I smile, mentally patting myself on the back, because that gem was a unique reception idea from Six Wacky but Wonderful Wedding Ideas I pinned to the wedding board.
“Okay,” Charlotte says. “Text me if there are any problems.”
“Everything is fine, dear. We’ve got it under control.”
“You sure?” she asks. “I can—”
“Nope,” her mom cuts her off. “You two go relax. Have some wine or something.”
Charlotte leads me out the back and across the expansive lawn to a cute cottage with a covered front porch. Since there’s time to kill before the hair and makeup girls get here, I’d hoped to use the extra time for a Friend Bonding Moment, but once we step foot in the cottage, Charlotte seems determined to use it to have all the freak-outs she didn’t have beforehand.
Oh, dear. Austin was right.
It’s a major meltdown. She paces the wooden floor, and goes from second-guessing the tarot card reader’s love readings to doubting the pink drinks at cocktail hour, to lamenting that she has way too many roses, to wishing she chose fish over chicken, to...
“Is this going to last? What if we Miley Cyrus?” She plops down on the leather settee with sheer panic in her dark eyes.
“What’s that mean? You adopt too many animals?” I walk over to her with caution, because she looks ready to bound out the window. “You do a nude photo shoot before the ceremony? We may have to call the photographer and see if he’s open to an R-rated prelude…”
She sighs and flops onto her back, arms dangling off her chair. “No, you doink. I mean what if we dated successfully for years and years but marriage ruins it and I won’t even get a hit single out of it because I never learned to sing!”
“That doesn’t seem like—”
“Everyone’s going to be looking at me.” She stands and crosses to me with wide eyes, placing her hands on my shoulders. “Why did I let the guest list get so out of hand? There’re so many people. I don’t even like Sal and Marta.”
“There’re only fifty—” I try to reassure her, but she’s lost in a spiral I can’t stop from spinning out of control.
“What if people get chilly in the dining tent?” She whirls around and strides to the window, and I move in front of her to block a potential escape route.
“They won’t. It’s heated, remember? Plus, it’s warm for February. Everything will be perfect.” I point at the window. “Look at the gorgeous weather you’ve been blessed with today. It’s a balmy fifty degrees today. Hardly feels like winter.”
My words are useless. She stares at me and takes it further.
“What if…what if…what if he’s not the one?”
I gasp, wide-eyed. “Charlotte. Listen to me. He is the one.”
“How do you know? How do I know? He’s the only guy I’ve ever dated besides Derek in seventh grade, and I’m not sure going to one movie with Derek’s parents even counts!”
“Stop. Can you see yourself with anyone else?”
“No. I love him.”
And then she cries. Big, ugly sobs. “I don’t deserve him. I was going to let his mom have swollen knuckles. Who does that?”
I wrap her in my arms. “You’re just having a bride breakdown.”
“Maybe we should get married another day?”
This is bad. Austin jinxed me. My one job as the most important bridesperson was to keep the bride calm, and so far, I’m failing. “You know what?” I release her. “I have the solution. In my purse.”
I offer Charlotte a gummy which she immediately jams in her mouth and asks for a second.
“Oh God, no. That will be plenty.”
“They aren’t like hits? Why do they—”
“Make them so delicious? I know, I know.”
“Seriously, give me another. I may hyperventilate. Give it to me now.”
And I do, because I don’t want to be fired and she’s scary. And then I shove two in my mouth since I have no one here to keep me calm. You’d think I’d have learned my lesson, but alas, I’m destined to be that person. The one people gossip about in hushed whispers, wondering how on earth they can keep repeating the same mistakes. That’s me. I’m that girl.
When the gummies hit, Charlotte and I are Extremely High. Higher than the Rocky Mountains high. Much higher than we planned to be. Much too high for a wedding.
“I never realized how tiny you are,” Charlotte says. “Did you shrink? Oh my God, Chloe. What happened to you?” She moves her fingers an inch apart. “You’re like this big.”
I laugh for what seems like forever.
“I need a snack,” Charlotte says, all smiles. “Let’s go find Austin.”
We loop our arms together and head out of the cottage.
“Race you,” Charlotte says, when we near the main house.
