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Andy and Emily's wedding day is everything the couple could have imagined and more.
Not in their wildest dreams did they expect it to pan out so well. Their story hasn't exactly been a smooth one (see: not speaking for twenty years, followed by a year-long struggle of neither being brave enough to make the first move, followed by a pain in the ass ex-husband and two demanding jobs making everything ten times more difficult), and so they'd sort of expected this to follow in their relationship's footsteps.
But, no. The day is everything. Everything.
They married in an orangery in the grounds of a manor house, sunlight streaming through the beautiful glass roof as they spoke their vows and cried like fools in love.
The space was decorated just as they planned, with a spring meadow colour theme and clustered wildflowers and candles. The bar was fully stocked, serving refreshing cocktails, indulgent champagne, and local ales that Andy insisted on and Emily didn't once attempt to dismiss.
Truly, Andy can't think of anything that could make the day any better.
Well. No. That's a tiny lie. Minuscule.
Really, for the day to be 100% perfect instead of 99.9%, there would need to be a first dance.
That very first dance between the betrothed has always been Andy's favorite wedding tradition.
As a child, she'd loved seeing the prince and princess dance in Disney films. And then at the weddings her parents took her to, that first dance always filled her with such a sense of magic and whimsy, even as a kid.
Not many people know it, but Andy had loved that specific type of dancing so much, that she'd begged her parents for ballroom dancing lessons. Being the supportive people they were, they signed Andy up, and she'd adored it. So much, in fact, that she only stopped when she turned 19 and went to college.
Long enough, though, for the slow and beautiful steps to be ingrained in her soul forever.
Not to be dramatic or anything.
Anyway, Andy always dreaming of her own first dance makes sense, all that considered.
And then she met Emily.
Graceful. Poised. And two left feet.
If people are born with rhythm, then rhythm must've taken one look at tiny newborn Emily and run away screaming.
The woman cannot dance to save her life, and believe Andy, she has tried.
Unfortunately, with Emily being Emily, Andy's trying went nowhere.
While Andy is quite happy to do things she's bad at for the fun of it, Emily is not. The second her gorgeous girl realizes she's bad at something, she never attempts it ever again. And so, by the time Andy met Emily (both the first and second time), Emily had already written off dancing completely, and that was that.
Andy had tried to broach it for their wedding day.
"So," Andy had asked, super duper casual. "Our wedding day."
"Yes, darling," Emily had smiled at her.
"About our first dance-"
The smile vanished, replaced by a roll of blue eyes.
"No, darling," Emily had said, and it ended there.
Which, despite all of this, is actually, really, fine. As much as Andy would love to hold the woman she's devoted to and spin her around a stunning space in front of everyone they love, she would never make Emily do something she's uncomfortable or embarrassed about, especially on such a special day and with everyone looking.
Instead, they arranged for a string quartet and singer to serenade their guests with some of their favorite love songs for an hour, offering them the opportunity to dance in place of them.
So when Emily approaches her, resplendent in white and holding out her hand as the string instruments begin to play something familiar, Andy frowns curiously.
Then she looks around.
Everyone is looking at them with warm, knowing, excited smiles.
What?
"Emily," Andy murmurs, wide eyed. "What are you doing?"
"I," Emily says, smiling but nervous, "am asking my wife if she'd like to dance with me."
"Sweetheart," Andy says softly, taking Emily's offered hand and glancing around at their families and friends. "You don't need to. You hate dancing."
"I do," Emily admits, smile shaky and sweet, "but I love you."
"But…" Andy trails off, standing up and shifting close to Emily, closer to her warmth. "Baby, not to be a dick, but you have, like, zero rhythm."
"I will remember that, love," Emily says with an eyebrow raised, "however, I'd like to try. So. Dance with me?"
Andy will not cry. The makeup lady was expensive and she will not cry.
But as she lets Emily pull her into the center of the orangery, now designated for dancing, she feels her eyes start to prickle.
And when Emily starts to spin them around the room in a near perfect waltz, Andy is lost.
"Oh my god," Andy manages, choked up and laughing. "How the heck?"
"I booked lessons the day after you proposed," Emily reveals, moving them gracefully across antique tiles.
"When have you- oh, I knew book club wasn't a thing! You little sneak!"
Emily laughs, then nuzzles her nose to Andy's.
"Obviously," she says in the quiet space between them. "Book clubs are for dull people."
"Emily," Andy sighs, feeling a tear dash down her cheek, "you are the most incredible person I've ever met."
"That title is taken by you, my darling," Emily smiles. "I know how much this would mean to you. What was I supposed to do but get a grip and make it happen?"
Andy laughs again, then kisses her wife, slow, sweet, salty with tears. When she pulls back, Emily's own eyes are glassy, too.
"Thank you," Andy whispers.
"Well," Emily shrugs one delicate shoulder while they sweep around the room. "Some people are born with rhythm. Others learn it for love."