“Well, if that doesn’t look like a happy and excited groom…”
I giggle and turn away to hide my amusement. “I don’t think he likes us together.”
“Does it matter?”
“Not even a little bit.”
Music starts, and I jump as the unmistakable brass fanfare of the Star Wars theme song blares through hidden speakers. Tracy and Alex parade down the aisle with exaggerated steps, nearly in lockstep like imperial stormtroopers.
Their bridesmaid dresses are puke green, and the ugliest I’ve ever witnessed. The satin fabric catches the light in all the wrong ways, emphasizing every wrinkle and bulge, while cascades of cheap tulle erupt from the waistline like mutant seaweed. They’re grinning like mischievous children who’ve just colored on the walls with permanent marker.
“Well, that’s quite the entrance,” Ford mutters.
Everyone stands as we turn to see Kenzie at the end of the aisle. She looks as if she’s been crying, and I gasp. “That was my dress.”
“What?”
“She’s wearing the dress I had on order,” I explain.
“She really did steal everything. But, um, is that part of the design? Because she might have done you a favor…”
Gasps ripple through the crowd as she walks down the aisle, tears streaming down her face. Not tears of joy. My jaw drops.
“That’s not part of the dress,” I whisper.
“Are those… nipples?” Once she reaches us, the truth becomes painfully clear.
“I think that’s wine.”
“She did choose the color merlot.”
I chuckle until she passes by, and my hand instinctively flies to cover my mouth. A large crimson stain blooms across the back of her ivory gown like a crushed rose, spreading from the small of her back downward in an unmistakable pattern that every woman in the room recognizes with visceral dread.
Ford’s shoulders shake with barely contained laughter beside me, but beneath my initial shock, a twinge of sympathy for Kenzie surfaces. That unique feminine solidarity that transcends even the deepest rivalries.
“Alex and Tracy said there was more she hadn’t found yet. I think we’ve uncovered it,” I mutter.
“Please be seated,” the reverend says.
We settle into our seats, and Kenzie turns to Asher. But Asher’s gaze is fixed on… me.
“He’s lucky his bride has already been humiliated. Otherwise, I’d give him what he’s got coming,” Ford growls. “He doesn’t get to look at you like that anymore.”
“We are gathered here to celebrate the union of Asher Andrews and Harper Wallace.”
Leaning forward, I bury my face in my hands as laughter erupts around us. Ford’s hand rests on my back, and he whispers, “Okay, this is bad if I feel sorry for Kenzie.”
“It’s Kenzie Marks.”
“Oh, sorry. I have Harper Wallace written down. My mistake. We’re gathered here to celebrate the union of Asher Andrews and Kenzie Marks.”
I sit back up and lean into Ford, overwhelmed by secondhand embarrassment. The rest of the ceremony unfolds smoothly… until Kenzie needs to pass off her bouquet for the ring exchange.
A similar red stain appears along the front of her dress, creating a stark, unmistakable contrast against the ivory color. Even Asher’s eyes widen at the sight, and Kenzie’s shoulders hunch forward slightly as she tries to maintain her composure in front of most of the town. I can only imagine how mortified Kenzie must feel.
“I can’t believe I’m saying this,” Ford whispers in my ear, “but they went too far.”
I glare at Alex and Tracy, who giggle like schoolchildren next to Harper. Kenzie may not be a good person, but their enjoyment of her pain feels excessive.