“That’s probably not a good idea—” And then I take off to get a head start. But the breeze takes me and I float toward the vegetable garden. I would probably care if I weren’t so high.
“You cheater,” Charlotte laugh-yells, and then I slow down, not that I’m going very fast, but it sure feels like I am, and let her skip past me to win.
“This is perfect,” she says, eyeing the beds, each row identified with signs. “We have snacks. In the soil. Nature provides.”
She tunnels both hands into the dirt until she uncovers a carrot and takes a bite.
“Charlotte,” I say, “put that back. It’s not clean.”
She stops mid-chew. “What if I die?”
I wipe the dirt from her lips. “You would be a beautiful corpse-bride.”
A smidgeon of non-high me remembers my job and I convince Charlotte to stay alive long enough to make it to the building.
Two steps up the back entrance stairs to the kitchen, she sits. “Let’s rest.”
I plop down beside her and grab the rail so I don’t float away. “Such a beautiful day for a wedding,” I say. “Clear blue skies and sunshine.”
“I love you,” Charlotte says. “I just want you to know that. You’re the best friend I could ever want.”
And now it’s my turn to cry. “I love you too. I don’t think anyone else would accept my flaws like you do.”
Tears stream down her cheeks. “Don’t leave me when I get married. I’ve read horror stories of how married people lose their friends.”
“I’d never ever leave you.”
The door opens behind us. “What are you two doing out here?” Austin asks.
Charlotte wipes her face and giggles. “Looking for clean snacks.”
“Snacks? On the steps?”
I try to stand but…I’m stuck. No matter what I do, I can’t unstick myself. “I can’t get up.”
“What?” Charlotte says.
“I am stuck to these stairs.” I wiggle to no avail. “Oh no. I’m going to be here forever.”
“What is going on?” Austin squeezes between us and stands on the landing. “You’re not stuck.”
Charlotte attempts to stand but goes nowhere. “Shit. I’m stuck too.” She grabs the rail and heaves with the effort to unstick herself.
Austin leans in and studies my face. Then Charlotte’s. “Are you high? Please say you’re not.”
“Maybe,” Charlotte says.
“Okay, listen,” he says. “You can’t let the mothers see you like this. They’ll be very upset. And really, can you blame them? This is not good. Not good at all.”
“I’m sorry,” I say. “I was just trying to keep her calm. She was very not calm.”
He comes up with a plan to bring us munchies and send the stylist to our stair location.
Finally, we get the Friend Bonding Moment. Unfortunately, we remain high and stuck, and get our makeup done in the stairwell. Promising extra tips to the poor girl squatting before us in between High Thoughts about makeup and marriage while Austin keeps the moms away.
Ten
To the everlasting thankfulness of Mr. Charlotte-to-be, when it’s almost time to walk down
the aisle, Charlotte and I are just pleasantly relaxed and completely unstuck. This is good for a number of reasons. For one, performing the wedding in the stairwell would have been a kerfuffle that could potentially have indeed caused a Miley. For another…no, that’s really it.
We were able to make it back to the cottage to get changed and after a brief moment of panic, when I saw the loose curls the stylist made in my hair and thought they were snakes, everything went smoothly.
It’s thirty minutes until wedding time when Logan pulls me into the bathroom and locks the door.
“God, you look delectable,” he says. “I need you now just to make it through the night.”
I tiptoe my fingers up his chest. “And how would you like me?”
“Hands on the counter. Now.”
“I love a bossy man.” I turn to brace my hands on the cool marble and watch him in the mirror. He slides my dress up, inch by tantalizing inch, and lets out a hiss.
“No panties. Good girl.” I moan when he runs a hand over the curve and gives it a light spank. “Ah, I see you like that. How do you like this?” He reaches in to circle my clit.
My bottom connects with his hardness, and I rub against him in a teasing twerk. I can Miley too. I am downright brazen. “Mm. I like that a lot.”
“Your pussy makes my mouth water, but we’ll have to save that for later.”
“You don’t want a taste?” I ask, reaching down to touch myself. Turns out High Chloe is super sexed up. “Bury your tongue all the way inside me?” A groan rumbles from him when I bring a finger to my mouth and suck, tasting myself. His eyes never leave mine. “Just one taste? Or maybe just one touch?”
