Chapter Text
Everyone told Elle to wait for third year, and it doesn’t take long for her to see why.
The intense rote memorization of early semesters has continued to give way to classes she’s chosen, more within the realm of what she hopes to be doing. She continues at Sawyer & Feldman a couple days a week once the summer ends; they’ve made it abundantly clear there’s a future there for her if she wants it. She’s able to balance everything more easily, including a series of engagement parties and bridal showers that seem to pop up out of nowhere. Everyone in both their circles is apparently coming to the same conclusion simultaneously, and their fridge is plastered in save-the-dates.
(Their friends are scattered all over the place, so there’s no way they’re getting to every single wedding.
She’s holding out for Tracy’s, though – because after two consecutive Boston winters, a trip to Cabo in January sounds like a dream come true.)
Her parents call one Wednesday in October; it’s her free study day during the week, so she’s at home amidst a veritable explosion of books. The wheels start to come off the conversation around five minutes in, when they ask about her future concentration. Her father doesn’t even try to hide his dismay when she tells the two of them about her plan to specialize in civil rights litigation; presumably because it’s not as lucrative as corporate or something. Before she can retort that she’s looking for fulfillment beyond being absurdly wealthy, her mother chimes in. “It’s not a problem, Harrison. After all, Emmett does very well, doesn’t he?”
Elle blows out a breath. “Mom, I’m not going to need to live off my boyfriend.”
“Well, perhaps if you hadn’t already moved in with him, it wouldn’t seem-“
Here we go again. “What is it that actually concerns you, that I won’t be able to support myself or that I won’t have a husband to do it for me?”
There’s a beat or two of silence before Caroline answers, “Both, I suppose.”
“We’re very happy,” Elle says through gritted teeth. “And everything is going to be fine.”
“But it’s important that he-”
Elle tunes out the rest of the conversation and when she finally hangs up, flings the phone to the other side of the couch. Burying herself in reading and research is sufficiently distracting until Emmett gets home that evening, groceries slung over one shoulder.
“Hey.” She smiles, standing up to take the bag from him so he can divest himself of jacket and shoes. “How was your day? What’s this?”
“Not bad, just stopped for a couple things we needed.” He kisses her as they head for the kitchen. “You?”
“Got a lot done, so that’s good. Was Tim any better today?”
Emmett laughs, shaking his head. “Compared to last week? Marginally, maybe. Compared to Natalie? Never.”
“She’s not back from parental leave until after Thanksgiving, right?” Elle asks, beginning to unpack the bag.
“Yeah. I mean, Tim’s really not awful to work with in general, he’s just green. So he gets flustered way too easily in court, and at mediation, and during depositions... But at least he’s good with paperwork?”
Elle cringes. “Good thing Natalie isn’t the one who carried. Samantha said she’s taking six months off work to be with the baby.”
“Not that I’d ever begrudge someone their bonding time, but if that had been the case with Nat, I’d probably be hibernating under my desk right now. They were out of the bread we usually get, is that one okay?”
“Yeah, it’s fine.” Elle spots something else, pulling out a package of chocolate-covered pretzels. “Ooh, not mad at these either.”
He shrugs with a grin. “I had a feeling you wouldn’t be.”
“Thank you.” She kisses his cheek. “Today I got to listen to my mother imply yet again that I’m ruining my life, so this is definitely a welcome surprise.”
“What egregious offense did you commit this time?” He laughs. “You didn’t buy another pair of glitter socks, right?”
“Okay, that was almost two months ago, and it didn’t look like the kind of glitter that falls off.” She sits down at the table, opening the foil pouch in her hands and popping a pretzel in her mouth.
Emmett sits down next to her, and she wordlessly tips the pretzels in his direction. He smirks. “Tell that to the living room rug.”
She rolls her eyes even though she can’t help but smile. “No, glitter didn’t ruin my life, according to my mother. At least not today. Moving in with you did.”
“Really.” His eyes widen briefly in amusement. “Kind of hoping you don’t share that opinion, it might make things a little awkward around here.”
“Not specifically anything to do with you as a person,” she clarifies. “It’s that we’re… well, she didn’t actually use the term ‘living in sin’, but there were references to a cow and free milk that I’m not really interested in repeating.”
“Oh.” He looks thoughtful. “So she’s working herself up into a frenzy thinking… well, actually, I don’t know that I can follow exactly what.”
“If I moved in with you without what she feels is a commitment, how will we ever get married so I can be totally dependent on you?” Elle shakes her head. “Seriously, the horror.”
“I would argue that signing a lease together means that, at least for the next seventeen months, we are in fact already legally bound to one another,” he says, a wry grin beginning to bloom. “Which is a contract akin to marriage, is it not?”
“Yeah, good luck getting Caroline Woods to buy into that one.” She tosses a pretzel at him, which he easily catches.
“Okay. Then I guess we should get married.”
She’s convinced she heard wrong, but her heart momentarily grinding to a halt before resuming at twice its regular speed tells her otherwise. “Wait, what?”
“You know,” he says nonchalantly. “We’ve talked about it before, might as well if it’ll get her off your back. I think you can make City Hall appointments online now.”
