by Liz Botts
“I’m not messing with you,” I said. “You’re right. It’ll be cute. And fun. I want my wedding to be fun.”
Chapterette Fourteen
“What is this place? It looks like a reception hall,” Beau said in a hushed voice.
“I assure you this establishment hosts rehearsal dinners.” My grandmother slipped her arm through his and pulled him ahead of me into the opulent space.
I hung back, looking around as our family members streamed in around me. Despite our requests for a small, intimate rehearsal dinner, my grandmother had invited many distant relatives on every side of the family that we hadn’t even invited to the wedding. She justified her actions by saying that at least these people would get a chance to see us before our big day.
A massive gold and crystal chandelier dominated the small space. I was pretty sure that this place also served as a reception hall, but given the crowding in the lobby, I didn’t doubt that other events took place here as well. There were thick brocade curtains draped along the walls for sound proofing, and it gave the room a faux medieval feel. This place seemed just like my grandmother’s taste.
With a deep breath I entered the room. My grandmother was already at a podium, tapping on a microphone. As she began to talk, I slipped out of the room again, as I realized that I was actually afraid to hear what she had to say.
“Elle! What is the meaning of this?”
I squeezed my eyes shut tight, and turned toward Beau’s grandmother. She stopped inches from me, waving one of the wedding programs in my face. My heart sank. I knew what this was about.
“How could you let them print my name as John?”
“I’m so sorry. We’ll figure out how to make the necessary changes,” I said. “And speaking of john, I’m sorry, but I really have to find the restroom right now.”
Grandma Matthews turned five shades of red. The ombre effect on her face was oddly beautiful, but I didn’t stick around to wait for the fallout.
As I scurried away I heard her spluttering. “Did Elle just make a joke out of this? I can’t believe that!”
The ladies’ room had a lounge area, and I gratefully sank onto one of the chairs, leaned back, and pinched the bridge of my nose. I only had to get through the wedding tomorrow; after that things would be smooth sailing.
“Oh, sorry.” I opened my eyes to see a tall woman with long black hair and the highest heels ever at the door.
I shook my head. “No problem. I’m just hiding from my crazy family.”
She laughed, her teeth flashing in a wide smile. “Are you here for a rehearsal dinner too?”
“Yeah. Is your wedding tomorrow?” I pulled open my purse, and found my lip gloss. Something about this girl made me want to primp a little.
“No. Ours is next week. We’re doing the rehearsal early so that my grandparents could attend.” The girl paused so she could reapply her mascara. “So… how did you and your fiancé meet?”
I toyed with the lid of the lip gloss, clicking it open and closed. “In college. At church.” I shrugged. “I used to be friends with his sister. You know, nothing earth shattering. What about you?”
“We met online. I know, I know, everyone thinks it’s too cheesy for words. Actually it was so romantic. I totally knew he was the one even before we met in person.”
“That’s so sweet,” I said. “I’ll just be glad when all this is over. My family is driving me crazy.”
“Oh, that’s too bad. I don’t think I could have done any of this without my family. I mean, sure my mom and my sisters drive me nuts, but they’ve made the whole wedding planning process something I’ll cherish forever.” The girl flashed me a smile before reapplying her lipstick.
Under normal circumstances I might have found her words cloying, but tonight they echoed what Beau had said about finding the good in the imperfections. As she closed her purse and headed toward the door, she said goodbye. I wanted to wish her good luck, but she was already gone.
I sat there for a few more minutes letting the encounter sink in. When I stood up I felt lighter, like I wanted to embrace all of this craziness swirling around me.
Chapterette Fifteen
My eyes were covered with crust as I cracked them open at the sound of my alarm. Four-thirty. Not even light out yet. Why on earth had I decided to start my wedding day before dawn? I had been up far too late last night finishing the favors for the reception. They were perfect though, sitting in a wicker basket beside my front door.
