“What is it?” I asked, pulling her aside.
“I told you it should have been just you and me,” she mumbled gloomily.
“Becky, spill!”
“It’s nothing, just stupid squabbling. You will never
believe
who called. My sister, Maddie,” she filled me in without waiting for a reply. “Can you guess who can all of a sudden be in the wedding?”
“What?” I gasped. “I thought she couldn’t make it.”
“So did I. Now, forty-eight hours before I say my vows, she wants in the bridal party.”
“Well… that’s great news, right?”
“Ha,” she barked a laugh. “Would have been, eight months ago when I asked her. But now? There is no way we can get a dress for her, Shan. No freakin’ way. But my mom is up in arms saying I have to, which means one of the girls—one of the girls
she
had me ask to be in my wedding in the first place, mind you—has to give up their spot.”
I was wide-eyed when she finished. She’d been talking super-fast and it was a lot to take in. “OK, so what’s the game plan?”
“Nothing at the moment. No one wants to give up their spot, not to mention the dress they
paid
for. God, this sucks!” she yelled to no one. “Why does the universe have to screw with me less than forty hours before my wedding day? Why does Maddie have to be such a selfish bee-yatch? First she can’t, which hurt, now she can, which blows for everyone else!”
“You know what you need?” I asked when she paused in her rant.
“A stiff drink?”
I gave her a small smile. “I was thinking more of a double.”
Once we got a drink in her, Becky loosened up a bit. The rhythmic dance music of the club Sensations always helped her to forget her troubles. Well, that and Jose Cuervo. The best thing to do for the time being, I assured her, was to make peace with the girls. She had to let them know that this wasn’t about what
she
wanted, but that her mother was the one insisting on it.
“Oh, I don’t know,” she groaned. “They already hate me. I vote for just glaring at each other all night. It frees up my evening.”
“You sure do like to run away a lot,” I commented.
“What? I do not,” she replied, affronted. “And if I do, it’s just because I’m following your bad example.”
“This is not about me,” I told her firmly. “Now, there’s Emily. Go. Talk. Hug it out.”
“Can’t we do Patrice first?”
“That’s it, I’m cutting you off.” I reached over and plucked her margarita glass from her hand.
“Hey!”
“You’ll get it back when you go talk to your bridal party. Come on, Becky. Your wedding is tomorrow. You
need
these girls behind you.”
“Fine,” she grumbled, lurching unsteadily to her feet. “But I’m not hugging it out with anybody, got it?”
I watched from the bar stool as Becky corralled the girls. When she wanted to be, she could pull off charming quite nicely and I could see it was working for her now, too. Emily
did
try to hug her, but she sidestepped it and patted her on the shoulder instead. Watching it made me giggle into my Amaretto Sour.
“What’s so funny?”
I turned in my seat to see a man watching me. It took me a minute to place him, but when I did, I recognized him as our senior class president. “Hey, Bobby! I’m sorry, I didn’t see you there!”
“It can’t be Shana!” he exclaimed. “I didn’t even know you were back in town! How long are you staying this time?”
“Um, actually,” I took another sip of my drink. “I’m here for good. I’ve moved back to uh, help my mom.”
“Well, that’s great! How are you liking it? Everything the same as you remember?”
“Yeah, pretty much.”
“Do you remember how our whole class would go to the old burger joint for a malt and fries after class sometimes?”
“Of course I remember! I gained ten pounds that year!” I giggled.
“Well, looks like you’ve lost it now,” he said with what I thought was a leer.
I shouldn’t have been caught off guard; everyone knew he was quite the playboy, but I stammered in surprise even so. “Oh, um…”
“You know, they’re still there. We could go sometime, you and me. If you wanted. We could get caught up, and…” He reached over and tried to grab my hand, but I snatched it away.
“Bobby Larson! You should be ashamed of yourself! I was at your wedding! And didn’t you just have a baby?” I demanded.
He hung his head in his hands. “Don’t remind me. That brat never shuts up and to tell you the truth, it doesn’t look a damn thing like me.”
“I wonder if you’d want your wife to hear you talk like that?”
“Ha,” he snorted. “I’m not saying anything to you that I haven’t said to her face.”
