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I turn around.
And then…
There’s a unicorn.
A white horse is decorated like a unicorn, trotting around the small group of folding chairs with a “horn” half falling off its head, a multicolored mane and tail, and letters scrawled across its flank and shoulders in rainbow letters that read “Rupert.”
Rupert.
The unicorn in my fever dream when I was twelve.
I told Brant about it, and he’d laughed.
He’d laughed and evidently taken immaculate mental notes.
My hand plants against my chest as my heart beats wildly out of control. “Oh my…” I glance behind me, my eyes landing on a defeated Brant pinching the bridge of his nose in a baby-blue tux and navy bow tie. He shakes his head back and forth with dismay.
Laughter spills out of me as I run to him, lifting up my tulle skirt, hardly able to contain my amusement. “Brant,” I choke out. The music goes silent once more, and I fling my arms around his neck. “You remembered my dream.”
He makes an oof sound when I collide with his chest. Two strong arms wrap around me as he lets out a sigh of disappointment. “That did not go how I expected it to.”
I can’t help but murmur against his suit vest, “Have we ever gone according to plan?”
“I guess not,” he says, laughing.
Pauly is already on his feet, reining in the rebellious horse and walking him toward the back of the aisle as a streamer floats from Rupert’s tail that reads “JUST MARRIED.” The reverend clears his throat again, still standing beneath our wedding arch, waiting for this circus to mellow out so we can have a proper vow exchange.
Smiling fondly, amusedly, Brant holds his hand out to me. “Ready, Junebug?”
I flash back to my dream.
My eyes case the small group of guests, zoning in on my father holding an elderly Yoshi on a short leash in the front row. The old dachshund is nearly seventeen, having been a loyal friend for almost my whole life.
Something old.
Mom sits beside my father with a pink bundle tucked inside her arms, bouncing the infant up and down in her lap, trying to calm her fussing.
Our baby daughter.
Something new.
Glancing toward the chair that only holds two stuffed elephants and a framed photograph, my eyes start to mist. The pre-prom picture of me standing and laughing between Theo and Brant sits beside Aggie and Bubbles on the seat cushion, serving as a tangible reminder of the brother I miss with my whole heart. The brother who isn’t here today because he used his final moments to save someone else.
The brother who will never stop saving me, even in death.
My fingers fiddle with the bronze badge pinned to the lacy leotard of my dress.
Theo’s badge.
Something borrowed.
A tear slips down my cheek as I stare at the precious photograph, wishing I could hear his speech. Begging to feel his fierce, protective arms around me one last time.
I close my eyes as the breeze picks up, coasting across my face like the hug I crave.
It’s warm, it’s familiar, and I pretend it’s him.
I pretend it’s Theo, giving us his blessing and whispering in my ear, “I’m proud of you, Peach. You know that, right?”
