“I’m sure you’ll get it.”
She blinked, surprised by the small swell of pride in her chest. “Thank you.”
“The daughter of Mr. Henry Woodhouse of New York’s Upper East Side, lifelong patron of the Metropolitan Museum of Art, would certainly have the right connection to score a coveted spot at the Met,” he continued. “Don’t worry too much.”
“My dad’snothelping me. I’ll have you know that I had a 4.0 GPA last year and plan to graduate with honors in May,” she replied, her pride quickly swallowed up by self-righteousness. She stood, ready to tell him off and not caring who heard. “In fact, I don’t need—”
“Woodhouse, you’re up,” he interrupted her, pointing behind her.
She turned to find the bandleader, microphone in hand, nodding in her direction. “And now… the maid of honor would like to say a few words.”
Emma looked back at Knightley, her eyes narrowing on him. Damn it. Now she was all flustered.
He took a sip of his whiskey and smiled at her as if that had been the plan all along.
Oh, it was on.
“Give me that.” She grabbed the heavy glass out of his hand and took a swig of his drink before returning it with a thud to the table. She tried not to make a face as the peaty swill burned her throat, instead turning on her heel to walk toward the microphone in the center of the now empty dance floor.
She took a deep breath to calm her pulse and tucked a few fallen locks of her dark brown hair behind her ear, working a smile onto her face before beginning. “Good evening, everyone. I’m Emma Woodhouse, maid of honor and sister of the beautiful bride,” she said, letting her eyes skim over the guests. “I wanted to say a few words about the happy couple.”
Her gaze found Margo then, tears already lining her eyes. Emma’s smile broadened.
“There’s no greater feeling than when two of your best friends find love and decide to spend the rest of their lives together. It’s even better when one of them is your older sister.”
A tittering of laughter went through the yard. Emma smiled. “When we were growing up, you’d think it was always just my sister and I, but it really wasn’t ever just the two of us. It was the Woodhouse girls and the Knightley boys. We were always together, and I couldn’t have imagined it any other way.”
Out of the corner of her eye, she caught Knightley’s gaze on her, but she worked to ignore it, looking out into the crowd of seated guests.
“As many of you know, our mother passed away when we were very young, so my sister was always the one taking care of us, especially me. From making sure I did my homework, to practicing the piano, to helping me sign up for college classes, she could never replace our mom, but she was the next best thing. And I only just realized that as much as I always looked to Margo for love and support and friendship, she always looked to Ben. For love, support, friendship… and that fake ID sophomore year.”
Emma paused as more laughter rolled across the garden. “Today, as they embark on a new adventure together, I wish them all the happiness in the world. They absolutely deserve it.”
Tears were spilling down Margo’s cheeks now and Emmalaughed, swallowing the emotion that was growing in her throat. “I was going to quote one of our favorite movies here, but I’m not sure it captures what I want to say exactly. So I’ll say this: I talked to my sister about what it means to marry Ben and I like her own quote the best. She said: ‘It’s crazy that the love of my life is the same guy who flushed my Barbie down the toilet when I was five.’?”
The crowd laughed again. Emma lifted her champagne glass. “Thank you for always being there for her, Ben. Then and now and forever. I always wanted a brother, and I can’t believe I got you. So let us toast to Margo and Ben. I love you both so much.”
Sighs and cheers erupted amid the clinking of glasses. Emma returned to the table to find Mr. Woodhouse beaming and Margo trying desperately to save her mascara.
She sat down next to Knightley and threw him a smug grin. “Top that, old man.”
He stood, his glass of whiskey in hand, and leaned down just close enough to whisper, “I will certainly try, young lady.”
Knightley walked forward, slow and confident in his movements. He stopped at the microphone, raking a hand through his thick black hair as the crowd waited for him to speak.
“Hello, everyone. I’ll keep this short and sweet. This wedding is too beautiful to spend much time focused on anything but the bride and groom.”
Emma leaned back in her seat and got ready.This should be good.
He continued. “Some might say that finding your soulmate is pure luck. Others might call it fate. And then there are those who might suggest you go look right in your own backyard.”
Laughter erupted from the guests and Knightley smiled.
“I don’t know much about soulmates myself, but I do know this: when you do find that person, your equal in all things, youshould celebrate it with all your closest family and friends, just like we are today.”
Emma frowned. Damn it, that was a good line.
“Ben and Margo didn’t have to look very far for one another. Perhaps they were always destined to be in each other’s lives. Though I don’t think destiny can take credit for all the times Margo has saved Ben’s ass.”