She stares at him as he looks at her expectantly, and the moment seems to go on for eons until he cracks up. “Sorry, but as appealing as it is to think of your mother being stunned into silence, that’s not really how I want to do it.”
She joins him in laughter. “Unlike her, I’m in no rush. But so you know… when we are, you know, actually there… you’re going to have to do a lot better than that.”
“What are you talking about?” he protests innocently. “Was that not the picture of romance?”
She raises an eyebrow. “When we do this, it is not going to be a business transaction.”
“You’ve decided as much, huh?”
“Yes,” she says, a sly smile crossing her face. “I have.”
(And she’s just realized exactly how she’ll be able to enforce that decision.
But that’s a project for her future self.)
***
Cassie gets married the first weekend of November; it’s pretty low-key, and a welcome distraction from the research paper that Elle swears gets worse with each revision. Emmett tells her she’ll come back to it with fresh eyes after a night away, and she concedes he’s probably right. The outdoor ceremony capitalizes on the foliage, and Cassie spots them at the reception as she and Peter are making the rounds.
“Thanks for coming, guys.” She turns from Elle to Emmett with a satisfied grin. “Also: I told you so.”
He laughs. “You sure did. Just like you’ve pointed out every time you’ve seen me for the past… what, year and a half?”
“I get it. It’s hard to accept you were slow on the uptake for once in your life.” Cassie glances at Elle. “Hope you don’t mind that I’m never going to let this go.”
Elle smiles. “You know it’s not like I was-“
“Any less in denial? Yeah, but mocking him is so much more fun.”
Emmett chuckles. “I can’t say I wasn’t warned. Congratulations.”
As they walk away, Emmett turns back to Elle, wrapping an arm around her waist. “She might never let that go, but, ah… I’m never letting you go. So I think I come out on top here.”
She beams. “That was mushy.”
“You loved it.”
“I really did.”
When they get home, fresh eyes really do help make sense of her paper. A few weeks later, she heads into finals feeling confident. Vivienne comes over one evening to study; their schedules will diverge completely next semester.
“I can’t believe this is the last time we’re studying for an exam together,” Elle remarks, kitchen table replete with snacks and caffeine.
“Were we not planning to work together on bar prep?”
“That’s different. I can’t believe this is coming to an end.”
“Don’t get sentimental yet. Or… ever, if you can help it.”
I make no promises. But you never told me – when did you decide on international law for sure?”
Vivienne shrugs. “I’ve always been interested in it. My associateship last summer was mostly in the corporate vein, and I thought that was my plan – until I saw some of their pro bono work.”
“And now?”
“Now…” Vivienne reaches for an Oreo. “I want to use my powers for good.”
“That’s not exactly a new thing for you,” Elle points out.
Vivienne smirks. “Right, it’s been years now since you thought I was evil. But… I don’t know. There’s something really appealing about helping people know their rights when they otherwise wouldn’t, and there are a lot of opportunities to do it. The Peace Corps, for one.”
Elle’s mildly taken aback, but tries not to show it. “That’s an interesting idea.”
“Yeah. There are NGOs, too, if I decide to go a slightly different route. If I’m willing to go overseas, and I think I am, there are a lot of places where I can put my French to good use.”
“How well do you speak French, exactly?”
“I wouldn’t say fluent, but not that far off. East Coast boarding schools will do that to you. There’s just one problem with all this.”
“Should I tell Enid you’re describing her as a problem?” Elle teases.
“If I never hear the end of it, neither will you,” Vivienne warns. “But I’ve somehow managed to fall in love with someone I never could have seen coming. Which is still mildly distressing, for the record. And she wants to stay here and work at McCord, Stone, & Baker after graduation.”
Elle nods; Enid had a summer associateship there, overlapping with Emmett once in a while. “Getting justice for all the first wives of the world is her passion?”
Vivienne shakes her head. “No. I mean, she’s happy enough doing that too, but in her heart of hearts, she’s really kind of a crusader for protecting people from mistreatment, and way too much of that falls into the realm of family law. She has the stomach for some pretty grisly situations.”
“Someone has to,” Elle acknowledges. “Is there any chance she’d go with you instead? Maybe find a way to do it somewhere else?”
“She’s already said she doesn’t want to do the Peace Corps again. And if I go for this in any capacity, it won’t be here. At least not entirely.”
“I’m sure you two will figure it out,” Elle assures her. “Love finds a way.”
“Sometimes,” Vivienne allows. “And sometimes your goals are too different and love isn’t enough.”
“It’s not like you don’t have time. And maybe there’s a compromise here.”
“Maybe.” Vivienne looks doubtful. “I have to get through the bar before doing anything anyway, and that’s not going to happen if we don’t graduate first. Let’s get to it.”
Elle sails through finals, and Tracy’s wedding happens to fall during winter break. Even more fortuitous, there’s a blizzard in Boston while they’re gone. Emmett mentioned offhand when they were booking a flight a few months ago that he’s never seen the Pacific Ocean, so Elle convinced him to head out early and make a weeklong trip of it. It’s pretty idyllic, even if she can’t wrap her head around how a 700-page biography could possibly be construed as beach reading.
(It makes him happy, though.
She really doesn’t need to get it beyond that.)
