Grumpy Alien King by Celeste King
Xxuric
“Ow, ow!” I protested as Jaxil tried to strangle me with the bowtie.
“This is how it goes,” he muttered. Though I swear he made it even tighter the more I complained.
“But it’s strangling me. I feel like my throat is in a vice.”
“Get used to it,” he scoffed.
“What does that mean?”
“It means you’re getting married. You’re going to feel strangled all the time. And, worse, like your balls are in a vice.”
“I’m in love, Jaxil,” I said, looking at his eyes in the mirror as he continued adjusting my tie. The tuxedo I wore was bespoke and had cost a fortune. Yet somehow the tie couldn’t get around my neck without choking me.
“Love. That’s all I hear from every Sanax,” Jaxil said. He stepped away from me, admiring his work, they locked eyes with me in the mirror. “I swear, I shall soon come upon a day where there is not a bachelor to be found among those my own age.”
“What can I do? Heather is beautiful and smart and capable…”
“So is my new car. And you know what my car gets me that a wife never could? More girls to bang.”
“Be careful, old friend,” I said, turning to face him. “Your mate could be out there. She could be traveling through the stars, on her way to you. Her DNA and yours, destined to be together across the galaxies.”
“Even if that were true, and I did have a genetic mate,” Jaxil said, puffing himself up and picking some lint off my suit, “I would categorically deny her. Just on principle. I would say, ‘I am sorry, dear, I’d be happy to spend a few days making glorious love to you, after which, I fear, we shall both have to go our separate ways.’”
“And then you’d leave?”
“In a heartbeat. And pray that, if she were truly my genetic match, her DNA would tell her truly that my moving on and her moving on were actually for the best.”
Jaxil checked himself in the mirror. He’d buffed his horns for today’s occasion and they reflected the small room’s lights to an almost blinding degree. I shook my head and chuckled.
“You know I thought as you do,” I told him. “Yet here I am.”
“May Polit have mercy on you,” Jaxil said solemnly.
“Alright. I’m done convincing you. Go and check that the bar is in order.”
“Now you are talking like a reasonable man,” Jaxil announced and popped out of the room. As the door opened, I could hear the sounds of several hundred people murmuring, then the door closed on it.
My stomach turned over in nervous anticipation. Was Jaxil right? Was I making a mistake?
If I was, at least I was making it with my son. I went to a different door and knocked once on it, then walked in.
Dahrial was standing before a mirror wearing an identical tuxedo to mine. It, too, was tailored just for him, though he still seemed to be swimming in it. He turned to me with a pleading look.
“Dad, I can’t get this bowtie on,” he said.
“It’s easier if someone else does it anyway,” I told him.
Standing behind him, I got his bowtie set up without strangling him half-as-much as Jaxil strangled me. Nevertheless, Dahrial looked concerned.
“Is it supposed to be this tight?” he asked.
“Yes,” I muttered. I turned him to face me. “Are you ready?”
“Are you?” he countered.
“As I’ll ever be.”
“Same.”
I couldn’t help but laugh. Never in my life did I imagine that I’d be getting married. Let alone doing it as part of a double ceremony with my son.
But when did life ever care about what you imagined it would turn out to be like?
Jaxil knocked on the door and told us it was time.
I looked at my son. An urge overtook me and I hugged him close to me. After a moment, he wrapped his arms around me, as well. Jaxil knocked again.
“We’re coming,” Dahrial and I growled at the same time. We smiled at one another. Perhaps the gremma fruit doesn’t fall so far from the tree, after all.
Moments later, Dahrial and I were standing at the altar that had been set up at the front of the great hall in my compound. Several hundred of our closest friends, relatives, clients and political allies sat and stared at my son and I. We nervously stared at our feet. Then, the music the Frulelian String Quartet was playing changed. The crowd all stood up and faced the back of the hall as the brides entered.
My breath caught. It was like two angels had walked into the room.
Not that they were all that comparable. Rulora, for all her curves, still appeared nerdy as hell. Even in her wedding gown, she managed to have the slight slump of someone who spent her days poring over data pads and books. Still, she looked lovely. Her red skin seemed radiant and her smile warmed my heart.
I was happy for her. Even happier for my son.
I was happiest of all, though, for myself.
Heather looked too amazing for words. Her white dress was modest in its cut yet clung to her body in all the right places. It was a dress that promised more than it showed, much like the woman herself. Her auburn hair was in a fancy up-do, revealing the alabaster of her perfect neck. Her makeup was smokey around her green eyes, accentuating them while once again promising more than met the eye.
There was no one in all the galaxy who could compare to her. I knew it with all my heart.
The ladies arrived at our sides. I held Heather’s hand tightly. I don’t even remember anything the officiant said. All I could think about was her, and holding her in my arms for the rest of our lives.
