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“Dada, pwetty.” She patted the skirt of her dress with a big grin.
I lifted her into the air and swung her around. She giggled and waved her arms. “High!” she squealed, and I tossed her up, catching her quickly before my mom could have a panic attack.
“You look beautiful, Katie Bug,” I said, letting her down once she started wriggling. She twirled in her dress.
“Come on, Katie. It’s time to go. Do you have your basket?” Mom asked her.
“Basket?” I wondered aloud as Katie picked up a small wicker basket from the coffee table. “What’s in there?” I peered inside.
“Fowers,” Katie announced, taking a handful of fake rose petals and tossing them on the ground in a pile.
I looked at my mom, who was quickly sweeping them up and putting them back in the basket. “I thought Katie should have a part in this wedding, or whatever it is. She’s why you’re doing this, after all,” Mom insisted while fussing around all of us, making sure we passed her sniff test.
I felt choked up at my mother’s thoughtfulness. This. This was why I wouldn’t let Josie take Katie. I’d die before that happened.
“Okay, let’s get going.” I grabbed my keys, and we headed out the door.
Mom stopped me after I put Katie in her car seat. “I hope this works out. I really do. You deserve all the happiness, Kyle. Don’t forget that. Don’t forget yourself in this. Katie’s needs are important. But so are yours.” She gave me a quick hug and hurried to Dad’s Toyota.
Fifteen minutes later, we had parked at Town Hall and were waiting in the reception area. Whitney and her mom weren’t there yet, but Meg, Adam, and Skylar were.
Katie had gone straight to Meg, who pulled her onto her lap and let her play with the long necklace she wore.
“You ready for this?” Skylar asked, her expression unreadable. Even though she had been all for the idea at Sweet Lila’s, it seemed sobriety had dampened her enthusiasm.
“Whitney’s cool and all, but are you sure she’s the right one to do this?” Skylar asked me last night. The road from proposal to wedding had taken seven days. We were able to get a marriage license Monday, and here we were on Friday, ready to get married.
Skylar came over last night with pizza and a six-pack of beers. After Katie went to bed, we watched a crappy action flick and hung out. Skylar was good company. She wasn’t one of those people who filled silence with empty conversation. I had always appreciated that about her. We connected on a level that was different than my friendship with either Meg or Adam. At one time, I thought she may have had a thing for me, but I quickly realized that was never the case.
“Are you rethinking your quick refusal, Murphy? Because if that’s the case—”
“No way, Web,” Skylar had laughed, making a face.
I tossed a wonton over to her, and she ate it in one gulp, washing it down with beer. “Don’t worry, Sky. Whit and I are on the same page,” I assured her.
Skylar raised an eyebrow. “Are you, though? Do you remember how you were after you came back from LA? You were a damn mess, man.”
I tensed, hating that she brought that up. “This is different, Skylar.”
“Is it?”
“Yes, it is,” I said firmly. “Because I’m not deluding myself about what this is. I’m not some sad kid who actually thinks Whitney Galloway might love me.” I took a deep breath. “I’m very aware that this marriage will be in name only. She’s my friend now, Skylar. I’m not holding out hope for some grand romance. Those fantasies are long dead.”
Skylar had stared at me as if trying to search through my soul. I hated it when she did that. It made me feel as if she were scraping through all the painful crap I kept buried. Skylar saw through me in a way few people did. I was glad we were friends because it would suck to have her as an enemy
“Okay,” was all she said and dropped it after that. But something told me she didn’t believe me, and that sucked.
“Completely ready,” I told her, meaning it. I was more than ready. This was the right thing to do. I was convinced of it.
The doors to Town Hall opened, bringing with it a gust of air scented with the rose bushes blooming out front. The sun haloed the figure standing in the doorway, a bouquet of lilies in her hand.
Whitney and her mother closed the door behind them, and they walked toward us. June Galloway stopped and spoke to my parents, but I wasn’t looking at her.
Because I couldn’t take my eyes off Whitney Rose Galloway. My heart, which I tried to keep firmly in my chest, threatened to explode out of me.
