The bride’s voice trembles the slightest bit while she’s in the middle of her vows, but she recovers quickly and, with a resplendent smile, is able to finish without crying.
The guests follow the celebration of love in moved silence while the mother of the bride’s sobs can be heard in the background.
The only hiccup comes when the best man has to be nudged by his fellow groomsman to bring the rings forward. Apparently, he was too busy staring at one of the bridesmaids—me—to realize his big moment had come.
How do I feel about it all?
So confused.
Weddings are too emotional. I shouldn’t be forced to reflect on my love life while attending one.
The way Archie is staring at me, he could ask me to be his casual fling for the rest of our lives and I’d gladly say yes. That’s why I have to avoid him at all costs. Tomorrow morning the party will be over. Winter and Logan will go on their honeymoon. My parents will head back to Pasadena. And Archie will be off to Berkley, out of my life for good. I have to resist twenty-four hours, tops. I can do it.
It’s easy to avoid him in the melee that follows the happy couple out of the chapel. Two groups form outside, ready to throw rice at the bride and groom as they exit the church. I make sure Archie and I are on opposite sides.
Before moving to the reception, we have to pose for a few pictures. But it’s all very orchestrated: bridesmaids on one side, groomsmen on the other, now only the bride and bridesmaids, groom and groomsmen, let’s switch it up, bring the parents in, and we’re done. No occasion to talk.
Next, the reception. The weather has been nice, allowing for the lunch to be served outside.
The party will take place on a portion of estate opposite to the vineyard. This patch of green, short-cut lawn is enclosed by tall, majestic trees—a clearing in a magical forest straight out of a storybook. The seating area has been staged to perfection: a rectangular raised stage under a white pole structure resembling a house with no walls. Crystal chandeliers dangle from the high middle pole, and white canvas with wide gaps between them serve as a roof. Long, rectangular tables fill the entire space, each decorated with green and white flower centerpieces and lined by King Louis XVI chairs with an oval back, white upholstery, and a natural wooden structure.
It’s what I imagine happily ever after looks like, which only serves to remind me why Archie and I can’t be together. Because I want this for myself one day. The fable wedding, to be the princess at the ball. But, most of all, I want a man who loves me so completely to want to spend the rest of his life with me, and to not be afraid to pledge that love in front of all our friends and family.
Family. That’s the other, more important reason. I want one of my own. A husband. Kids. The white fence. And the cat—no offense to dog lovers.
And Archie can give me none of those things. We’re Monica and Richard from Friends; I want kids, he doesn’t. I just have to be strong and stay away from him, and hope one day my Chandler will come along.
Just another few hours. I can be strong.
The seating arrangements are on my side. Inside the wall-less house, the wedding party table is laid parallel to the short side of the rectangular dais while the other tables are perpendicular to it. The bride and groom are seated in the middle. Archie is on Logan’s right, and I’m on my sister’s side two spots down. Unless I lean forward, I can’t even see the best man, which is great.
I’ve been so lost inside my head that it isn’t until the second starter that I notice the person sitting next to me. And I notice him only because he asks me if I could pass him the bread basket.
I mean, I knew Lana had a plus one, and who the plus one was. But how the hell did I not notice I’ve been sitting next to Christian Slade for the past half hour? I swear he wasn’t here when I sat down and, okay, I’ve been doing my best to stare the other way, but Penelope, his assistant, must’ve conjured him out of thin air.
I hand him the bread basket, trying not to blush. And not because he’s the celebrity actor who I’ve had a crush on since his first movie came out. But because this is the man who found Lana crying in a hotel closet after she’d discovered the affair I was having with her boyfriend.
With every new person I meet that knows about The Mistake, fresh shame engulfs me, and I’m brought back to that dark spot in my past filled only with self-loathing.
He takes the bread basket from me and nods a thanks. “Summer, right?” he says.
I nod.
“I’m Christian,” he says, needlessly.
