There’s been a bit of speculation—will they or won’t they.
If you read Counterpoint, you know the answer:
I turned to the mantle and pretended to look at the family pictures on display there—anything to take the attention off the topic at hand. Everyone who formed my world was accounted for in small, silver frames: There were my grandparents’ and great-grandparents’ wedding pictures, family portraits featuring pint-sized versions of Dad and my uncle, Mom and Maggie as high-school seniors, the engagement photo for which Bella only grudgingly agreed to pose, and my parents when they were dating.
“This is different,” I said, pointing to the one of my parents. “You used to have your wedding picture up here.”
“That is our wedding picture.”
I picked it up to take a closer look; it definitely wasn’t the one I was used to seeing. In that one, my mom was wearing a veil, and though I wouldn’t be able to describe her dress if my life depended on it, there was no doubt she looked bridal. In this one, she looked more like she was going to a party.
“Did you have two different dresses?” I asked.
“No, we had two different weddings. One was what your father wanted—the one you’re looking at now. We got married on the observation deck of City Hall. He thought it would be romantic to do it at the highest point in Philly.”
And there’s your answer.