Delta Nus show up in droves a couple days before the wedding, and within a few hours of their arrival, Elle has been told Emmett’s a catch more times than there are pages in his book. At the reception a couple days later, they drag Elle onto the dance floor for the bouquet toss; having Single Ladies playing is cute for about 15 seconds, but things start to feel increasingly awkward as the song continues with all of them just standing there. Eventually someone has words with the DJ, and Tracy flings the flowers backward, but she has extraordinarily bad aim – and a really good arm. Meticulously arranged roses and lilies sail far over the heads of the dance floor crowd, toward the tables. Elle follows its trajectory, and bursts into laughter when she sees the bouquet crash-land in Emmett’s lap. He stands up a little, holding it up to chuckles and applause with a grin and a shake of his head, and everyone in the group begins to disperse. Elle walks back to their table, still laughing.
“I believe this might have been intended for you,” he says, holding them out.
“Oh, no,” she counters with a smile. “I’ve seen enough bouquet tosses end in tug-of-war to know the rules. Where it lands is where it stays.”
He laughs. “Either way, the significance is the same. Although we have another wedding coming up in two months, so unless we revisit that City Hall idea, we might be out of luck.”
Elle raises an eyebrow. “That was even worse than the last time you brought it up, you know.”
“See, I thought it was utterly poetic,” he says, amused.
She giggles. “It needs some work.”
“Well.” He pretends to contemplate this. “I guess I’ll just have to keep trying.”
(She’s confident he will.
But not if she gets there first.)
***
She’s not entirely certain what her plan is until mid-April, when she finds out she’s going to be valedictorian. That’s enough of a shock in and of itself, especially when she considers her rocky start, but Emmett says he doesn’t know why she’s surprised. When she has coffee with Vivienne the next day, Vivienne swears she’s only a little miffed, but if it’s going to be anyone else, she’s happy it’s Elle.
“It does mean you’re giving a speech.”
“That is not lost on me.” Elle nods, her mind beginning to stitch together an approximation of what she might want to say – and then it hits her. “Oh my god.”
“What?” Vivienne wrinkles her brow. “Don’t tell me the queen of the courtroom is suddenly afraid of public speaking.”
“Nope. I’m just… looking forward to it. Quite a lot, in fact.”
His facetious City Hall propositions aside, Elle knows that whatever Emmett would actually come up with would be sweet and understated and quintessentially him. And she loves him, so she knows she would be thrilled with it.
But she also loves big romantic gestures. And she certainly doesn’t need to be the recipient of one to appreciate that it’s happening.
So whenever she’s home alone during the next few weeks, she practices getting down on one knee in heels.
Her delivery of the actual speech is kind of a blur, and she tunes back in as she motions to everyone to hold on for a moment as she descends the stairs of the stage. Emmett in particular looks really confused, and she has to pull rather firmly on his hands to get him to move from where he is. He’s momentarily shocked into silence, and looking up at him, she suddenly remembers he’s not quite the extrovert she is and it somehow hasn’t even occurred to her in the midst of her scheming that a big romantic gesture on this scale might completely freak him out.
But then he smiles, and he’s suddenly pulling her to her feet and looking into her eyes, nodding with elation and tenderness and more love than either of them could ever adequately verbalize – she slides the ring onto his finger as he… damn, is that a kiss, the Times Square sailor can kick rocks – and everyone is practically exploding all around them, but she can’t see or hear or bring herself to care. The ceremony must be concluding and he’s somehow more aware of their surroundings than she, because he reaches for the tassel on her mortarboard cap, moving it from left to right, his eyes never leaving hers.
(She thanks her past self for selecting the waterproof eyeliner this morning.)
Part of planning this whole thing down to the tiniest detail has included arranging a big graduation dinner. It’s an opportunity to celebrate two exciting events simultaneously, and it’ll also keep her parents from immediately delving into their ideas for their only daughter’s wedding. Elle knows she and Emmett will eventually figure out what they want, but already knows that it’ll look nothing like the vision in Harrison and Caroline’s heads.
Fortunately, Vivienne’s mom keeps them occupied – something about the DAR and how they can trace their lineage back to the Pilgrims or whatever. At one point, Elle looks around the noisy table. Enid is whispering something to Vivienne, who smiles back just a little wistfully – Elle’s not sure if Vivienne even knows what her future path looks like at this point, but it’s pretty clear Enid isn’t going anywhere regardless. Dana is engaged in an intense discussion with Paulette that bounces from epidurals to eyelash extensions and back. Brooke seems to be advising Kyle on core work to avoid lower back pain from carrying heavy objects, and Enid’s parents are going back and forth with Vivienne’s dad on the political implications of marriage equality, Gabe occasionally chiming in. She looks at Emmett, raising her eyebrows and tilting her head – asking silently whether he can believe this.
He takes her hand, and when she feels the edge of the titanium band brush against her fingers – well. Once again, waterproof eyeliner for the win.
After far too many toasts and a million neverending goodbyes, they’re finally home, and she’s just slipped off her shoes by the door when Emmett asks her to have a seat in the living room for a second. He returns with a large package in tow, settling beside her.
“What is all this?” Her eyes widen. “You didn’t have to-”
“As if I wasn’t going to get you a graduation gift,” he interrupts. “Open it.”
