Emma giggles and Liv's face flushes deep red. "Very funny," she says, tugging on my hand. "Come on, Romeo. We don't have time for that right now. You can use the bathroom after I'm done; I won’t be long."
As she leads me toward the stairs, Emma calls after us: "You two are adorable!"
23
LIV
I'm supposed to be watching my sister getting married, but instead I'm cataloging potential problems. The officiant's microphone could use adjusting—he's holding it too close to his mouth and I can hear him breathing. I should have done a sound check with him, but there was no time. The archway is holding up beautifully despite the breeze that keeps rustling the ivy, and generally everything looks good, which means I should be able to relax and actually watch the ceremony.
Except I can't. And it doesn't help that Blair is sitting beside me in that midnight blue suit looking unreasonably good. No—not good. Hot.
"Dearly beloved," the officiant begins, and I force myself to focus on Emma and David standing beneath the archway.
Emma looks dazzling. There's no other word for it. Her face is glowing as she stares up at David, and tears of joy are threatening to spill down her cheeks. She cried when she first saw the transformed yard and now she's about to cry again as the officiant reads some traditional passage about love and commitment and the sacred bonds of marriage.
Sacred bonds. Right.
I check that the photographer is capturing the right angles. The catering staff should be finishing dinner prep right about now. We'll need to transition smoothly from ceremony to cocktail hour to dinner service, and that requires precise timing that?—
Focus, Liv. Focus on Emma.
I glance at Blair beside me. She's watching the ceremony intently, and when I study her profile, I'm startled to see her eyes look teary. Her jaw is tense, like she's trying to keep her emotions in check.
Really? She's getting emotional over this?
When she feels me looking at her, she turns and meets my gaze. That slow smile spreads across her face and it makes my stomach flutter.
I pegged Blair as the casual type who keeps things light and uncomplicated. The perfect choice for a weekend fling. Maybe I misjudged her. Maybe deep down, she's secretly a romantic. For some reason, that thought amuses me.
Emma's voice cuts through my mental spiral, and I realize they've moved to the personal vows they wrote for each other. Emma is speaking directly to David now, barely holding it together.
"David, you make me laugh every single day. You support my dreams even when they're impractical. You hold me when I'm scared and celebrate with me when I'm happy. You make me feel like the most important person in the world, and I promise to do the same for you for the rest of our lives."
Around me, I hear the telltale sounds of guests getting emotional. Sniffling. The rustle of tissues being pulled from purses. A bridesmaid behind me lets out an audible sob, and I resist the urge to ask if she needs medical attention. The emotional contagion at weddings is real—put seventy-five people in formal wear, add some flowers and romantic music, and suddenly everyone's crying like they've just watched Bambi's mother die.
Even Uncle Pete is crying, which is both touching and concerning since he's the same man who once told me emotions were "for city folk and Democrats." Aunt Carol is patting his shoulder while simultaneously filming everything on her iPad, because nothing says "live in the moment" like watching a wedding through a tablet screen. Mom is sniffling to my left—she's been shedding happy tears since we sat down.
My parents have been married for thirty-seven years. They seem happy enough, I suppose. They still laugh together, still hold hands sometimes when they think no one is watching. They've weathered financial struggles and health scares and the stress of raising two daughters with very different ideas about life. But they're the exception. They just got really fucking lucky.
David starts his vows, and his voice cracks on the first few words. "Emma, you changed my life the day I met you. You challenge me to be better, and you love me exactly as I am. I promise to tend your garden when you're too busy to water it, to dance with you in the kitchen, and to always, always choose you."
Tend her garden. Sure he would. I grin, and then immediately have to bite my lip to keep from laughing out loud. I wonder if he'll also promise to prune her bush and plant his seeds in her fertile soil.
I steal another glance at Blair and see her throat work as she swallows hard. Then she takes my hand and squeezes it.
Suddenly I'm remembering this morning—waking up with her warm body pressed against my back, her arm draped over my waist, her fingers splayed across my stomach. I've been so busy today that I haven't had time to analyze that. Have Icompletely ruined any chance of something happening between us? Or would she be interested if I tried to seduce her sober?
Two drinks maximum,I remind myself.
The officiant is saying something about rings now, and Emma and David fumble with the exchange. David's hands are shaking—from nerves or emotion, I can't tell. The photographer is crouched at an angle that's going to give him a herniated disc to capture it from below. Professionals should be invisible, not performing interpretive dance during the ceremony, but I don't think anyone notices as all eyes are on the bride and groom.
They look happy. Genuinely, radiantly happy. Like they can't imagine being anywhere else, with anyone else, doing anything else. Like this moment is the culmination of everything they've ever wanted.
I remember feeling that way once. God, I was naive.
"I now pronounce you husband and wife," the officiant announces, and everyone around me erupts into applause and cheers.
I snap back to the present, realizing I've missed the final moments entirely. Emma and David are kissing under the archway, and this is the moment where I'm supposed to spring into action.
