My duties as bridesmaid include standing still while a seamstress makes a couple of small alterations to my classy cool Christian Siriano Infinite Tuxedo Gown in black (capped sleeves, V-neck, floor-length perfection and I will now be buried in this dress thank you). Followed by sitting still while the wonderful Tex yet again does my hair and makeup. Then hanging around for hours waiting for the ceremony to begin. Fortunately for me, I have a new book to read to while away the time.
Even with next to no notice, Emma has managed to fill the house with guests. There’s formalwear and bling as far as the eye can see. Clutching a bouquet of white roses, peonies, and small blooming branches, Emma and I walk down the aisle together. It’s easier to be brave in the face of all the attention with her striding along, setting the pace. In front of an officiant Matías and Beck stand, waiting for us. We’re side by side, despite tradition, which is nice. But as Matías and Emma take their places, it leaves me lined up directly in front of Beck.
And the look on Beck’s face is everything. It’s love. Nothing more and nothing less.
As for me, emotionally I’m a mess. I know the day and the moment is meant to be all about Emma and Matías, but I can’t help this and I wouldn’t stop it if I could. Beck’s somehow become my whole damn world and the way he’s watching me makes me think I just might be his too. My heart hammers, battering against my rib cage. The sensation of falling in love with him is terrifying and wonderful all at once. I don’t hear the words that are spoken around me. Don’t think to clap and cheer when the happy couple kiss. It had to have been a beautiful ceremony because Emma doesn’t do things in half. And despite all of the bickering, she and Matías seem to be deeply in love. They were certainly unable or unwilling to move on from each other.
But again, none of it matters. I stand opposite the man of my dreams and just stare. Guess I believe in the real thing in under a month after all. Because there it is, right in front of me. All that I want and need. When people start moving forward to congratulate the still married couple, Beck comes to me.
“You’re doing it again,” he whispers in my ear, hand sliding beneath the fall of my hair to cradle the nape of my neck. “You look at me like that, beloved, and I have nothing.”
“You’ve got me.”
“No, Alice. You’ve got me. The good and the bad and everything in between.” His lips brush against my earlobe, his breath warm. “Don’t let me go, okay?”
“Never.”
“I’m going to hold you to that.”
Waiters move through the crowd with champagne and sparkling water. Beck grabs us two glasses of the first and the party begins. Music plays and people mingle and it’s wonderful. How could it not be with him at my side and my cleavage so perfectly displayed by the notched lapels and V-neck of this dress? Sometimes getting the girls out there and up there makes everything better. Not that I’m at risk of falling out. Rachel’s stylists know their job. Still, wrangling the Spanx when I need to go to the toilet is a chore. Along with ignoring the women ahead of me discussing my various flaws when I was standing right there. I’m apparently a vicious bitch out to suck Beck and his family dry. Like I even have those sort of energy levels. One swore she’d met me and I was nothing more than the low-class, fat-assed bimbo you’d expect. Nothing I haven’t heard before. But seriously—what is it about bathroom visits that brings out the worst in people? Why can’t we all just pee and live as one?
Though the look on their faces when they saw me was rather comical. Pretty sure I could take them, but like a true lady I refrain from starting a brawl in the bathroom line. Jane Austen would be so proud of me. What do some people find such joy in hating? In the thrill of being cruel?
Actually, I don’t want to know.
Tables are set up in a lavish white tent with heaters outside on the patio. A selection of food trucks arrive serving Korean-Mexican fusion, Brazilian street food, specialty grilled cheese