He pinches my nipple through the satin of my dress. “Oh, I definitely want to touch.”
He palms me and I can practically see his pupils dilate. I am a sex goddess.
“Um…just be careful of the hair.” That might seem like an odd thing for a goddess to say, but I do have to walk down the aisle soon. “And it’s probably not a good idea to make me sweat, if that’s possible.”
“God, why are you so fucking irresistible?”
He presses two fingers into me and pauses, closing his eyes and raking his teeth across his bottom lip. It’s so erotic watching him as he touches me from behind, as intensely as if it were his cock. And I wish it was. I press back against him again, and he gets the hint. It only takes a moment for him to free his hardness and roll a condom on, but I’m so impatient.
Then, finally, yes. With one palm on my back and the other on my breast, he rocks in and out of me. A slow retreat and then a hard slam deep into my core. I grip the edge of the counter for leverage and push back against him, meeting his thrusts.
“More,” I beg.
“I want to fist your hair around my hand so fucking badly,” he says. “It’s sex hair.”
What a great compliment. I’m going to send the stylist an extra tip.
“Maybe after the reception,” I offer, because I cannot return with different hair than I left with, as tempting as it may be. Gotta remember the inch line on my arm and not cross that line.
He finds a rhythm that’s fast and raw, frenzied hips and stifled groans. Watching his face in the mirror as he grips my hips, seeing the unabashed pleasure and knowing I’m giving that to him while he slams into me, over and over, takes me to the edge and pushes me over into a blissful orgasmic freefall.
My body tightens and spasms as I clench my jaw to keep from screaming and alerting everyone to our clandestine sex shenanigans.
“Fuck, Chloe.” He pumps faster and then releases with a powerful shudder.
When our bodies calm, he softly kisses my shoulder and slides my dress back down into place.
“Your hair is still perfect.”
“So are you,” I say.
We sneak out, and he gives me a lingering kiss before we go our separate ways.
The chapel is full, my red dress is on straight, and life is good. My gummy gift to Charlotte did not ruin the wedding, and I’d say my job to keep her calm is completed. I succeeded. I didn’t become the villain of the story after all, although I’m starting to suspect that my worst impulses will always be a temptation.
“You look so beautiful, Charlotte,” I say through the sudden tears when I enter our pre-ceremony holding area. “Marry me instead.”
“Don’t make me cry again,” she says, welling up and blinking her faux lashes at a rapid pace. Oh, I forgot to mention the lashes were another blip when she thought they attached spiders to her eyes. Other than that, stellar job performance on my part.
“Yes, don’t make her cry,” her mom says, adjusting the train on Charlotte’s gown. “Because then I’ll cry and then my makeup will be a mess.”
“I’m sorry.” I fan her pretty face. “The sight of Charlotte in her gown and veil overwhelmed me.” The A-line dress with off-the-shoulder sleeves and a sweetheart neckline is exquisite on Charlotte’s lithe frame. From the top of her veil to the bottom of her full layered tulle skirt, she is a queen.
“I said don’t,” her mother hisses and I know where Charlotte gets her scary from now.
Melanie, the Pastures of Plenty event planner, gives a quick clap of her hands. “Okay, wedding people. It’s time to get married.”
She shuffles us into a line. Austin will be first, with Charlotte’s cousin, Dawn, the only other bridesperson. My partner is Gia, the groomslady, because Mr. Charlotte-to-be is also very progressive in his friend-gender-choices. That’s why, with only two weddingpeople each, there’s no particular order to our entrance.
Melanie peeks her head through the double doors and gives a signal to the band. Music filters from the chapel and deep breath—this is really it. Charlotte, my best friend through thick and thin, good times and bad, will be married in less than an hour.
“You’re up, big guy,” Melanie says.
Austin glances over his shoulder and gives a smile before his gaze lands on me. And then he’s gone.
Gia and I step forward, waiting our turn.
“Go,” Melanie whispers. “Remember, walk slow, like you’re in quicksand.”