She removes the wrapping paper and takes the lid from the box. The satchel inside is modern-looking, a warm caramel color with lighter tote straps; she couldn’t have chosen a better court accessory herself.
“I love it!”
“Vegan leather,” he pronounces. “Look inside.”
There’s a fancy rectangular wooden box in the main compartment, the exact size of a fountain pen, and she grins. “You really went for all the attorney essentials, didn’t you? Thank you so much.”
“You’re welcome,” he says, “Ah, check it out. It’s pretty special.”
It’s a pen. What, is the ink made of precious metals? she thinks wryly, but nonetheless lifts the lid of the box.
Resting inside is the expected writing implement, surrounding which is…
(Oh.
Oh.
It’s not the ink that’s made of precious metals, it’s- )
The entire thing would have hit the floor if not for Emmett’s reflexes; he gently takes the box from her and deftly removes the ring while keeping hold of her hand. “The stone was my great-grandmother’s,” he tells her softly. “My mom wore her ring for a little while, and when she needed money for bills, it was the one thing she couldn’t bear to part with. She said that when she met you, it became clear why she’d really held onto it.”
“It’s beautiful,” Elle whispers in a daze, eyes fixing on his as he slides it onto her finger. She takes his face in her hands and kisses him, her gaze eventually drifting down to the oval diamond. Turning her hand this way and that to see the delicate filigree band, she looks up at him with a start. “It’s pink.”
“Yeah, I didn’t really think the old setting was your style. And then Paulette and Vivienne both told me independent of one another that if I gave it to you as it was, there would be hell to pay.” He laughs. “So I found out rose gold was a thing and figured… a mix of old and new.”
She didn’t think either of their smiles could grow more, but they do, and she throws her arms around his neck as he leans back in toward her.
(He almost drops her on the way to their room.
Twice.)
Later, she’s beginning to drift off, her back against his chest, when his voice drowsily mumbles in her ear. “Hey.”
“Hey.” She shifts a little.
“Will you marry me?”
“What?”
“You got to actually pop the question. I didn’t.”
“Pretty sure that’s asked and answered, Emmett.”
“Overruled.”
She smiles a little. “What would you do right now if I said no?”
“Given the last twelve hours, trying to make it make sense would probably cause my brain to implode.”
“Well. We can’t have that.”
“It certainly wouldn’t help me make partner.”
“When you put it that way…”
“Elle.”
“Yes. Obviously.”
He chuckles, apparently satisfied. “Was that so difficult?”
“Emmett?”
“Hmm?”
“Sleep.”
“Okay.”
“I love you.”
She feels him pull her closer, and she hears him as her eyes flutter shut. “Love you.”
***
The calm of engaged bliss doesn’t last very long.
Elle only has a couple days to spare before diving full-force into bar prep, and she spends that first postgrad morning having breakfast with her parents before their flight back. Emmett offers to take off or go in late – he has a bunch of extra days banked and Angela is getting on his case about it – but she tells him to hold onto them for an actual vacation.
She regrets it before the server has even taken their order.
It starts out fine, as it usually does; her mother manages not to comment on Elle proposing first, and compliments her ring without any slights. And then Caroline brings up the wedding.
“Mom, we’ve been engaged for less than 24 hours, and I’m about to spend two months drowning in bar prep.” Elle smiles pointedly with as much patience as she can muster. “We have time.”
“Well, if we’re going to get space at the club for an event of that caliber, it’s important to request a date early. We’ll need it for the entire day.”
“You want us to… get married at your country club?” Elle’s not sure what she wants to do, nor does she have any idea what Emmett’s thinking at this point – but she’s certain tying the knot on a golf course in Malibu won’t speak to him any more than it does to her.
(Namely: not in the slightest.)
“Well, if that doesn’t interest you,” Caroline says incredulously, “your father has a few interesting clients who owe him favors.”
“You manage their wealth for them, Dad.” Elle smirks. “What favors other than payment can they possibly owe you?”
Harrison glances up from his phone long enough to say, “If you want Tom Selleck’s ranch, it’s yours.”
Once again, Elle tries and fails to imagine it. Three hundred of her parents’ nearest and dearest, an ultra-catered affair, every detail meticulously arranged and impossible to alter – she’s been to those kinds of weddings before, and they were never what she’d call a good time. And it’s impossible to even envision Emmett in a scenario like that.
She closes her eyes for a long moment, wondering if maybe City Hall is still an option – but then she sees it. Kind of, anyway; details elude her, but some elements are crystal clear. People the two of them actually know and care about, few enough that she gets a chance to actually talk to everyone who attends. Someplace pretty, yet not over-the-top. Walking down the aisle, maybe by herself – she’ll admit that one takes her by surprise, but not in a bad way – to meet Emmett at the other end.
That’s really all she wants, or needs.
(Although she wouldn’t mind a fabulous dress.)
“You know, you guys, I think we’re going to take things in a different direction. I don’t know exactly what that is yet, but Emmett and I will figure it out.”
Caroline purses her lips. “If we are paying for this wedding-“
“If you don’t want to, you don’t have to,” Elle finds herself saying. “Like I said, we’ll figure it out.”