I climbed out of bed, padded to the bathroom, and peered at myself in the mirror. The craptastic hair would be fixed at the salon. My red eyes would be easily solved with some allergy drops. I wrinkled my nose at the dark bags under my eyes, a direct result of staying up too late. Oh well, makeup would surely hide the worst of it.
Today was my day. I didn’t have to worry about anyone else but Beau. Last night after the rehearsal dinner, he had made me promise to put everything else but us out of my mind. I knew it would be hard, but for the sake of my and Beau’s sanity, I knew I needed to try my best. Ugh. I sounded like a little Mary Sue fan fiction character.
Despite the fact that I had promised my darling fiancé that I would try to focus on the two of us, my mind kept wandering to all the other people involved in our wedding. We should have eloped, just us and a justice of the peace on top of a mountain somewhere. Then we could have thrown a huge reception on our terms. I wondered if other people had these kinds of thoughts. Not cold feet but just a huge desire to chuck the whole big event.
A knock at the front door sent me hurrying into my robe, and off to see who would dare bother me at this awful hour. Peeking through the keyhole, I saw my future sister-in-law Rita’s smiling face as she gazed around the hallway. Seriously?
I cracked the door slightly. “Hey, Rita. What’s up?”
“Oh my, did I wake you?” she asked, pushing the door open further. As she shoved by me into the entryway, I noticed that she carried a basket on her arm.
“Um, no, but seriously, Rita, what are you doing here?” Despite my mini epiphany that I wanted to have a fun wedding, this was not on my agenda. Early morning anything seemed somehow torturous.
“We’re here to help you get ready, silly. That’s what bridesmaids do.”
“We?” I peered past Rita into the hallway, and sure enough, up the stairs trouped Beau’s other sisters, Margot and Janelle, followed by Katie and a grumbling Evie. Well, this was special.
As the others crowded into my apartment, Rita headed into the kitchen to start breakfast. “We only have three hours before we have to report to the salon. That’s just enough time for facials and breakfast. Remember, ladies, we all need to eat heartily. Who knows if we’ll even get the chance to grab lunch?”
Heartily? Really? “Thanks for all this, Rita, but do you really think this is all necessary?”
She looked me square in the eye. “Absolutely. We take our bridesmaids’ duties seriously. This is like your big game, you know?”
I gave a noncommittal shrug, unsure how the largest football game of the year had anything to do with my wedding. It wasn’t a battle or a competition. Margot had set up the facials in the living room, and had already applied a gooey mask to Katie and Evie by the time I finished talking to Rita.
“Just sit over there, Elle,” Margot instructed. “I’ll get you next. Just as soon as I finish with Janelle.”
I caught Katie’s gaze, and arched my eyebrows at her. If she’d been any kind of friend she would have warned me about the impending invasion at the rehearsal dinner last night. Traitor. She grinned at me, like she knew exactly what I was thinking. Then for good measure, she stuck her tongue out at me. The gesture made me giggle, and I could feel the stress melt away.
Chapterette Sixteen
In spite of the insanely early wake up and the subsequent invasion, I found myself much more relaxed right before the ceremony than I had expected. The salon had been fun. We’d sat around eating scones and drinking expensi
ve coffee while we had our nails done. My hair looked lovely and easy even though the entire effort had taken two full hours. Half up with tiny braids coiled around the crown of my head with loose curls falling over my shoulders, I felt every bit as beautiful as I had hoped to be on the day of my wedding.
Now as I waited in the bride’s room for my cue to head to the sanctuary, I wondered what would await me there. We had invited mainly family and friends, but several of our parents’ friends had made the guest list as well.
I tried to focus on the thought of marrying Beau, not the myriad of people who would be staring at me in a matter of moments, all with different opinions about this marriage. There was a knock at the door, and a second later my stepfather, Paul, poked his head around the door.
“You ready, kiddo?”