I was staring at him in bewilderment when I heard Becky speak up from behind me.
“Run along home, Bobby, before Clarissa wises up to the rare breed of ass that you belong to.”
He narrowed his eyes at her. “Becky, that you? Hey, you’re looking
good
, girl.”
“Don’t I know it,” she quipped with a toss of her head that made me laugh. “Now, scram.”
With a disgruntled sound and a glare in her direction, Bobby pushed his chair back, paid his tab and walked away.
“Can you
believe
he was so popular in high school?”
“He peaked,” she observed as she took the seat next to me.
“See, that’s exactly why I’m not married. Did you hear what he said about his baby?”
“I’m sorry,
that’s
why you’re not married?”
“One of the reasons, I guess.” I shrugged a shoulder, sipping my drink.
“And you don’t think your lack of a wedding ring has anything to do with the fact that you’re still hung up on somebody else?”
There it was: my chance to get her to talk about Brody. I’d been waiting for an opening, but I’d rather wait and hope for a better one. “C’mon, Becky.”
“Did you ever stop to think, even for just a moment that maybe the reason you date these men, knowing it’ll never work out, is because you secretly don’t want it to?”
“Seriously? That’s ridiculous.”
“Shan—”
“Let’s not do this tonight, OK? This is your night. If we’re talking about any guy, it should be Seth.” I couldn’t miss the way her eyes lit up when I mentioned his name. “How is he, anyway? Nervous?”
“Seth doesn’t get nervous. That’s part of why I like him so much.” She said
like
with so much warm emphasis I knew what she meant was
love
.
“Besides which, he adores you,” I prompted, glad to have changed the subject.
“Without question,” she grinned. “He’d do anything for me—and has.”
Before I could ask what she meant, I caught sight of Patrice out of the corner of my eye and realized the girls were right behind me. “You made up?” I mouthed to Becky, directing her attention to our posse. She smiled and tossed me a wink before turning toward her bridesmaids.
Chapter Five
The day of the wedding dawned beautiful and bright. I knew, because the minute the sunlight hit the window, I awoke, groaning and burying my eyes in my pillow, where it was nice and dark.
“Come on,” Becky said, yawning. “We have to get up.”
We’d come to my house after we’d left the club last night, crashing on my queen bed just like old times. We were a tangle of limbs right now and I wasn’t entirely sure where I started and Becky ended. At least, I wasn’t until her elbow jabbed me in the side.
“Ow! What was that for?” I whimpered.
“
Up
,” she ordered.
“You sure are chipper,” I grumbled sarcastically.
“I don’t do chipper, remember?”
“Bet you would for Seth.” I pushed myself up to a sitting position, which only served to make my head throb.
“That’s beside the point,” she twinkled at me. “Better hurry or I’ll beat you to the shower.”
“You can have it.”
“OK, remember you said that when there isn’t any hot water left.”
I studied her groggily for a moment before the meaning of her words hit home. Then I leapt up and jumped from the bed, but Becky was already in motion, racing toward the bathroom door. I lunged for it, but she elbowed me out of the way, giggling, and slid into the open doorway, slamming it shut behind her. “Becky!” I groaned, banging my hand on the door. “Becky? Don’t use all the hot water, OK? Do you hear me?”
The only response I got was the sound of running water. I retraced my steps, grumbling to myself as I flopped back onto the bed. I folded my arms behind my head and stared at the pattern on the ceiling. Today was the big day. It was so hard to believe Becky, my Becky, the self-proclaimed least romantic person on Earth, was getting married! I guess it just took Seth to turn her around, because she clearly felt differently around him. Thinking about romance inevitably turned my mind to the man who neither of us was talking about. The picture I had of him in my mind’s eye sprang up instantly, like a mirage to a man dying of thirst.
“Becky!” I called out. “Hurry up already!” I knew I sounded irritable and I wasn’t mad at her, but at my own weakness for a man I hadn’t seen or heard from in almost a decade. What a pathetic loser I’d turned out to be.
“Keep your pjs on,” she said in a sing-song voice as she emerged from the bathroom, toweling off her hair.
“I imagine I’ll be saying something similar to you a few hours from now,” I quipped.
