Chapter 63: Wedding Preparations - Part 1
The backyard transformation started at dawn.
Ben stood in the predawn gray with Carl, both holding coffee and surveying the space that would become their wedding venue in five days. The backyard looked like every other Gallagher backyard—patchy grass, random furniture, Grammy's grave marker near the back fence.
"We've got a lot of work," Carl said.
"We've got five days and a family." Ben pulled out the plans they'd drawn weeks ago. "You built the arbor. Let's install it."
The arbor Carl had constructed in the garage was simple but solid—two posts connected by a crossbeam, all reinforced after his structural analysis had identified weak points. They carried it out in pieces, assembled it near Grammy's grave.
"She'd want to be part of this," Fiona said, appearing with more coffee. "Grammy loved love stories."
By 8 AM, the full family had mobilized. Ian wrestled with sound system installation—speakers mounted on the back porch, wiring that would (hopefully) survive the ceremony. Debbie directed decoration placement with military precision—paper flowers hung from the arbor, banners stretched across the fence, centerpieces positioned on borrowed tables.
"These look amazing," Fiona said, examining Debbie's paper flower creations.
"YouTube tutorials and forty-five days of house arrest." Debbie adjusted a banner. "I had time to perfect the craft."
Liam "helped" by carrying small items back and forth without clear purpose. Everyone pretended his contributions were essential. At two years old, enthusiasm mattered more than effectiveness.
V arrived at 10 AM with clipboard and anxiety. "Okay, seating chart. We've got forty-three confirmed guests. That's seven rows of six chairs plus the back row of seven. Ben's side gets three rows, Fiona's side gets four because Gallaghers breed like rabbits."
"Accurate," Fiona confirmed.
"Ceremony starts at 4 PM. That gives us daylight for photos plus sunset for dramatic effect during vows. Reception starts at 5:30 after photos. Food service at 6. Dancing at 7. Everyone's drunk by 9." V checked her clipboard. "Perfect timeline."
"You've planned this more thoroughly than most weddings," Ben observed.
"Because you two survived cocaine arrest and house arrest to get here. This wedding will be PERFECT or I will burn Chicago down."
"No pressure," Fiona muttered.
Kevin showed up at noon with borrowed chairs—church had lent them fifty folding chairs after V had begged the priest. They arranged them in neat rows facing the arbor, creating an actual ceremony space from backyard chaos.
"This looks real," Carl said, stepping back to assess. "Like an actual wedding venue."
"That's because it is," Ben replied. "Venues are just spaces you decide to use for important events. This space is important. Therefore, venue."
"That's weirdly philosophical."
"That's me."
Fiona
Food coordination happened at the Alibi.
Kevin had commandeered his own bar for wedding catering planning. Fiona sat at a table covered in recipes while Kevin explained his master plan.
"Main course: BBQ. Pulled pork, ribs, chicken. I can smoke enough for sixty people." He pointed at his calculations. "Sides: coleslaw, potato salad, beans, cornbread. All cheap, all filling, all delicious."
"All very South Side," Fiona added.
"We are South Side. Might as well embrace it."
V appeared with cake samples. "Taste these. Tell me which one."
Fiona tried three variations—chocolate, vanilla, and red velvet. All were good. The fact that V had taught herself cake decoration from YouTube during Fiona's house arrest made them perfect.
"Chocolate," Fiona decided. "With vanilla frosting. Classic."
"Classic it is." V made notes. "Three tiers, decorated with real flowers on top, serves sixty. It'll be beautiful."
Neighbors had already started committing dishes—Mrs. Rodriguez was bringing tamales, the Milkoviches were contributing pierogis (Mickey's grandma's recipe, surprisingly), Tommy from the shop offered to smoke a brisket. South Side tradition meant potluck feast built from community contributions.
"We're going to have so much food," Fiona said.
"Better too much than too little. Leftovers are victory." Kevin checked his lists. "Alcohol's handled—Frank actually called in favors. We've got donated beer, decent whiskey, and champagne for toasts."