My throat closed as an enormous lump formed. Was I? How could I answer that question honestly? I was ready to be married to the love of my life. We knew in our hearts that God had meant for us to meet. The rest of this circus, though? Not so much. If I had any guts I would have insisted to Beau that we run away last night, and elope. To Vegas or someplace like it. The only problem with that plan was that I wanted to get married in my own church before the eyes of God.
I said a quick prayer, and almost instantly felt a sense of peace wash over me. I realized none of this hoopla mattered. The people who threw their opinions around like they knew what was right for our lives were inconsequential. This commitment was between me and Beau and God.
With a shaky smile, I took Paul’s arm and let him lead me into the hallway. Inside the church I could hear the pianist begin the opening strains of Pachabel’s Canon in D. Even when I picked it the song had seemed cliché, but at least it wasn’t the traditional wedding march. I gave us some credit for that. Before we walked in, I turned to my stepfather.
“Hey, Dad, thanks for sharing this with Walter. This wasn’t the original plan.”
Paul smiled and kissed my forehead. “I understand. I’m just honored to be part of your special day.”
There were so many more things I wanted to say to him. A bubble of thanks was pushing its way up my throat, but right then the usher opened the door and we stepped into the church. At the juncture of the aisle, Paul and Walter shook hands, and Walter walked me the rest of the way down the aisle. I focused on Beau waiting for me. The second Walter released my arm, I felt a wave of relief. At the last minute my grandmother had pleaded with me to let Walter walk me to Beau. It had seemed so important to her that I had agreed. Sure it hadn’t been the way I wanted or planned, but it had been okay.
Beau leaned down and whispered, “You look gorgeous.”
I felt a flush of heat on my neck, and hoped that my veil hid my blush from the guests.
The ceremony passed in a blur, concluding with the remarks of my priest as he said, “I’ve known Beau and Elle for years, and I can’t imagine a better couple. I know these two will have a long, happy marriage built on trust in each other and in God. Their faith led them to one another, and their faith will continue to lead them in their marriage.”
As we exited the church, everyone began to blow the bubbles we had provided. They sparkled daintily in the afternoon sunlight. Just as I was thinking what a lovely time I was having, Evie let out a whoop.
“Now it’s time to party!”
My mom shushed her just as the photographer snapped a shot of the scene. Perfect. My sister’s insanity immortalized forever with my mom getting irritated.
Chapterette Seventeen
“Stand there,” the photographer said in an irritated tone. He grabbed the train of my dress and tossed it onto a pile of damp leaves.
I trembled in the chilly air. The sun had ducked behind a cloud, and the photographer had snatched my cape. He had refused to let me wear it during our photo session, even though we were outside and the wind was picking up. Now my dress was getting muddy.
The bridesmaids crowded around me for another posed photo that was intended to appear candid. Evie leaned a little too close, getting right in front of me. Just as I was about to shove her annoying little butt out of the way, the photographer dismissed them.
“We’ll see you at the reception!” Evie said in a sing-song voice as she jumped into the bridesmaids’ waiting limo.
My relief felt palpable, almost like it was radiating in the air all around me. Having said goodbye to his groomsmen, Beau jogged over to join me. After a quick kiss, he whispered, “Are you ready to blow this popsicle stand? You look zapped. The ride to the reception should be relaxing, right?”
I smiled up at him, amazed that he was such sensitive man. Slipping my arm through his, my heart felt much lighter as we walked toward our limo.
“I’m not done with you two,” the photographer called.
My spirits dropped. I didn’t know how much longer I could stand this guy, and he’d be around through the whole reception.
“What else do you need?” Beau asked. “We want to get to the reception.”
The photographer let out an irritated breath. “You marked on your info card that you wanted a picture by the limo. I’ll just get the glasses and champagne.”
“I don’t drink,” I said. With most people I got raised eyebrows or some smattering of questions — were my reasons personal or religious — but the photographer only laughed.
“Of course you do,” he said. Without another word he turned toward his car, and hurried off.
“I’m not drinking any champagne,” I said, though Beau already knew.