It’s not where she expected the conversation to go, but as the words emerge, she realizes she fully stands behind them. Between her expected salary and what Emmett’s currently making, they can probably pull off something good – and not having any strings attached sounds pretty damn appealing.
Harrison’s head snaps up. “That won’t be necessary,” he says in a firm tone Elle’s only ever heard him use for business deals. Turning to Caroline, he continues, “Let her do what she wants. I won’t have us become a repeat of Nina and Stuart.”
Elle narrows her eyes. “What happened to Nina and Stuart?”
Caroline falters. “Well… two years ago, Joshua was seeing a girl they didn’t like. They told him to end it or they’d cut him off and he… ran off to Las Vegas with the girl. None of them have spoken since.”
“They have a child now,” Harrison chimes in, “who has yet to meet its paternal grandparents. Unacceptable. Excuse me.” He stands up and steps away, answering his ringing phone as he moves toward the exit.
Elle raises her eyebrows; she hasn’t spent enough time in California recently to see any of her parents’ friends, let alone their offspring. “You never told me about that, Mom.”
“Well, it’s very sad for Nina,” she allows. “And everyone thinks it’s rather embarrassing that her behavior led to this. It’s not something I would typically volunteer to share.”
“Oh.” Elle shrugs. “I mean, I’m sorry to hear it, but… thank you. For being willing to cover what we want to do. Unless Emmett is secretly a huge Tom Selleck fan, I know our wedding probably won’t look like what you imagined-”
“I’m sure it won’t. But… you should be happy.”
Elle begins to relax – apparently just a little too soon.
“I do want our friends to be able to celebrate this,” Caroline adds as Harrison returns to his seat, phone call over. “So I wonder if perhaps there’s a deal we can make.”
“I’m not really sure how,” Elle admits.
Caroline thinks for a moment and brightens. “An engagement party. At the club. You and Emmett will fly out. You can certainly invite your friends as well.”
“It’s reasonable.” Harrison nods decisively.
Elle shrugs. “I’ll talk to Emmett.”
***
He’s about as enthusiastic about it as she expected.
“What does this kind of thing usuallly entail?”
Elle shrugs. “Cocktail party with a lot of people who care more about being seen there than the actual reason they’re gathering? But the food is usually okay.”
“They don’t expect you to ditch bar prep for this, do they?”
“I told them it has to be after. So like, end of July or beginning of August. Before my start date at Sawyer & Feldman.”
Emmett nods. “I mean, I don’t care. As long as you actually want to do it and you’re not going along with something you dread just to appease your parents.”
“It’s not that I want to appease them,” Elle explains. “I care about them, and… I know it probably doesn’t make a lot of sense to you, but all this high-society stuff comes with its own pressures. And who knows? It might be kind of fun for us. Margot and Serena and Pilar will all come, and you can totally invite whoever.”
Emmett shrugs. “I doubt anyone’s flying across the country for it, but… the Bay Area isn’t that far.”
“Like an hour-ish flight. Hop, skip, and jump.” She smiles, knowing his friend Keith is teaching at San Francisco State.
“Okay, then. Engagement party in L.A. in August. Moratorium back on?”
(Their pact is that nothing wedding-related gets discussed in depth until she’s finished with the bar exam.
It was her idea, but she knows it’s probably up to him to actually enforce.)
She nods. “It is. Now can we please take advantage of my last 36 hours before I descend into hell?”
“We certainly can.” He smiles. “And… at least you’re bringing some friends along with you?”
“I’m kind of hoping it’s not actually that intense.”
Several days later, it becomes clear that, in fact, it very much is. The prep course certainly helps narrow her focus, but it’s still kind of like treading water in ankle weights for nine solid weeks until the first exam day rolls around.
“I’m too nervous to eat anything,” she protests that morning as Emmett walks toward the table, plate and mug in hand to place next to his own. “Coffee’s probably a bad idea, too.”
“It’s half-caf,” he tells her, setting them down. “Enough to keep you going without your heart exploding by 10am. And if I recall, I never used to eat breakfast until someone insisted it would improve my energy and concentration, and they turned out to be right.”
“Nothing like my own words coming back to bite me,” she grumbles, examining the contents of the plate in front of her. Whole-wheat toast with almond butter and bananas – one of her go-to morning meals. She notices that he even remembered the cinnamon, and can’t help but smile. “Thank you, though.”
“Of course. Listen, this is going to go fine. Okay? You’ve got this.” His hand trails over the back of her shoulders as he moves toward his chair. “But you need to eat first.”
By the end of the following day, she feels like she’s just run the intellectual equivalent of a marathon, followed by a monster truck running over her. A bunch of people from her class took the exam at the same time, and they all agreed they’d wait until tomorrow to go out and celebrate being done; as she falls into bed before dark, she reflects on that decision and how smart they all really are.
She takes it easy the next day; they’re leaving for California the following night, so she triple-checks her packed bags to ensure she’s got everything, and in late afternoon gets dressed for the happy-hour gathering. It’s Emmett’s last day of work for almost two weeks, so he’s staying in the office late to tie up a few loose ends. He texts her to have fun and that he’ll meet up with them eventually, depending on when he leaves and where they are.