"Frank called in favors?" Fiona's voice was suspicious.
"He's been sober for a week. Helping with preparations. It's unsettling."
"You're telling me."
Frank found Fiona at the house that afternoon.
She was coordinating seating arrangements with V—who sat with whom, how to prevent family fights, where to put Frank so he couldn't cause maximum damage.
"I'd like to walk you down the aisle," Frank said without preamble.
Fiona dropped her pen. "You what?"
"Walk you down the aisle. Father gives away the bride. I'm your father. Technically." He looked uncomfortable saying it. "Ben saved this family. Saved you specifically. The least I can do is participate in your wedding properly."
"You've never participated in anything properly in your life."
"Which is why this is notable." Frank sat across from her. "Look, I'm a disaster. We all know it. But you're my daughter and you're marrying a good man who's done more for you in two years than I did in twenty-four. I want to be part of that. Want to show up for once."
Fiona felt tears threatening. "You'll be sober? Actually sober?"
"I'll be sober."
"And you'll show up on time?"
"I'll show up early."
"And you won't make inappropriate comments during the ceremony?"
"I'll try very hard to behave."
It was the best promise Frank had ever made—honest acknowledgment that he'd try instead of guarantees he couldn't keep.
"Okay," Fiona said. "You can walk me down the aisle. But Frank? If you screw this up—"
"I know. You'll never forgive me. I won't screw it up."
He left. Fiona sat with V in stunned silence.
"Did Frank just... parent?" V asked.
"I think he did."
"Ben's influence is terrifying."
"Ben's influence is saving everyone."
Ben
By evening, the backyard was transformed.
Ben stood at the back door surveying the space—arbor installed near Grammy's grave, chairs arranged in neat rows, decorations hung carefully, sound system tested and functional. What had been cluttered yard that morning now looked like wedding venue.
"We did good," Carl said, appearing beside him with cleaning supplies.
"We did really good."
The kid—seventeen now, nearly an adult—had worked all day without complaint. Had built the arbor from Ben's plans, had helped arrange chairs, had even created a lighting scheme using string lights borrowed from neighbors.
"Thanks," Ben said. "For helping with all this."
"You're marrying my sister. You've been teaching me mechanic skills for a year and a half. This is the least I can do." Carl paused. "Also, you know, you're family. We help family."
The simple statement hit harder than expected. Ben had spent nineteen months integrating into the Gallagher family, protecting them, building stability. Somewhere in that time he'd stopped being an outsider and become one of them.
"Family helps family," Ben agreed.
They finished cleanup in comfortable silence. The sun was setting, painting the prepared backyard in golden light. In four days, Fiona would walk through this space toward Ben. They'd say vows. Become officially married in front of everyone who mattered.
A year ago I was a transmigrator protecting TV characters from show timelines. Now I'm marrying Fiona with her family's blessing, in a wedding we built together from zero budget and maximum love.
"What are you thinking about?" Fiona asked, joining them.
"How lucky I am."
"Lucky Ben," she said, the nickname he'd earned back . "Still living up to the name."
"Still getting lucky breaks."
"That's not luck. That's preparation meeting opportunity." She surveyed the backyard. "This is beautiful. Better than anything I could've imagined."
"This is family," Ben corrected. "Everyone working together to create something perfect for us."
Debbie appeared with Liam. Ian and Mickey emerged from the house. V and Kevin showed up with final supplies. The family gathered in the transformed backyard, admiring their work.
"Four days," V said. "Four days until the wedding."
"Four days until forever," Fiona added.
"Four days until we officially become in-laws," Frank contributed, surprisingly present and helpful.
Ben looked around at the family he'd chosen and who'd chosen him back. Four days until Fiona became his wife. Four days until forever officially started.
But really, forever had started the moment he'd decided to stay. To protect these people, build this life, love this woman. The wedding was just formality—the paperwork catching up to reality.
Four days until the ceremony. But we've already built forever.
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