltedged pages, and cleared his throat.
"We are gathered here today to unite Aria Marie Montgomery and Hallbjorn Fyodor Gunterson." He stumbled a little over Hallbjorn's name, and Aria nervously giggled.
Elvis continued with all of the typical marriage lines Aria had heard in countless movies and read in hundreds of books. He made them repeat how they would take each other for better or worse, through sickness and in health, in good times and in bad, as long as they both shall live. Aria's hands shook as Hallbjorn slid the snake ring on her finger. She reached for the plain gold band they'd bought for Hallbjorn at the same jewelry store and pushed it past his knuckle.
"I now pronounce you man and wife," she heard Elvis say, and then suddenly Hallbjorn was kissing her, and Cher and the showgirl were cheering. Aria's heart thrummed fast, all of this feeling like a dream. When she opened her eyes, confetti was falling from the ceiling. A band appeared front the back, quickly plugged their instruments into amps, and Elvis grabbed the microphone he'd spoken into marry them and began belting out "All Shook Up."
The chapel turned into a dance party. Hallbjorn swung Aria's hands back and forth. Cher grabbed Aria and gave her a little twirl. The showgirl shook her boobs and did some high kicks. A few elderly tourists in heavy wool coats wandered in, and Elvis invited them to join the celebration as well. Aria paused for a moment, drinking the whole thing in. It was all so…her, down to the stolen flowers behind her ear and the fact that Hallbjorn had forgotten to rent shoes with his tux and was still wearing his Icelandic climbing boots. A rush of happiness washed over her, and she broke into a wide, euphoric grin. She couldn't have imagined a more perfect wedding.