By Delta Nu standards, law school social events were closer to quiet chamomile-tea-and-knitting evenings than crazy nights out. So she’s somewhat out of practice with this kind of thing, but grins when Aaron declares his plan to drink away everything he ever learned about real property, and everyone else chimes in with similar intentions.
“I’m kind of ready to say goodbye to security interests,” Elle pipes up. “Are we getting pitchers?”
“Yeah, one for each of us,” Vivienne snorts as she signals toward the bartender.
By 7:30, Elle is three margaritas in and at least two sheets to the wind; the rest of the group is overall progressing at a similar pace. Everything anyone says or does is collectively hilarious, and it gets to the point that every few minutes, one person laughing sets off a chain of giggles until none of them can remember what was so funny in the first place.
Which in turn makes them laugh harder.
When Emmett texts her that he’s leaving work, she types an all-caps response that’s probably less than coherent, but also manages to send him a pin so he knows where the bar is. Almost an hour later, everyone has broken into smaller conversations; she’s working on margarita number four and her giggly exuberance has taken something of a turn, leaving her both maudlin and chatty.
“I just love him so much, you know?” she drawls to Vivienne, who’s got her elbow on the table propping up her head with one hand. “Like, he took Bruiser out twice a day when I was doing bar prep so it was one less thing I had to think about. And he always gets the organic milk because that’s what I like, even though he doesn’t really care. Oh, and you should know that when we’re, you know, he does this amazing thing-”
“I should absolutely not know that,” Vivienne interrupts, slurring her speech just a little.
“And I can tell him anything,” Elle continues as if Vivienne hasn’t spoken. “I could listen to him talk for hours and I never ever get sick of him. Oh, no.” She suddenly feels her face tense with worry. “Do you think he gets sick of me?”
With effort, Vivienne lifts her head momentarily. “Why don’t you ask him?” She halfheartedly flings her free hand up in the general direction of the door. “I wish they had pie here. Can we go somewhere with pie?”
Elle looks up and sees Emmett approaching their table; he must have stopped home to change, because he’s dressed a lot more casually than what he left wearing this morning.
“Oh my god, Vivienne. He’s really hot,” she whispers loudly. “I have a really hot fiancé. Huh. Fiancé is a weird word.”
“It’s not weird,” she mumbles. “It’s French.”
“Say something in French.”
“Fiancé.”
“Something else.”
Vivienne pauses. “I don’t remember anything else.”
“You drank enough to forget an entire language? That’s actually impressive.” They look up and Emmett’s standing there, looking highly amused.
It’s not like Elle didn’t see him walk in, but she feels an incredibly goofy smile come over her face regardless. “Hi!” She rises to her feet a little too quickly and immediately sits back down. “Oh, sitting is better. Come sit next to me!”
He does, taking in the scene in front of him with a chuckle. “Having fun?”
“So much fun. I erased tax law from my brain. All of it. And now you’re here and that’s the best.” Elle nods resolutely. “Do you ever get sick of me?”
He smiles. “I do not.”
“Oh. Good.” She sighs and attempts to lean over and put her head on his shoulder – except their chairs are a little too far apart, and she’s about to fall out of hers. He gently pushes her back upright.
“Maybe just… stay there for a little bit.”
“Hey, Emmett. Guess what?” Vivienne leans over, her head now at a precarious angle. “We’ve reached the oversharing portion of the evening.”
“Have you now?” He raises an eyebrow at Elle, who tries to look innocent.
“Yeah. And more power to you, apparently.” Vivienne lifts her highball glass in his direction, nearly sloshing what remains of… Elle’s pretty sure it’s her fifth vodka cranberry over the edge. “Personally, I’ve never had a guy do anything in bed that I’d publicly describe as amazing.”
“For the love of…” Emmett ducks his head, and when he looks at Elle again, she can’t help but notice his face is flushed – which sends her into another round of giggles. “Yeah, I think I’m gonna have to cut you off.” He reaches for her half-full margarita glass, setting it outside her reach.
“I didn’t give her details.” Elle feels a devious grin slowly spreading across her face. “But you know.”
“Wow.” He rubs his eyes. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this…”
“Happy?”
“I was gonna go with plastered, but sure.” He’s biting back a smile. “And I genuinely hope you’re as happy tomorrow morning as you are right now.”
Meanwhile, Vivienne flings her head toward Enid on her other side. “I want to go to the diner.”
Enid, who’s nursing her third beer and doesn’t even look tipsy, turns from her conversation with Sundeep and Whitney. “We can do that, honey.” She rubs Vivienne’s shoulder, looking past her to Elle and Emmett. “Any interest? Probably would be wise to soak up some excess booze.”
“Yeah, you wouldn’t like me when I’m hungover,” Vivienne adds in a monotone.
Emmett nods. “Good call. I actually haven’t eaten, so-”
“You skipped dinner?” Elle gasps. “And you came out to party with us? That is not very responsible.”
He laughs. “We can address my reckless behavior later, let’s just focus on standing up for now.”
It takes a couple attempts, but once she’s upright, she actually walks pretty steadily. (She’s got a vise grip on his arm, which is admittedly helping.)
