There’s a knock at the door, and Mom comes in, dressed in a pale-yellow dress that she somehow pulls off. I’m surprised the flowers piled in her arms doesn’t pull her over.
“This is for the altar,” she gasps, a little winded.
We’re in the room I first stayed in when I met Kane.
Somehow, it felt right—and it gives him the opportunity to get ready with Dan and Ethan and his parents.
Hattie hangs the dress back up and takes the flowers, while Mom hugs me so tight I can’t quite breathe.
“You looksogorgeous, honey,” she says, a little choked. “No wonder Kane wants to marry you.”
I smile, because I know she means it in the best way. “I thought you were going to be late.”
“And miss the moment my daughter steps into her dress for the first time? No!” She shakes her head firmly. “This is too important. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
Having passed the flowers off to Clee to carry downstairs, Hattie hands me my dress again.
We picked it for its simplicity, this modern and elegant off the shoulder piece, airy and bright. It sweeps in at my waist and cascades out again at my feet.
Classic and timeless.
I step into it carefully and for the first time, the tears bite.
Holy hell.
As far as weddings go, this one feels relaxed, but the emotional sucker punch had to come sometime.
So far, I haven’t had to do anything except wake up and scarf down the breakfast Hattie brought me in bed.
“Yay, the sun’s out! The rain this morning had me worried,” Hattie says, bouncing with excitement at the window. “And it looks like they’re all set up. Don’t look, Margot. You can’t see yet and spoil the surprise.”
Since I planned the whole thing, it doesn’t make that much sense that I’m not allowed to peek, but whatever. I’m too busy eyeing myself in the mirror for imperfections to care about what they’re doing outside.
I finally look like a bride today.
I look like I’m gettingmarried.
Hattie turns and her eyes widen.
“Oh, Margot,” she whispers, her hands flying to her mouth. “How does it look evenbettertoday than when you tried it on for alterations?”
“Um, I guess because it’s really happening.” I don’t know if I’m trembling from nerves or sheer excitement. “Come help me do my hair.”
Hattie and Mom work together to get my hair sorted, both chattering away about the guest list, a who’s who of New England power and fame, plus the folks who couldn’t make it.
There are a few people I don’t mind passing on their invitations.
Daria, for one.
She’s down in Key West filming for two weeks and had to decline.
Honestly, I’m relieved.
I knew we had to invite her for the family’s sake.
Just like I know how important it is to keep up healthy relationships for the kids. Still, every time I find out another way she neglected them, I want to punch her.
But this is my wedding day, and even my distaste for Daria can’t last.
