21
My mother’s fingers tremble as she fans herself, her face ashen beneath the carefully applied blush.
“Oh God, I feel ill.”
Beads of sweat glisten at her hairline despite the cool breeze flowing through the open window. I chuckle at her, catching Jasmine’s eye in the mirror as she finishes up her makeup.
“Come on, Mom, you’ve been waiting for this moment your whole life.” I dab a tissue at the corner of her eye, careful not to smudge the smoky shadow we’d spent thirty minutes perfecting.
“I know but, oh God, it’s really happening.” Her voice cracks. “Am I making a mistake?”
“Mother!” I laugh, gripping her bare shoulders firmly enough to leave momentary impressions on her sun-kissed skin. “He’s your everything, remember?”
She exhales slowly, her breath smelling faintly of mint and the champagne we’d sipped while getting ready. “My everything. You’re right about that, but...”
“Come on, you’ve loved Chief from day one. You can’t back out now. You and I both know you won’t walk away, not again.” The mascara wand glides between my fingers as I finish the final coat on her lashes, which curl upward. “God, he’s going to fall over when he sees you.”
I step back, admiring how utterly breathtaking she is.
“You’re right, I know. I am just so nervous...” Her knuckles whiten around her bouquet of wild daisies.
Jasmine’s silk dress clings to her skin as she slides into it, the baby pink fabric catching the light like cotton candy. My ownbaby blue dress hangs perfectly against my curves, the material cool and smooth. My belly is rounding out slightly, and this dress makes it incredibly difficult to hide, but I’m proud of it so I don’t care. It’s nice seeing my body change, knowing there is life growing inside me.
“You girls look...” Mom’s voice catches on a sob. “Oh my...”
“Mom, stop crying,” I roll my eyes and kiss her cheek. “I can’t keep fixing this makeup. Now stand back, let’s have a look at you.”
She steps back and Jasmine and I both press our hands to our chests. Her wedding dress flows around her, strapless white chiffon that ripples with each anxious breath, the silk underlay gleaming. The diamond pendant nestles in the hollow of her throat, catching prisms of light that dance across her collarbones. Her golden-brown hair falls in soft waves past her shoulders, and beneath the hem of her gown peek the well-worn black leather biker boots, their silver buckles scratched from years of riding.
She did that part for Chief, and I just know he is going to love it.
Jasmine and I exchange proud glances as we pull on our matching boots, the leather creaking as we lace them tight.
“Are you ready?” I squeeze her hand, feeling her pulse racing beneath my fingertips.
“Oh God... oh God...” Her whisper barely disturbs the air.
“This is the right thing, Momma. He’s your other half, and you know that.” I adjust a stray curl that’s escaped her careful styling.
Her smile appears, a little surer this time. “I’ve thought about this moment my whole life. I can’t believe it’s here.”
“Well, enjoy it, because it’s here and it’s amazing.”
“Thank you girls for getting me through this.”
She stares at us both with such pride, it makes my heart swell.
“Come on,” I say, linking my arm through hers. “You have a very nervous biker waiting.”
My heart hammers against my ribs as I swing my leg off Travis’s bike. Behind me, Jasmine slides gracefully off Bill’s bike, her leather boots landing firmly on the ground. The world stretches out before us in a blaze of color. The sea stretches to the horizon, the sky brushed in reds and oranges, and a scarlet carpet unfurled across the soft sand.
Dozens of bikers in black leather jackets and chrome-studded vests stand waiting. At the end of the carpet, beneath an arch of driftwood entwined with white roses, my father waits, every inch the rugged patriarch, sleeves rolled to reveal tattooed forearms, shirt collar open against the sea breeze.
I take a deep breath, pressing a hand to my chest at the sight before me. Travis loosens his grip on my hand just as I step onto the path. I pause for a heartbeat, eyes locking with my dad’s. His face softens, every line of ordeal and triumph wiped away by pure pride.
His right-hand flies to his chest, and I watch his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows back the emotions. Then his eyes swing to Jasmine, who is standing next to me now, her hand curling into mine, and a tear rolls down his cheek.
“Is our father crying?” she asks, shocked.
