Vann leaned in while I pretended to scratch the corner of my eye and ignored the wetness my fingertip came away with. “You ready for this?”
“We have the easy job,” I whispered back.
He turned his head, pulling my attention toward him. His eyes drifted over my formal attire. “No, you just make it look easy.” He leaned in, his lips brushing my earlobe. “You’re too beautiful, Dillon. I’m finding it hard to look directly at you.”
Before I could reply, the bluegrass quartet began the prelude music, and he was pulling me down the aisle. I struggled for a few seconds as his words seemed to trip up my feet and make me forget how to do simple things like walk… and breathe… and blink. But I recovered quickly.
We walked passed packed rows of people, all watching expectantly for the blushing bride. I probably knew a lot of people here, but they were all a blur as the beauty of the moment consumed me. Starting at my feet, fizzing up my legs and through my chest, reaching my fingertips and the very top of my head.
White and pink peonies interspersed with the prettiest greenery was draped from the ceiling and along the walls and decorated the aisle chairs in elegant wreaths. There was a wrought iron arch at the end of the aisle, backdropped by the open patio and the late afternoon sun and the hum of Durham just beyond.
That was where Vann and I parted ways. But not before his fingers brushed mine in the sweetest goodbye.
Or maybe his fingers brushed on accident.
God, this whole wedding haze was clouding my judgment.
I waited for my fellow bridesmaids to join me. And then it was the flower girls’ and ring bearer’s turn. They were adorably off course and mischievous. The pastor gestured for the room to stand, the hired band changed their music and Vera entered the room on her dad’s arm. Killian made a choked sound and I glanced over just in time to see a single tear roll down his cheek.
That’s when the tears started flowing for everyone. I was a strong woman and all that, but even I couldn’t hold it together when Killian, a man that was basically my brother and one of the smartest, strongest, most resilient guys I had ever known, was staring so completely enamored at his bride.
They didn’t stop either. Not when the pastor started talking about the sanctity of marriage and the sanctity of the lifelong promises the happy couple was about to speak to each other. Not when Molly’s mom read a verse about love from the Bible. Not when one of Vera’s second cousin’s sang a song by the Lumineers while they lit a unity candle. Not when they whispered choked vows and Vera sniffled her I do’s. Not when they were pronounced man and wife. And certainly not when they shared their first kiss as newlyweds.
The wedding erupted into a true celebration after that.
Vera and Killian danced down the aisle, freshly dubbed Mr. and Mrs. Quinn. We followed, cheering and wiping tears and loving these people more than any of us knew was possible.
My loneliness disappeared, reminded of how happy I was for my friends—how special this day and night were for them. How completely wonderful they were for each other.
The wedding guests were asked to mingle in the bar area, while the staff reset the restaurant to accommodate for the meal and the bridal party scurried outside to take advantage of the late sunlight.
For an hour and a half, the photographer snapped pictures of the happy couple and their coordinating wedding party. Vann and I were continuously put next to each other, forced to touch, forced to be close. And I’d like to think we weathered it like pros.
I mean, there was the lingering brush of his hand along my spine. And the extra close posturing as his chest pressed against my back or his arm wrapped around my shoulders, tugging me into him.
But that was the point of pictures—that we all looked like we knew each other. And liked each other. And like Vann and I had totally slept together the night before.
Oh wait, not that last one.
I would be surprised if Vera got her pictures back and I wasn’t face-palming through half of them.
What made it worse were the tingles and snapshots of the night before running through my thoughts whenever Vann touched me.
By the time we reentered the reception, I needed a drink. And fast. The rest of the guests had been reseated at tables around the room and Vera and Killian were making their way through the crowd to the head table.
I veered off course and slid onto a barstool. I’d seen the guy behind the bar a few times before, but I didn’t think he worked here. After giving me a surprised look, he walked over with a smile on his face.
“What can I get you?”
“Something strong,” I responded immediately. Then of course, I thought about last night and the questionable decisions I’d made and changed my mind. “Just kidding, something mild. Barely alcoholic. A virgin daiquiri if you have it.”
He laughed at my insane answer. “Is that really what you want? A virgin daiquiri?”
I plopped the side of my head in my hand. “No, I want an Old Fashioned.” I scanned the shelves of liquor. “With that Bulleit Rye.”
His grin kicked up a notch, giving him the most devilish look I had ever seen on a man before. This guy was trouble. And he knew it. “Atta girl.”
“Don’t make me regret this decision,” I told his back as he searched for the right bottle.
