It was late 2015 and we had just bought our first house together. We were ambitious—maybe a little too ambitious—because we decided to host both Thanksgiving and Christmas for our families in our brand-new home. We still have no idea what we were thinking. At the time, I had just started a new position, and Guy was taking on bigger projects at work. We were completely maxed out—stressed, exhausted, and in desperate need of a break. Come January, we knew we needed to get away. But not just any vacation—we wanted something fun, something different. So we booked a trip to the place where all questions are answered: Vegas, baby! The lights, the energy, and of course, Britney Spears—basically, all of Guy’s favorite things wrapped into one. About three weeks before we were set to fly out, I jokingly said, “What if we just got married while we’re in Vegas?” Guy chuckled and replied, “Yeah, we could.” And just like that, a little seed was planted. Two days later, I brought it up again. This time, I wasn’t joking. “What if we just get married?” We’d always said we’d run off to the courthouse or elope in Vegas, so this wasn’t entirely out of left field. Guy said, “Yeah, if we have time.” Excuse me? After seven years together, he still didn’t understand—if we were doing this, we were going to do it right. We weren’t winging it. We were planning. We started looking into venues, but nothing felt right. I suggested a drive-through chapel, but Guy wanted something more formal. We couldn’t agree on anything. Then, the next day, Guy texted me a link. I opened it and immediately recognized it—the Neon Museum. I had seen it on Pinterest years earlier and thought it was the coolest wedding venue ever. But I had long forgotten the name and couldn’t find it again. Guy found it in a day. “Stick with me, boo. I got you.” So we had a venue. Now we just needed rings and I needed a dress. I’d tried on every ring in Ramsey’s and still hadn’t found the right one. I don’t remember when it hit me, but I suddenly thought of my Granny’s birthstone ring. I called her. “Well, Ash, I don’t really have any jewelry you could use for your wedding ring,” she said. “What about your birthstone ring?” “Is that what you really want?” “I’ve always loved that ring. I think it would be special—and different.” “If that’s what you want, I’ll have Poppa ship it to you tomorrow.” “And Granny… don’t tell anyone.” “Oh, I promise. I’m not saying nothing!” As for Guy—he walked into a jewelry shop on Severn, took one look around, and said, “Yeah, this works.” So romantic. I went to one bridal shop and struck out. So, naturally, I ended up at the place where wedding dreams go to die: David’s Bridal. I walked in and asked, “What can I bring home today?” Turns out, everything was off-the-rack. I tried on one dress and said, “Yeah, this works.” Maybe I shouldn’t be so hard on Guy after all. Keeping it a secret was the hardest part. I wanted to tell my mom and sister so badly. Guy struggled too—he nearly cracked once—but we made it. I packed my dress in a carry-on (yes, a carry-on!) and off we went. We were officially on vacation. We shopped. We ate. We drank. We saw Britney! And then it was our wedding day. We took a limo to the Neon Museum, where we had our photos taken. It’s still one of the coolest places we’ve ever been. Then it was off to The Sign—yes, that Las Vegas sign—where we were married by Elvis. That was Guy’s one and only request. It was non-negotiable. I think we laughed through the entire ceremony. “Do you take this man to be your hunka hunka burning love?” While our story may be unconventional, it’s completely us. We did it our way. And we’ve heard for ten years now how much our family and friends wish they could’ve been there for our day. So... stay tuned for We Do, Part Two.