“Er… nice to meet you?” It comes out as a question, because I’m not clear where this man’s opinion of me lands. Also, we both have our hands full—his with a bread bun, and mine with the fork and knife I’ve just picked up—so we don’t have to shake.
Christian breaks off a piece of bread without bringing it to his mouth. “I always wondered how I’d feel about meeting you.”
He has been wondering about me? I’m too stunned to reply, so he continues. “On one hand, you hurt Lana in a way no one deserves to be hurt.” I lower my gaze, fresh shame engulfing me. “On the other, if it weren’t for you, I would’ve never met her…”
As per my new policy of not shying away from my mistakes, I own up to it. “What I did to her was inexcusable. And I don’t know where she found the strength to forgive me. I’m only glad something good came out of it all. She’s really happy with you, and all I ask is that you give me the benefit of the doubt.”
Before he can reply, Lana pops her head forward.
“Hey, what are you two whispering about?”
Christian lowers his tone even further. “I was asking Summer for skincare advice.” Now I’m even more stunned that Christian Slade, People’s Magazine Sexiest Man Alive six times in a row, knows what I do for a living. “I have to beat Hollywood’s ageism, ya know?”
Lana rolls her eyes. “Don’t worry, your skin is more glowing than mine.” She wrinkles her nose and, looking at me, she adds, “So annoying.”
When Lana turns away again, Christian gives me a small, imperceptible nod that I receive as, “You get the benefit of the doubt once, but hurt my girl again and you’ll end up on my shit-list forever.”
I nod back, projecting, “Thank you, and I won’t screw up again, I’ve learned my lesson.”
***
The second course is cleared out and, before the wedding cake is presented, it’s time for the speeches. Logan makes one. My sister sticks to a short thank-you message; she’s always hated public speaking. And then it’s the best man’s turn.
Archie stands up and takes the microphone, giving me an excuse to watch him while he can’t stare back for longer than a few moments, not unless he wants to make his speech very awkward.
He doesn’t have a written script, and begins his address to the crowd off the cuff. “Logan and I have known each other since we were eighteen and by some lucky twist of fate ended up sharing a freshman dorm room. I have to say, when I first stepped inside and saw this prepped-up kid in his ironed shirt, he was so prim I wondered if he pressed his pajamas, too, and if we could ever become friends.”
Archie pauses and makes a theatrical frown, allowing the audience to chuckle at his engaging anecdote. “Luckily, as the days passed, his stock of home-ironed clothes ran out and his gear became as crumpled and wrinkled as that of any other respectable college kid.” Another short pause to collect laughs. “But what sealed the deal was when I came home the week after orientation and found him sleeping on his bed with his mouth open and drooling on the pillow, a bag of Doritos at his side, crumbs all around him, and his white T-shirt stained by the orange imprint of many fingertips. That’s when I knew we could be friends for life.”
More laughs. Gosh, I hate that he’s such a showman and that everyone in the room is eating out of his hand. Especially the ladies, I can’t help but notice, with a bitter aftertaste in my mouth. If he wants to substitute me for someone else, he�
�ll have his pick tonight. A snap of the fingers and they’ll all fall at his feet, just like I did. But it’s not his fault for being who he is. I’d been warned, and chose to ignore the alarm bells. If I have to deal with a broken heart right now, I’ve no one to blame but myself.
“I guess for Winter and Logan it’s been the same,” Archie carries on. “Not a case of love at first sight here, folks.” The people in the audience who know about Winter and Logan’s insta-hate past laugh, including me. The first time my sister described the groom to me, she called him Satan.
“But it didn’t take them much to discover they shared more than they initially thought,” Archie continues. “Only the archeological discovery of the century, being trapped in an ancient tomb together, escaping a bunch of trigger happy lunatics through the jungle, and having to save my life along with everybody else’s on that expedition. Easy, right? Well, not exactly, because my boneheaded friend almost blew it at this point”—Archie stares at me, making a breath catch in my throat—“by not saying how he really felt.”
