“Seeing my brother that down bad over someone is a top-tier memory for me,” Lila says.
I laugh, silently sending yet another wish into the ether that Jaxon will come back. But then, I force him from my mind.
I love my sisters more than anything. Sure, we might fight and bicker and disagree more than we agree, but we love each other with a fierceness that can only be born from a lifetime of joy, loyalty, and shared memories. So I’m not going to ruin today by ruminating on the what-ifs of my life.
The music for the ceremony starts, and I follow Kelsey up the aisle of grass strewn with white rose petals, a detail I have to assume Bryn had no knowledge of. It’s beautiful, but Bryn is not an aisle-of-rose-petals kind of lady.
We reach the front, and I try not to notice the loving smiles Kelsey and Lila both send their significant others standing behind Jameson. Instead, I focus on the doors I know Bryn and my dad are about to exit, holding back a sigh as the entire congregation stands as one.
The violinist starts to play as the doors open, and I finally let the tears I’ve been holding in fall.
Bryn looks incredible. Her dress has one of those deep V necklines that would terrify me, but somehow it just works on her—probably because she’s walking like she owns the place. There’s some sort of sheer material holding it all together so Bryn can dance all night without having to worry about one of her nips popping out, and a floaty tulle skirt that I never would've guessed she'd pick. But the lace and little sparkly gems catch the light like they’re part of the wild prairie backdrop, and yeah…okay. She nailed it.
I turn to watch Jameson’s face as he catches sight of his bride—one of my favorite parts of a wedding that I picked up from some movie or another. His face shifts—jaw slack, eyes soft, like he’s seeing something holy. And maybe he is.
My heart twists, hoping that someday I’ll know what it’s like to be someone’s whole universe—no, not someone’s, Jaxon’s.
The ceremony continues, and I alternate between judging their vows like I’m inWedding Crashersand secretly wonderingif anyone will ever say things like that about me. I’ve used the tissues I hid in my bouquet so many times they’re now just a squishy mess, and I’m jealous of the box my mom was smart enough to hide under her chair. She and my grandma have gone through so many of them that it’s starting to look like it snowed under their seats.
As Bryn and Jameson exchange rings, the sun dips behind the horizon, the warm globe framing their heads like the heavens are personally blessing their union. The soft golden light that follows the fading sun makes everything feel a little more magical, a little less real. It’s a perfect moment, and no one deserves it more than Bryn and Jameson.
The crowd erupts in applause as the happy couple kisses—finally—and I blink at the sky, trying to hold myself together.
Jaxon will come back. He will.
The ceremony ends, and I walk down the aisle on the arm of Conrad Ferguson, Bryn’s boss and one of Jameson’s long-time friends. I’m vaguely aware of the people clapping, the drone of the string quartet packing up, the photographers moving around like stealthy little pixies, capturing joy in wide-angle. But mostly, I’m hyperaware of how viscerally I wish I was about to see Jaxon. For how much that wedding made me want to be wrapped in one of his cocooning hugs while he kisses my forehead. And maybe tells me he loves me.
Becca shoots me a wink and a double thumbs up as we pass her in the back row. Conrad trips over something in the grass, and we both almost go down. Fortunately, I chose the lowest block heels available to me, so I’m able to steady us both. Maybe those workout classes are doing more for me than I give them credit for.
“You okay?” I ask him as we navigate toward the bar to grab drinks while the happy couple takes pictures in the fading light.
“I…I—do you know that woman back there?” Conrad asks.
“No, giving thumbs up to random strangers is just a Wild Bluffs thing,” I say on a laugh.
Conrad shoots me an exasperated look.
“Of course I know her,” I say with a good-natured eye roll. “She’s my best friend, Becca. We own Flatroads Consulting together.”
I thank the bartender for my “His” cocktail—whiskey neat. Jameson was in an advertisement for the company last year, and they sent bottles as a gift to the bride and groom. It’s a damn nice whiskey, so I’m also considering it a gift to me.
“She’s the most infuriating woman on earth.”
After taking a sip of the drink, I turn my attention back to Conrad. “Why? How do you know Becca?”
“I don’t know her, which is part of the problem.”
I lean back against the bar, content to wait out Conrad’s story as the room around us fills with other wedding guests.
“I may have called her a floozy,” he admits.
The whiskey I was drinking shoots up my nose, burning as it makes its way through my sinuses.
“Why?” I choke out.
“She…well, it was right here, actually.” He taps the bar. “A couple of summers ago.” He narrows his eyes in concentration. “I guess that summer, Jameson first came out here to WBCC. Anyway, I happened to be drinking next to her, and well, I’m now beginning to think I may have misread some things, but let’s just say I thought she was flirting with me because she knew I owned the place. One thing led to another, and I called her a floozy, which, in hindsight, is just a terrible thing to call anyone. Is she, by any chance, a floozy?” he asks, and I’m pretty sure he’s secretly hoping she is.
“Definitely not.”
