Page 106 of The Wedding Situation Romance

“She does,” Allegra agrees, and I stand up again. This time she does, too. Then she offers one last warm smile. “You’re still invited to the renewal,” she says.

“Thank you,” I tell her. “But I’m not so sure Quinn would appreciate that.”

“Maybe. Maybe not,” she shrugs. “Guess it depends on just how grand that gesture is…”

And with that, the wheels in my head start to turn.

I don’t think I need to convince Quinn that I am wrong. She’s well aware, if I had to guess. But I need to convince her that IknowI was wrong. And that will be no small feat.

Chapter 42

Quinn

The weather is perfect.

The sky is blue, and the humidity is just enough to remind us how close to the ocean we are, but not so warm that it’s sticky. Allegra’s backyard is decorated softly with fairy lights and tiki torches. Everyone is seated at cute wooden tables that line a flower petal path leading to a wooden geometric altar draped in lace and lights and more flowers.

Between her gardens and the centerpieces and everything else, there are flowers and greenery everywhere. The take-away gifts for all the guests are tiny potted succulents. There are pitchers of sangria and shandy. There’s a grazing table off to the side covered in a blanket of charcuterie food and speakers set up throughout the yard for music. It’s simple and romantic, and perfect. As I stand up by the altar along with her sister Clementine and Dustin’s friend Drake and Finn, I focus my entire heart on that, ignoring the jagged beating in my chest.

Because I wasn’t supposed to be here alone.

Because I wasn’t supposed to be Washington Heights forever bachelorette.

Because I never should have fallen in love with Manhattan’s most notorious divorce lawyer.

It’s the worst trope of all time, and as it turns out, tropes don’t work in real life. Opposites are not attracted. Sunshine can’t outshine grumpy. Elizabeth would never have changed Darcy.

Oh god…

That’s my story, isn’t it? Pride and Prejudice gone wrong. Pride and Prejudice and Reality. Pride and Prejudice: The Horror Story. You Can’t Fix Him.

“Are you alright?” Clementine asks, and it yanks me back into the here and now. Allegra will be walking towards us any moment on her father’s arm because he’s a lovely older gentleman who is honored to give her away twice. Talk about a romantic.

“Yeah. Yes. I’m good. Just…”

“I know,” she smiles, oblivious. “I’m trying not to cry, too.”

I force a smile.

It’s not a lie. I am trying very hard not to cry right now. But unlike Clementine, who is crying for her sister, the centerpiece of this event, I am selfishly crying for me. Because I can’t look at the lights and the flowers and the chairs and the food and the drinks and the dresses and the tuxes without thinking about my own love story.

Or lack thereof.

I can’t look at any of it without thinking of Reid and how I was actually stupid enough to believe that he could be my happily ever after and that the two of us against all odds could have this epic love story that everyone else would look at and strive to achieve.

The music shifts, and Clementine lets out a tiny squeal. “Here we go…”

My chin quivers, and I force a smile. At least if I cry, people will assume I’m a good person and the tears are for her and not the funeral of my own heart.

The ceremony is perfect. They talk about how they met, about the silly things that happened on their first dates. The quotes are funny and sweet and memorable, and I tuck each one away knowing someday I will appreciate them more.

“Dustin was a hobby mechanic, restoring vintage cars when I met him. He was so nervous on our first date that I would notice his grease and oil-stained hands and be bothered by it that he scrubbed them…with Dawn dish soap and steel wool. Until they bled.” Allegra recaps and the crowd makes anawwsound, infiltrated with giggles.

“Allegra was in her hippie era. She still is, but back then it was…more. One of the first weeks of our marriage, she insisted we eat nothing but green. Green pasta, green salads, green smoothies. Needless to say, I spent a lot of time in the bathroom, and that too was very green,” Dustin says, and everyone laughs.

They go on telling stories like this for a solid five minutes before talking about Kimbree, family, friends, and everything else. Then they restate their vows, and my eyes officially fill with tears. And I am proud to say they are for her. For them.

After they kiss, they walk hand in hand to the open space made for dancing and ask everyone to join them. We all dance to Alex Warren and celebrate not just Allegra and Dustin but love. And since I have no plus-one, I scoop Kimbree up and sway with her, distracting her from her want for her mama so Dustin and Allegra can have their moment.