His gaze lingers on me another second before moving away, and I can breathe again. “He could’ve lost her, but, thankfully, only two international flights later, he managed to right his mistake and profess his undying love. I wasn’t there to witness the event, but I was told begging was involved.” Again, everyone laughs. “And now here we are. Logan, my friend, today you’re the luckiest man on Earth to have convinced this amazing woman to be with you for the rest of your lives. I wish you joy and happiness, and that your love will go on as strong as today until the end of times.”
The crowd awwwws, and a few helpless romantic tears are shed around the room. “And before I begin to sound too much like a movie soundtrack, I’d better wrap this up.” Archie raises his champagne flute. “To the bride and groom.”
The audience explodes with booming applause.
Twenty-four
Summer
I surf unscathed through the cutting of the cake. The traditional moment takes place in a spot further down the lawn where the cake is awaiting Winter and Logan under a gazebo—a wrought-iron structure covered in green leaves and white flowers, following the same theme as the other flower arrangements. Again, there are enough people around to ensure a big buffer between Archie and me. With the guests forming a large semicircle around the gazebo, I can hide in the crowd and follow the event from the sidelines.
Distances, however, thin considerably as we head to the dance-floor—back in the wall-less house where tables have been removed to clear a space in its center—for the first dance.
But being demoted to simple bridesmaid has the added benefit of me being paired with Tucker for the last of the wedding party’s duties. And if I sneak off stage the second the song is over, I can disappear in the crowd again and not have to face Archie.
With this determination in mind, I find Tucker, steer him to the opposite side of the dance-floor to where Lana and Archie are standing, and wait for the first song to start. The notes of Ed Sheeran’s Perfect soon fill the air, and I have to work hard at keeping the waterworks in check as my sister and Logan walk on stage hand in hand and begin to waltz. The bride and groom can’t take their eyes off each other, and they look so unabashedly happy my chest tightens.
And then I make my first mistake; I look up and find Archie’s eyes, and my heart squeezes even harder.
The first chorus ends, our cue to enter the dance-floor. Tucker and I join hands and I let him lead. As my dancing partner twirls me around, my eyes search for those of the man who has stolen my soul. We meet and lose each other’s gazes again at each turn in a vortex of emotions until the song ends.
My plan to flee forgotten, I remain on the dance-floor, breathless, staring at him. Tucker leaves me to go grab Penny from the crowd and lead her on for the second dance. Similarly, all other couples break and reshuffle. Winter is to dance with our father, Logan with Mom. And when Christian claims Lana for himself, the best man is free to close the distance between us, imprison my body in his arms, and spin me round to the center of the stage.
All of Me from John Legend begins to play next.
Why did my sister have to pick the most romantic songs on the planet?
My heart can’t take any more strong emotions; it’s already been battered and crushed too many times. I’m so ruinously in love with this man holding me, it’s ridiculous. I can’t bear the thought of having to say goodbye to him tomorrow. Of never seeing him again. I search Archie’s eyes for a clue he feels the same, and his gaze seems to promise everything his mouth still hasn’t said.
A small flame of hope lurks in my chest, but I squash it down. I can’t get carried away again. For all I know, this could be just a beautiful goodbye for him.
The song ends and, before I can do or say anything, Archie scoops me up into his arms and carries me off the dance-floor and over to a wooden bench hidden in the trees surrounding the lawn.
I’m holding on to him, my fingers laced behind his neck. And as we sit down, I don’t let go. Archie sits and scoots me closer to him with one arm, while his other hand moves up to cup my cheek.
Eyes as intense as ever, he whispers, “I love you, Summer, and I’m not ready to let you go. Whatever it takes.”
For a moment, the words catch in my throat and I can’t speak. I gulp down a sob, and, in a trembling voice, I say, “I love you, too. But—”
Archie presses a finger to my mouth. “No buts.”