They make it around the corner to a 24-hour greasy spoon, and Elle can’t decide between cheese fries and carrot cake. Both eventually appear in front of her, as well as coffee and what seems to be a bottomless glass of water.
She’s progressively more able to follow the conversation. Vivienne’s intoxication dissipates as she finally gets pie, and she’s talking about the NGO job she’s about to start; she’ll split her time between the local field office and shorter-term assignments abroad. Enid is staying on at McCord, Stone, & Baker as a new associate, and the partners have already told her that if she wants to accompany Vivienne overseas a few times a year, they’d more than consider it a fulfillment of her pro bono requirement.
Before Elle knows it, she feels considerably more clearheaded – although the basket on the table was not almost empty the last time she looked at it. She glances at Emmett suspiciously. “Are you eating my fries?”
“We’re engaged. I think that means what’s mine is yours and vice versa.” He shrugs nonchalantly, taking another bite of his sandwich.
“Oh. Cool. So I guess that means I can start sleeping in your Pearl Jam shirt? You know, the one you don’t even wear because you’re afraid it’ll fade in the wash?”
He pauses, then pushes the fries closer to her. “Why don’t you go ahead and finish these.”
“That’s what I thought.” She grins smugly.
***
Elle wakes up the next morning with a slight headache, but she’s had a few truly wicked hangovers before and this is nothing in comparison. Emmett’s already up, but there’s a full water glass and a bottle of ibuprofen on her nightstand.
She takes two pills, drains the glass, and pads out into the living room. “Morning.”
“Hey.” Emmett glances up from his book. “How are you feeling?”
“Not too bad. Thanks for the medicine, though. And for making me drink, like, the Amazon last night – I think that probably helped a lot.”
“Good.” He smiles. “There’s coffee if you want it.”
“If I want it,” she laughs. “I’ll be right back.”
Mug in hand, she heads back in a few minutes later, sitting at the other end of the couch. “Are you packed?”
Emmett nods. “Mostly. I’ll finish up in a little bit, but we don’t have to leave for the airport for six more hours. I assume you’ve been packed for weeks?”
“I would have been, but I didn’t really finish until yesterday. Pesky bar prep getting in my way.”
“It’s a relief to be done, though, right?”
“Yeah, and now I get to wait for another three months to find out if I passed.” She frowns. “I’d better have passed, just because I don’t think I can ever do that again.”
He reaches over, placing a hand on her knee. “I think it’ll be fine. Best thing to do is distract yourself.”
“I know.” She smiles. “Paulette’s picking up Bruiser around noon. Oh, and I forgot to tell you – the girls want to take me wedding dress shopping on Monday. Is that okay?”
“You don’t have to ask my permission,” he points out. “Of course, go. Keith is sticking around L.A. for a couple days after the party anyway, we can do something. But, uh… you’re looking at dresses before we set a date?”
She shrugs. “They can take months to come in. And anyway, why haven’t we set a date?”
“Good point, moratorium's over. Any ideas?”
“Not sure,” she says. “I guess it’ll depend on what season we want.“
“Which I suppose might depend on where we do this.”
“Yeah.” As Elle considers it, though, she realizes there’s really no question. “You know, I think I want to keep things kind of small. Like, I want my parents there, obviously. And some Delta Nus. And I know some of your friends would have to travel too… but pretty much all the other people we would want there are already around here.”
He nods. “Kind of makes the most sense.”
“And, you know. We fell in love here.” She smiles. “How could it be anywhere else?”
He grins. “Okay. So if it’s going to be here… spring is pretty nice.”
“It is. So, like, this coming spring? Or the year after?” She purses her lips in thought. “We’d have more time to plan if we waited.”
He’s quiet for a minute as he mulls it over. “Do you want to wait?”
“Not really,” she confesses. “You?”
“Elle, I’d marry you this afternoon if we didn’t have a flight to catch.” He smiles softly. “I’d rather not push it off for that long.”
She knows her expression is ridiculously saccharine and she doesn’t care. “Okay. How about… I guess May? It’s not usually as rainy.”
He nods. “Fine with me. When in May are you thinking?”
She takes a breath. “Well, we have to find a place to do this, and it’ll depend on when they have availability.”
“Do we have to do that right now?”
“I mean… soon.”
He smiles. “Okay. We have some time to kill at Logan and then a six-hour flight, I’m sure we can at least narrow it down.”
But when they step off the plane in L.A. that night, it has not been narrowed down in the slightest. They’re not remotely on the same page about where to get married; Elle thinks they might not even be in the same book.
“Can we table it for now?” he asks as they wait at baggage claim. “I know we have to figure something out soon, but it can wait until after this trip. Right?”
“Right,” she says, not entirely convinced.
The party is surprisingly uneventful; as Elle predicted, none of her parents’ friends or business associates or cronies particularly care about the couple they’re supposedly there to celebrate, so she and Emmett stick to their friends and the better hors d'oeuvres.
(What she couldn’t have predicted is that Margot and Keith would take a liking to each other, but it’s highly entertaining to watch.)
She shows Emmett around Santa Monica the next day, culminating in dinner at Katie’s restaurant; Elle’s old roommate personally brings out dessert for them.
