Once back at her place, Birdie gingerly pins my hair back, smooths it, and helps me get it into beachy waves, which feel unnecessary since my hair has been defaulting to curls since coming to Coconut Beach and letting it go natural. It’s wavy and has turned even blonder in the sun. My hair looks simple and beautiful when I finally look in the mirror. I feel...like me.
As she helps me with my makeup, Birdie smiles, happy, proud tears in her eyes. “I always dreamed of your wedding day. And I know you said this is just to save the company, but to me, sugar, it feels like a good day.”
And she’s right. It feels like a really good day.
When she’s done, she steps back and nods once. “Perfect. You are stunning.”
I look at myself, and I recognize myself this time. My makeup is light, my sun-kissed skin glows, I’m smiling. On my wedding day to Tyler, I felt and looked cold. Sterile. Professional. Unhappy. And today I look like me.
I step into my satin wedding dress, a mock replica of Carolyn Bessette Kennedy’s wedding dress for JFK Jr. I’ve always loved this dress. It’s shorter, satin, simple, and me. The ostentatious dress my mother picked, which required a designer’s special hook to remove all the buttons, was never for me. In fact, who thought of something like that and thought that was a good idea? Who has an hour to remove a dress at the end of the night? Who wants to spend time doing that?
I wonder about what my mother would think of all of this. I knowshe’d never approve of Cal. She wouldn’t like his job, his tattoos, and she definitely wouldn’t like how he’d never let anyone treat me badly slide. He wouldn’t tolerate any disrespect, period. And I love that about Cal. He just is who he is. She’d try to assume he’s a bartender and that would be less than for this family. She’d never care that I saw on his diplomas he graduated Cum Laude at the top of his class at NYU. That wouldn’t matter. She’d only care about how he’d fit into her society-focused world. And he wouldn’t. Because Cal is a Coconut Beach guy. He is a man who cares for his mom and his friends. He’s the best. And he would never fit in that cold and sterile world. I wouldn’t want him to.
I grab my phone and text Wilby.
Me: Change of plans. We’re moving the wedding to Carly’s house. We can go to the beach first and take pictures. I’m not having Cal’s mom miss this.
Wilby: Let me make some calls.
Outside, the sky is blushing pink and gold. The beach is quiet, waves lapping up on the shore. A light breeze blows my hair as I stand and wait for Cal. A thought pulses through me that maybe he’s the runaway groom this time.
But he’s already there. He’s down by the water, in his white pants and white shirt. He looks so good. He turns when he hears us, and something in his expression shifts when he sees me. His shoulders relax, and his mouth curves into a smile.
“We’re not getting married here,” I tell him, breathless.
“Uh...what?” he asks, confused.
I shake my head. “We’re just taking photos. Then we’re moving it to your mom’s house. I can’t let her miss this. Don’t worry, I’ve already texted her. She’s nervous about this many people, but she is excited. She’s getting ready.”
His eyes soften. “I love that. Thank you.”
“Of course. Thank you, Cal. For doing this.”
His hand brushes mine, tentative, like he’s asking permission to hold my hand even though we’re already here. I lace my fingers through his, grounding myself in him. Something that isn’t hard to do. Cal is steady and calm.
Birdie clears her throat and steps into place with Wilby as the photographer snaps photos.
We pretend to do a ceremony, and at the end, Cal gazes into my eyes and cups my chin, pulling me in for a soft and deep kiss.
The sun crests the horizon as we kiss, warm light spilling over us like a blessing. The kiss itself is slow, intentional. Not rushed. Not performative. Real.
His lips command mine, taking his time, cupping my jaw. I lean into him, my arms around his waist.
As we pull back, Birdie wipes at her eyes.
Wilby watches us closely with amusement. “That,” he murmurs to Birdie, “doesn’t look fake.”
I grin at Cal, his eyes on mine. He tips his forehead to mine. I close my eyes and breathe him in. Photos snap.
I am no longer performing for a photographer. I’m lost in him. Until they clear their throat. We get more pictures and then load up and ride to Carly’s.
Jonah got the message from Cal and Wilby, and he’s sitting on Carly’s back porch steps when we arrive. He’s wearing a button-down shirt tucked into his pants. His beard is trimmed, and it looks like he got a haircut.
I make my way to him and he stands, his kind eyes on mine. “Jonah Black. You clean up well and are the most handsome man here.”
He chuckles and Wilby clears his throat and nudges Cal. “Looks like you have competition.”
Cal snorts and claps Jonah on the back. “Hey, Jonah.”