“Naw. The dress is paid for, the cake’s already in the fridge. What could go wrong?”
I winced—I couldn’t help it, I’d always been a bit superstitious. “Famous last words, my friend. Famous last words.”
“Oh, go get in the shower already!” she scolded, throwing her damp towel at me, sending me scurrying into the bathroom.
* * *
Everything that could go wrong, did. We’d accidentally left the veil, Cindy Lou had spilled grape juice on her dress, which didn’t complement pastel green at all. Patrice, in some act of misguided defiance, had dyed her hair a shade of strawberry pink that was better suited to a punk rocker. To say it was an eyesore would have been an understatement.
The dressing room was a madhouse as problem after problem arose. Everyone was snapping at each other. Patrice and Becky’s sister, who had found a pastel green suit at Dillard’s, had almost come to blows. Yet, in the midst of the chaos, Becky sat among us, calm and still with a smile on her face. I strongly suspected it had something to do with the letter she was holding onto that had been delivered just before the madness began.
“Beck?” I tried to capture her attention.
The face she turned to me was serene. “Hmm?”
“Honey, I hate to tell you, but the pianist is sick. So—”
She surprised me by giggling. “That figures.” She took in my bewildered expression and quickly explained. “That woman hates me. Always has, ever since I dumped her son three years ago. Well, if she was aiming to ruin my wedding day, she’s got another think coming.”
I marveled at her wide, beautiful smile. Most brides would be absolutely beside themselves. “What did he put in that envelope?” I whispered. “Valium?”
She giggled again. “Of course not, Shan. If I wanted Valium, we both know you’d be the one I’d talk to.”
“He seems…” I stared down at the envelope with her name scrawled on the front of it, along with a hand-drawn picture of an oak tree with their names carved in its trunk, trying to find the word. “Very sweet.”
“He is,” she sighed, happily. “I’m going to enjoy it, too, before I completely ruin him.”
“Becky!” I exclaimed, shoving her shoulder. “Don’t you dare!”
“We promised to write each other letters, to read before the wedding, you know.”
I wondered if she knew she was blushing. Once again, I couldn’t help but note the change in her. “I think that’s great, honey.”
“Do you want to read it?”
“Do I want to…”
“Here.” She thrust it at me.
“Um, OK.” I slipped the note card out of the envelope, noting it had the words ‘Thank You’ embossed on the front with another hand-drawn picture, this time of two doves. I flipped open the card and skimmed it.
Thank you for being the love of my life… now and forever… my love will only grow as we age… I can’t wait to see you at the altar.
“It’s sweet,” I said, sniffling as I handed it to her.
“Oh, are you getting all teary-eyed on me?” she teased.
“You know, I think your sister needs some help with makeup. I’ll—”
Just then, all hell broke loose. Literally, in the form of Laura’s seam ripping in the back of her dress when she bent to put her chunky heels on.
“Hope you know how to sew,” Becky said lightly, as though nothing happening concerned her in the least. And why should it? She had a wonderful man waiting for her at the end of the altar.
“Of course I do. I’m a doctor, remember?”
As I went to retrieve my sewing kit—a number one must-have for a wedding day, I’d long since learned—I couldn’t help wishing I had someone waiting for me, too.
It seemed like I’d just announced that we had thirty minutes to go when it was time to file out. It was as long a processional as I’d ever seen, with three flower girls, two ring bearers and nine women preceding the bride. In no time at all, I heard the music start—Seth had heard the news and hooked his iPad up to the speakers—and the line began moving. Patrice began filing down the aisle, the last one before it was my turn.
“Good luck,” I whispered to Becky.
“Don’t trip,” she whispered in my ear.
It was with a genuine smile that I began to make my way down the aisle. I turned my head from side to side, noting many familiar faces in the crowd. Anyone I didn’t recognize I assumed were part of Seth’s family, not that they were hard to spot. They were all clearly Irish, with the same freckled faces, strawberry blond hair, and clear blue eyes. Becky would fit like a glove, I was sure. Especially if his family was as rambunctious as she’d told me.
As the strains of the ‘Wedding March’ filled the air, I turned toward the altar and took in Seth’s beaming face. He looked elated, his eyes moving past me and locking onto the woman who was to become his wife.