Before my husband had a chance to respond, the photographer came back. He thrust two champagne glasses at me, and a bottle of champagne at us. “First, we’ll get a pic of you guys pouring the champagne, then we’ll do the linked arms one. After that I’ll let you do a goofy one by the limo. Your choice.”
The love of my life obediently opened the champagne bottle while I held out the glasses. I plastered a smile on my face. After a few clicks of the camera, we linked arms, and mimed drinking so the photographer could get his shot.
Then he said, “Now take a sip so I can get that on film.”
I dry heaved just at the thought. “I can’t, I…”
“Just do it, please. We’re on a very tight schedule,” the photographer said. The irritation in his voice made me cringe.
I could just pretend. That way I could avoid a confrontation with the photographer over something trivial. Despite my annoyance with his demeanor, I wanted the experience to be pleasant, and he would be photographing us at the reception as well.
Beau and I leaned against the back of the limo, and tipped our glasses up. Only I tipped mine too fast, and the bubbly liquid spilled into my mouth. Immediately, I started to cough and sputter. Jumping away from the limo, I raced to a nearby bank of bushes, and heaved the contents of my lunch out onto the bare branches.
When my beloved caught up with me and held my hair back, I gasped. The taste of vomit mingled with the intense flavor of the champagne. When my stomach righted itself, I stood so I could inspect my dress. Fortunately I had been quick enough to not get anything on me.
“Can you grab me a bottled water from the limo?” I asked my husband. He nodded and ran to grab me one.
“I’m sorry, Elle. I should have stood up to that jerk. I didn’t think it would be so intense.” Beau handed me the water, and shielded me with his body while I took a swig and spit into the bushes. Well, there’d be no kissing in the limo now. At least my toothbrush would be in my toiletry bag at the reception.
“I just shouldn’t have done it,” I said as we settled back in the limo. “Ugh. I should have known something like that would happen.”
Beau laughed. “Let’s just go. The reception will be a blast. Plus we get to ditch Wonder-Lens over there for a full forty-five minutes.”
“Sounds too good to be true.” I smiled, although my lips still felt shaky from throwing up. “Let’s go.”
Beau pressed his forehead against mine, not caring about my nasty
breath or my trembling muscles. He kissed the tip of my nose before pulling me into a tight hug.
As the limo pulled out onto the street, I settled back into the cushy seat and decided to enjoy the ride.
Chapterette Eighteen
Janelle met us at the door. “You aren’t going to be happy with the cake,” she said bluntly.
My stomach twisted into a knot, and I dry heaved. Beau leaned close to my ear. “Don’t worry about it. Just remember that this is a party. No one cares what the cake looks like as long as it tastes good, okay?”
I twisted my mouth into a tight pucker so I wouldn’t say anything snarky. Beau knew me too well. He was being more than understanding about my emotional drama.
We entered the reception hall where our guests were already mingling and enjoying appetizers. My stomach rumbled as I caught a whiff of some delicious smell. The room was decorated exactly like we wanted. All in all I felt good. And then I saw it. The cake was set up on a table in the center of the dance floor, right near the DJ booth. A yellow spotlight hung directly over it, illuminating the monstrosity for all to see. And it was horrible.
I gripped Beau’s hand tightly as I led him to examine the mess. “I knew this would happen. Especially after they broke our topper.”
Beau looked a little green as he examined the cake with me. The top tier, which we had requested be traditional fall themed, prominently featured a large, deranged- looking turkey with crossed eyes and garish tail feathers. What I could only assume were leaves decorated the side of the cake immediately below the turkey, looking suspiciously like brightly colored turkey poop.
The cupcakes were just as bad with all sorts of toppers that did not match in the least. Some were leaves, some had pumpkins, and others had scarecrow faces that resembled a horror movie villain.
“These better taste good or I’m suing that ridiculous bakery,” I said. A bitter taste flooded my mouth as I seethed at the thought of my wedding being ruined by something as ridiculous as a cake. Seeming to read my mind, Beau pulled a smile.