I free one of my hands from behind his neck and put it over the hand covering my mouth. I kiss his fingertips and push the hand down, saying, “But because I love you, I can’t force you into something you don’t want. Even if we could make it work at first, one of us would have to go against our wishes in the end. And I would never do that to someone I love.”
“Summer, I’ve been stupid. I had no idea what I wanted before you showed me. I always thought marriage wasn’t for me, that I would never find a woman I needed by my side every day, but you are that woman, Summer Knowles.”
“How can you be sure? How can you change your mind so radically in just a week?”
Archie bows his head for a second as if to collect his thoughts, then raises his gaze again. “In the past, I’ve never felt anything more than a fleeting attraction for the women I’ve been with. And even in the strongest cases, it burned away quickly, a few weeks at most—”
“We haven’t known each other for more than a week.” I’m being pushy, but if I’m going to open my heart again, I need to be positive he means what he’s saying. Because he’s the one man who could crush it so thoroughly there would be no coming back. “How can you be sure this will be any different? That your infatuation won’t just disappear?”
“Because yesterday”—he puts a hand over his chest—“when you left me at the restaurant, I was in physical pain. I couldn’t breathe, Summer, not being able to hold you, to kiss you.” He emphasizes the need with a brief touch of his lips on mine. “It drove me crazy. I’ve never felt that way about anyone or anything. I can’t lose you.”
“But last night—”
Archie scoffs, interrupting me. “Last night we had exactly two conversations. You were unreasonable for the first one, and a randy drunk for the second.”
I gasp in mock offense. “Who are you calling a randy drunk?”
The best man grins. “Hey, I’ll take randy over sad or angry any day.”
I hide my face in the nook of his shoulder. “How can you still want to be with me after the way I behaved?”
“Because I love you, all of you. I love unreasonable you. I love randy drunk you. And I love regular you most of all. Listen, I know it won’t be super easy right off the bat. I will have to find a job in LA—”
This time it’s me silencing him with a hand over his mouth. I search his eyes again for any sign this is a trick, but only find sincerity in them. “You’ve really thought about this. You’d give up your job for me?”
I lower my hand so he can speak.
Archie scratches the back of his head. “To be honest, the way things are going I’ll need to find a new job soon, anyway. Tucker is quitting next month. And Logan will cut back on the travels as soon as his work in Thailand is completed. And if he’s not with me, I’m done, too. Wouldn’t be the same.”
Doubts assail me again. “Is that what this is? Your life is falling apart, and you’re getting attached to me as an anchor?”
“No, no, no, and no. I’m in love with you, and even if everything stayed the same, I’d move to LA in a heartbeat.”
“That’s a pity,” I say, and his face falls. So I smirk, and add, “Because I don’t want to stay in LA. There’s nothing left for me there.” Archie’s eyes shine with hope again. “I started looking for jobs in San Francisco the moment Winter told me she was moving up here.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, I have a couple of interviews scheduled for next week.”
He pulls me closer and kisses me again. “So, it’s settled; you can move in with me. I rent a studio apartment, but we can search for something bigger or closer to your office once you find a new job. We can find a yoga studio and keep doing Acro together. And I can’t wait to show you all my favorite places in Berkley and San Francisco. It’s perfect.”
Almost, I think. Because so far we’ve talked about everything except the most important question.
I brace myself, and ask, “What about kids?”
Archie goes a little rigid underneath me; I’m still sitting on his lap, and my body stiffens in response.
With the hand that’s not wrapped around my waist, he pushes away a loose strand of hair from my forehead. “For the first time in my life, I can see myself as a father. I even imagined what she’d look like.”
“Who?”
“Our daughter.” My heart starts a raging pounding in my chest. “She’d have your hair and my mother’s nose. She’d be as smart as her mother and as much of a troublemaker as her father. And if we had a boy instead, he’d still be brilliant. And we would love both of them with all our hearts.” He pauses, with a slight frown. “Can I make a request though?”
You May Kiss the Bridesmaid: A Wedding Date Rom Com (First Comes Love Book 6) Page 16
