your standard run-of-the-mill black either, but pure ebony. It seemed I wasn’t the only shocked one, as glancing around the church I saw many mouths hanging open. And honestly, she looked beautiful. In a sacrilegious, I’m ignoring centuries of tradition, it’s my wedding so I’ll do what I want, sort of way.
I kind of admired her. Not that I would want to wear a black dress if I were ever to be married again. But it took some guts to pull it off. There were at least two hundred guests in attendance, so this wasn’t a small-potatoes/on-a-bud-get wedding.
Guests were squirming in an attempt to get a better view. The bride continued up the aisle and, as she got close to me, I could see her eyes were wide and happy. What made me smile, though, was the fact that her lips were twitching.
Oh, my. There was a story here.
Swinging around, I glanced at the woman I assumed was Kevin’s—and therefore, Kevin’s brother’s—mother. She looked unhappy. Okay, huge understatement. The tight pinch of her lips and the iciness of her stare told me she was seriously ticked.
Leaning back in the pew, I saw the groom, and he didn’t seem surprised. At least the bride had let him in on it. Now, I’d been to tons of weddings, but none of them started off with this sort of a bang. I truly hoped I’d get the full story later, because I was dying to know.
The ceremony itself was rather short, but the vows were sweet and meaningful. Kevin, by the way, was absolutely gorgeous in his silvery grey and white tux. Later, at the reception, before we’d even spoken, I noticed many appreciative (and smoldering) looks directed at him. And not all of them by women.
When he finally sat down next to me, I was relieved. I’d begun to feel a bit out of place not knowing anyone.
“You are stunning,” he said. “I’m sorry it took so long to get to you. My mother is livid.”
“What’s with the black dress?”
“Rachel didn’t want a formal wedding. Neither did Keith, my brother. My mom pretty much pushed them into it. This was Rachel’s way of standing up to her.”
I chuckled. “Harsh. She’ll always have the pictures from this day as a reminder. It must have cost a fortune to have the dress made that way.”
Kevin leaned in close and whispered, “My mom paid for the dress. She approved the design, just not the color. In Rachel’s defense, my mother never actually asked her what color it was going to be. Rachel said it was the only thing she didn’t ask about or try to control.”
Controlling mamas are not such a cool thing. I laughed anyway. “I’m sorry, but how absolutely brilliant of your sister-in-law. Keith knew about it ahead of time?”
“Yeah. Rachel was going to choose a pale color, like lavender or something. Keith talked her into black.”
“That’s hilarious. Will your mom forgive her?”
“Someday she’ll laugh at it. My mom’s pretty cool, usually. This was the first wedding in the family, so she went overboard. When I, or my sister, get married and she has the perfect wedding, she’ll cool down.”
I seriously was having difficulty containing myself from congratulating the bride on a job well done. If I were to be in a similar situation, there’s no way I’d be able to pull the same thing off.
“Enough about Keith and Rachel. Did I tell you how beautiful you are?”
“Yes, but you are more than welcome to say it again.” I wore a sheath-style dress in purple, which skimmed my body like flowing water. I felt sexy as hell in it. Judging by the expression on Kevin’s face, he agreed. Score for me.
“Want a drink before they serve dinner?” Kevin asked, his hand on my knee.
“I’d love one.”
The drink went down well. Well enough, in fact, I followed it up with several more. After dinner, when Kevin pulled me onto the dance floor, my legs wobbled. Just a little. His arms came around me, and we danced—this time to actual music. The spicy scent of his cologne, the feel of his embrace, and the buzz from the alcohol all mixed together, leaving me with a happy, fuzzy feeling.
“I want to kiss you,” Kevin whispered. “But if I do, my mother will start planning our wedding.”
“Then you better not kiss me.”
“I can save it for later. But, Elizabeth? You are interested in getting married again someday. Aren’t you?”
Ah. What was the best way to address a