“Your recipes have probably taken years off my life and it’s fully worth it,” Emmett says before taking a bite of strawberry-peach cobbler and involuntarily closing his eyes. “And… good lord. Not like I didn’t already know it, but you were absolutely robbed on Top Chef.”
“Oh, thanks!” Katie laughs, looking over to Elle. “I like him.”
On Monday morning the girls come to collect her, and Emmett kisses her as she heads to the door. “Have fun.”
“Don’t worry, Emmett!” Serena calls from the doorway. “We’ll make sure she gets a really sexy dress.”
Elle turns back to him, shaking her head. “I think I’m in the market for something a little more classic. Sorry to disappoint.”
He laughs. “I trust your taste.”
“Thank you.” She looks at her friends with a raised brow. “I know the stripper-Tinkerbell look is in right now, but I’m not looking back at my wedding photos in however many years and cringing at what I picked.”
“I get it,” Pilar chimes in. “But that look totally works for the honeymoon.”
Elle catches her friends glance in Emmett’s direction, as if to gauge his reaction. He just shrugs at Elle with a smirk. “Happy shopping.”
The girls have made reservations at three different boutiques. On the way to the first one, Pilar asks about the wedding venue, and Elle groans. “He was thinking, like, something in a park. But I asked what we do if it rains, and now he’s off that. And I’m kind of okay with some of the event spaces around the city, but he thinks they’re too, like, impersonal and not worth what they charge, so now we’re stuck.”
“Why not get married at Harvard?” Serena asks. “Like, at Harvard? People do that, right?”
“Yeah.” Elle scrunches up her face. “We actually talked about it. It wasn’t totally speaking to me, but I maybe could’ve gotten there. And then he said he felt like it was stuffy.”
“I can’t believe he’s pickier than you are about this.” Margot snorts from behind the wheel.
Elle shakes her head. “It’s not like I’m coming up with anything I love that much. But I’m starting to run out of ideas. Is this why people end up eloping?”
“If you try, we will all find you.” Margot gives her a quick sidelong glance. “Elle, if neither of you love anything… I don’t know, what’s something he likes a lot?”
“He reads all the time.” Elle shrugs.
“So get married in a bookstore,” Margot jokes. “Or, like, the library or something.”
Pilar and Serena laugh, but Elle grows quiet and pulls out her phone, rapidly typing.
“Oh my god, I love it.”
Pilar reaches forward from the back seat and taps her shoulder. “Huh?”
“Just… wait.” She continues typing. “There’s a courtyard.”
“Elle?” Serena’s now leaning toward her.
“Shh, just a second.” She selects a link and gasps. “Oh, that’s so pretty.”
“What’s so pretty?” Margot persists.
Elle grins. “Margot, you are a genius.”
“I am?” Margot smiles. “Cool.”
Elle passes her phone to the back seat, and shortly thereafter Serena and Pilar both voice their approval. Once they get to a red light and Margot can turn away from the road to look, she does the same.
She texts Emmett a link, followed by several question marks. Shortly thereafter, she receives a reply.
Yes. Absolutely yes – I had no idea the public library even had spaces like this.
She smiles. Neither did I. If you want, I can call them later to ask what’s open.
He doesn’t respond immediately, but after a few minutes, her phone vibrates and she sees a new message alert. I just did. They had the first Saturday in May available, I hope that works?
Elle types a quick affirmative reply and sighs happily.
At their first stop, Elle grudgingly tries on one Pilar’s picks, which does indeed look a lot more like lingerie than a bridal gown, and one of Serena’s, which is so tight from neckline to knee that Elle’s practically forced to hobble.
“How am I supposed to dance if I can’t walk?” she complains.
Serena smiles. “If you come out in that, no one will be thinking about dancing.”
“She’s right,” Margot acknowledges. “But.. do you want to try something a little more A-line and a little less Baby Got Back?”
“Yes, please.” Elle groans. “Can I just take this off out here? I’m going to fall flat on my face if I try to make it into the dressing room.”
The rest of the dresses at that place are equally a bust – but the next store’s stock is much more in line with what Elle was thinking. The attendant takes the time to really listen to what she wants, and after Elle tries on three that are very nice but not quite right, the attendant brings in this romantic, ethereal wonder of a gown that makes Elle’s jaw drop.
“This seems to check most of the boxes.”
Elle nods eagerly. “I don’t think I could have dreamed this up. I just really hope it fits.”
It does – like a glove – and it’s a good thing they’re the only ones in the boutique, because the girls start screaming the second she emerges from the dressing room.
“If you don’t say yes to that damn dress, Elle…” Pilar is bouncing on her toes. “It’s so you.”
The attendant quietly clears her throat. “Did you notice it has pockets?”
Her friends look up in silence, look at each other, and start screaming again. Meanwhile, Elle’s just staring in the mirror, a smile playing on her face. If perfection does exist, she’s pretty sure this is what it looks like.
People have told her all her life that she’s beautiful, but it’s one thing to hear it and something else entirely to believe it. This dress? It’s making her a believer.
And she’s going to wear it when she marries the person she loves more than anything. Who’s always believed she’s so much more than beautiful.
She’s never been one to wish time away – but next spring can’t possibly get here soon enough.