And I finally exhale.
My thoughts are on a wild rampage as I flit through the ceremony area, but everything is perfect and thus, utterly unable to distract me fromLaine. The wildflowers bundled with wheat and wrapped by vine hang from each row. The trail of vintage Turkish rugs Hannah’s meticulously collected makes a long, mismatched path of ruby and yellow, pink and indigo, all the way to the small round dais River built at the edge of our woods. An arch formed of curling birch branches, draped in honeysuckle and small floating lights, stands on the dais ready for the magic to come.The breeze whispers through the leaves, adding the melodic thrum of wind chimes to birdsong, and my heart yearns,yearns, at the beauty of it all.
And Laine.Laine!I’d say her name a thousand times if she asked me to.
Oh god, I’m losing it.
The yearning only grows as the guests meander to their seats to the soft sounds of Killian, Hannah’s ex and Bowie’s father, fingerpicking Simon & Garfunkel songs on his beat-up acoustic. Trish takes her place on the dais, smiling as River joins her, then grinning with tears streaming down her face as Hannah walks down the aisle, holding little Bowie by the hand and a bouquet of wildflowers in the other. Hannah is otherworldly, lit by the golden hour and the soft glow of the hanging lanterns. Her wedding dress is the color of palest champagne, a folk story of flowers spun in lace. It plunges down the front and back to reveal the swell of her chest, the strong line of her back, the tops of her summer-golden shoulders, before cascading in a waterfall of threaded blooms. Her dark blonde waves are braided away from her face and spill down her back, and she’s crowned with a wreath of magnolias and silver-green thistle. But it’s the look of joy, like she’s found her home at long last, that lights up her entire being. The pride and love and beauty of it all overwhelms me completely.
When River picks up Bowie with one arm and helps Hannah climb the steps with the other, my chest tightens painfully. What they have is so beautiful, it almost hurts to witness it.
Could I have it, too?
“Greetings, folk of the Shire,” Trish says, signaling the guests to sit. “My future son-in-law made me say that.” She smirks at the audience chuckling politely in their seats. “The rest, though, will come from my heart.” Trish’s smirk trembles, her voice catching, and I’m going to be bawling in two seconds flat.
Trish turns to her beautiful daughter with a tender look. “I didn’t always believe in love, but then I had you, Hannah. From the first moment you grabbed my finger in your tiny fist, my heart unfolded into a hundred new directions, growing, stretching, multiplying, and it’s never stopped, baby. You’ve been teaching me the meaning of love ever since.
“Our roads aren’t always easy, paved with potholes and assholes and all manner of other—oh, right. This is a family event.” Trish laughs, wiping her eyes furiously with the sleeves of her own wizard robes. “But those hard, dirty roads got us here today, baby. You are the most beautiful person who ever lived, and you’ve finally found the person who sees you as the treasure you are.” Trish stops, her voice fully wobbling, to address the audience. “If y’all thought for one second I was going to give anything other than a sermon about how wonderful my daughter is, you’re thicker than mud.”
“You tell ’em, baby!” Darryl calls from the front row, and the audience gamely whistles and hoots. Hannah’s laughing and crying, holding a grinning River by the hand, Bowie tucked between them.
“That’s the real trick, isn’t it?” Trish says, her voice strained with emotion. “Finding someone who loves you in all the ways you can’t love yourself just yet. Who gives you what you deserve, even when you don’t believe you deserve it.” She smiles at Darryl, who’s now openly weeping. “And if you’re lucky enough to find that person, beingbraveenough to put down everything you’ve got and bet on happiness for once in your life.” Her eyes travel across the audience, resting on mine.
“It can be so hard, can’t it? To let yourself hope?”
A small sob arches out of my throat, completely against my will. An instant later, a warm arm wraps around my shoulders, and I look quickly to see Teddy standing beside me. Teddy, who faced an even larger dearth of romantic opportunities than I do now and still found his person. His crinkly eyes see all the hurt and fear I keep inside, making it easier to bearin this beautiful, painful moment. I wrap my arm around him, too, and hug him close.
“When you’ve been hurt again and again, believing that could change seems like the most impossible thing in the world. But it can.” Trish’s words feel more hopeful, more charged with power than any actual sermon I’ve ever heard. They feel dangerous, too, like plans of escape uttered through the bars of a jail cell.
“But not if you won’t let it.” This, Trish delivers in a near-whisper, and it’s up to the breeze to carry it through the clearing. The collective mood has gone from joyful to touched to unspeakably tender, her words resonating within every current and former lonely heart sitting among these trees. They feel like a personal challenge to me, churning through my mind and all my bullshit, daring me to heed them.But how?I want to scream.With Laine?
My employee? The future of my vineyard rests in her hands, and I’ve workedhardto trust her with that. I’ve seen what happens when a heart is destroyed, I’ve witnessed it every day since my mother died. How could I hand mine over to someone who could crush it and my family business in one fell swoop? Laine’s too powerful, and I’m too defenseless. Even if part of me wants to be destroyed, my sense of self-preservation is screaming at the top of its lungs right now. I squeeze my eyes shut, willing my life not to be such an utter travesty. Am I doomed to fall in love with the same woman in each era of my life, only to be ignored or worse, tried out and discarded, on a godforsaken loop?
The sobs crawl up my throat, begging for release, and I quickly disentangle from Teddy’s arm. “I’m—I’ll be fine, I just—I’ve got to go check on the reception.”
Teddy nods. “I’ll keep an eye on things here, baby.”
River’s holding both of Hannah’s hands now, giving her his vows that not a soul in this place could ever doubt, and I can’t hear a word of themover the roaring in my head. I wish their happiness didn’t hurt so much, but it’s like looking at the sun, and my eyes ache to be released from it. I’ve reached my mother’s tree by the time loud cheering rises from the woods, and a wave of relief and shame washes over me. Sometimes my loneliness feels like a boulder inside of me, separating me from everyone I love. I try to ignore it, tell myself that all I need are the occasional blips of intimacy I get from Harlow or Mariah or whoever’s willing to throw me a bone that day. I have family and friends who love me—shouldn’t that be enough? But the boulder’s always there. I wish I was strong enough to roll it down the mountain, to accept this life and the people in it. Let what I have be enough.
Iwish it wereenough.
“Zoe?” Laine’s voice raises the hair on my neck, and I take a second to wipe my eyes before turning.
“Yes?”
She gazes at me long enough to tell me she knows I’ve been crying again. Whatever, lots of people cry at weddings. I’m not an emotionally stunted bad cousin and friend, choked by jealousy and loneliness to the point where other people’s love feels like air I can’t breathe. She reaches out for my hand and squeezes it gently. She doesn’t let go.
“TheEveryday Bon Vivantfolks just arrived. It’s ho-time.”
Ho-time. Right.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Laine leads me down toward the reception, already bubbling with guests and laughter, to the high-top table where the events team is huddled. It’s surreal, walking quietly hand in hand with Laine toward them now. I’ve been worried about seeing the events team all week, anxiously waiting for the moment where I can win them over for good, but now, all I can think about is the feel of Laine’s hand in mine. The promise,whenever you’re ready, she made directly to my trembling heart.
The hopeful feeling blooming inside me has more to do with Laine than the showcase, and that’s scarier than all of it together. The soft hope turns sharp, though, when I hear Erica’s irritated tone rise above the reception’s hum.
“Yes, I concede that it’s lovely here, but there’s more to the showcase than views, Marisol.” Erica swirls a glass of red in her hand with clear disdain. “Like wine? Maybe you’ve heard of it.”