We step out, and for a split second, I see Austin at the altar waiting and almost—almost—let myself think a dangerous thought. A miniscule fantasy where I’m the one in a white satin gown. As we creep down the aisle, I spot Lucy, near the front, looking glamorous in a pink dress, beaming at him. Then I spot my date. Luckily, Logan chose to do a real James Dean look with a leather jacket over a white T-shirt and his hair slicked back with one curl flopping down on his forehead, so I can just focus on the snack my guy is instead of even considering the other guy.
And…Logan is six months older than Austin, so technically, he came first and therefore can’t be an Austin dupe. He’s the original, so Austin would be the copy of him. Ha. How’s that for reasoning?
When I pass the band, Logan’s gaze travels down my silky red gown in a most inappropriate way. There’s a preacher in our presence. Or a rabbi. Someone official. Regardless, I shouldn’t be grinning back at him like I am, but my lips refuse to stop.
When we reach the top and my groomslady deposits me in the right spot, I’m still grinning at Logan. I might be a little higher than I thought, but I’m standing and my legs are not bacon, so that’s good.
The music starts for Charlotte’s entrance, Canon in D on Ian’s guitar, and everyone stands to face the open doors. There’s a hush when she enters, holding a bouquet of red roses, looking so fantastic. So happy. She glides down the aisle, and I’m not transitioning as quickly as the ceremony is, and I lean over to Dawn and whisper, “Look at the hot guy. The one in the jacket. That one’s mine. Are you jealous?”
Dawn shakes her head.
“Just a little bit? I bet you are. He’s haaawwwt.”
“Chloe!” Austin hisses.
Oh. Oh yeah, I’ve got to be ready to take Charlotte’s bouquet. The one she is waving at people as she makes her way down the rose petal covered aisle at a snail
’s pace. Apparently she’s a little higher than I thought too, stopping to shake people’s hands.
“Hi,” she says when she reaches me. “How was my walk?”
“So good,” I say.
“Scale of one to ten?”
“Ten million.”
Bouquet retrieval is my very important job, which I do with what I believe is an appropriate amount of gravitas, which is a word I roll around in my head for the first portion of the ceremony indeed. The officiant drones on about the sanctity of marriage and when they are saying their vows beneath the chuppah, I’m having a hard time holding back my tears. James delivers a touching and emotional ode to Charlotte and makes lifetime promises that have everyone dabbing at their eyes. And then it’s Charlotte’s turn, and well, she’s definitely higher than I thought.
“Hello,” she says, as they hold hands. “Dear, sweet, kind, caring, sexy, husband-to-be. The man I was meant to marry because you understand my moods and love me anyway. I had vows prepared for this moment. Vows I spent weeks preparing. But…I can’t remember them. Poof, gone. But I remember you, phew. So I’m just going to wing it here.”
“Oh, dear,” Dawn says under her breath. “That’s probably not good.”
I look over at Austin, whose brows have now joined together. There’s a small worry line between them. In my opinion, it’s beautiful to just speak from the heart. It’s more meaningful to just dig into your soul and let it out organically. Or maybe not...
“I’m going to love you and love you and love you,” Charlotte continues and boops his nose. “And then, I’m going to love you some more. You won’t be able to handle all my love.” He grins at her, because he’s perfect for her, and high or not, nonsensical as she may be right now, she’s his dream. “Someday, when we’re old and gray, yes gray. Scary thought, huh? As I was saying, at some point, there will come a time when it’s no longer appropriate to dye our hair, and actually, you may not even have hair by then. Hopefully, I will. If not, I’ll get a wig. Anyway, my point is, I’ll love you so hard, even bald.”
As she continues, my tears flow. “Chloe got me that book about being a bad wife and it was so funny. Remember how I laughed reading it? Well, I may not be the best wife, but I can tell you this. I’ll be the best bad wife you’ll ever have and you’ll be stuck with me and my love. It’s enormous love. Mad love. And that’s really all we need is love. Besides jobs, of course. But my point is, if you lost your job, I’d be upset but we’ll work it out because this thing is permanent. You realize that, right?” He nods, still smiling, letting her ramble on…and on…and on. “So, to sum up, I will do my best to make you the happiest husband in all the land, forever and ever. Amen.”
Winter Bloom (Dating Season Book 4) Page 7
