Sure, he would have had to tear down a few buildings to do it, but those buildings didn’t matter, as they served simply to house a few faculty members, boring old professors who’d done nothing with their lives but teach and win Pulitzer and Nobel prizes. So who cares?
Now all those professors are writing scathing op-ed pieces about the president in the papers every Sunday.
President Allington has decided to start spending weekends in the Hamptons, where no one he knows reads the New York papers.
I spy Lisa and Cory a few rows ahead of Eva and Special Agent Lancaster. Lisa is so excited to see me, she waves excitedly, and I can’t help waving back, some of the butterflies beginning to disappear.
Dad’s right. These people are my friends. They do want what’s best for me, just as I want what’s best for them. Now that the excitement over the RAs has died down—the rest of them moved out without incident once Howard was arrested, and new ones, handpicked by Lisa, were hired to replace them—things at the office have settled into a smooth routine, with one exception: Lisa’s been bringing birthing videos to work from the hospital where she’s chosen to give birth, for us to watch during downtime.
They truly are disgusting. No horror film can compare. Lisa says she can’t understand why any hospital would give videos like this to expectant mothers. My retinas are forever scarred. We passed the videos on to Gavin, who is determined to find a way to work the scenes into his zombie film.
Gavin is sitting behind Lisa, not far from Pete (who can’t take his eyes off Magda), and I can see that he’s appointed himself our wedding videographer, to the annoyance of Cooper’s father, who’s paid for an official videographer, something we tried to stop, since I don’t want a video of our wedding being shown on Cartwright Television (they televise a sort of lame Where Are They Now? rip-off). Tania—oh, there’s Tania, looking so pretty in pink beside Jordan, uck, that jerk—warned me that the last thing I’d want is my nice wedding ruined by having footage of it broadcast on TV for everyone to see.
Cooper says not to worry, that he’s got “someone on it,” whatever that means. I suppose it means there’s going to be an “accidental” fire in the videographer’s studio, knowing the kind of “someone” Cooper is likely referring to.
Jamie, Gavin’s girlfriend, looks almost as annoyed as Mr. Cartwright, but only because Gavin is blocking her view of the proceedings. Patricia, Cooper’s mom, looks drunk, but it’s two o’clock on a Saturday afternoon, so that’s to be expected.
Only when Dad and I finally reach the end of the aisle, and I’m able to look into Cooper’s eyes, do the butterflies in my stomach vanish completely. His face is filled with pride, love, and admiration for me. He can barely contain his happy grin as he moves to offer his arm in place of my father’s.
“Take care of her,” Dad says to Cooper, patting my fingers.
“I’ll try,” Cooper says. “She’s pretty good at taking care of herself, though.”
“So I’ve noticed,” Dad says with a roll of his eyes, and shuffles off to his seat.
The officiant smiles kindly at us and tells our guests to sit down, and during all the shuffling, Cooper grins at me and says, “Nice dress.”
“I hope you like it.”
“It could be lower cut,” he says, looking down the demure lace front of the dress at my cleavage. “I can barely see anything.”
I roll my eyes, knowing he’s teasing. “You’ve seen it all a million times.”
“But I like seeing it all the time,” he says, wiggling his eyebrows lasciviously.
“This is the Plaza, show some class, you dirty dog.”
“Dearly beloved,” the officiant begins. “We are gathered here today . . .”
The ceremony passes in a blur. I stand in my unfamiliarly high heels, feeling like a jangly cluster of nerves and excitement, hardly knowing what I’m saying. I repeat the words the officiant tells me to repeat, unable to look away from Cooper’s face, the same way he’s unable to look from mine. We’re both smiling like idiots. It’s a very good thing we both vetoed the idea of exchanging our own vows. We’d never have remembered them. I can’t even remember what day it is.
As Patty comes up to take the bouquet from me when it’s time to exchange the rings, she whispers, “You’ve almost made it. Two more minutes. Hang in there.”
I can’t believe it. It seems like mere seconds later that I’ve slid a ring on Cooper’s finger and he’s sliding a ring on mine—only mine, unlike the simple white-gold bands we’d picked out for each other, is inlaid with diamonds.
“What . . . ?” I look up at him, stunned, but he’s repeating the words the officiant is feeding him. A sly smile has spread across his face, because he’s managed to outwit me. We’re supposed to be saving the money from the sale of my mom’s jewelry so that we can renovate the basement.
Although I suppose it’s all right that he’s spent a little of it on something frivolous that we don’t need. The diamond band certainly seems to go very nicely with my sapphire engagement ring.
“I, Cooper Arthur Cartwright,” Cooper is saying, in a voice that suddenly sounds a little choked with tears, “take you, Heather Marie Wells, to be to be my lawful wedded wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, from this day forward until death do us part.”
Is he crying? But Cooper never cries. Well, except during movies where animals die—
And then the officiant is pronouncing us husband and wife, and telling Cooper he can kiss me, and Cooper is dragging me somewhat urgently toward him and kissing me very emphatically on the lips.
My bright red lipstick is going to get all over him, I think, and as soon as he releases me, I see that it has.
But Cooper doesn’t care, he looks deliriously happy. Why does he look so happy?
And then it hits me. It’s over. Everyone is standing and clapping and cheering. Even Nicole is clapping, and crying, while laughing at the same time, and Nicole hates everything.
We’ve done it. Cooper and I have done it. And neither of us tripped, or was shot, or knocked unconscious, or choked, or cut with a knife.
It’s incredible. But it’s true.