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“That’s enough. Are you ready to go out, Ava?”
“Ready as I’ll ever be,” my sister says softly, reaching for my hand.
I give hers a firm squeeze, and as maid of honor, I step around to help with her dress and flowers.
“You don’t need much help with your dress,” I say.
“You look very beautiful,” the queen says in her stern voice, startling us.
I step behind Her Majesty and make big, teasing eyes at Ava. A compliment! I mouth, and she blinks away, doing her best not to laugh.
“Thank you,” Ava says.
“You look like Bridgette Bardot,” the queen says, turning to me.
“Wow! Really? Thanks.” I feel truly complimented, whether she meant it that way or not. It’s hard to know with this woman.
My hair is styled in a barrette with a jeweled flower clipped over it. The rest is down my back in waves like my sister’s. I give it a quick check in the mirror, and we step out into the large foyer, where ironically, Reggie waits to escort my sister into the car that will take us to Saint Augustine’s, the enormous old church where the wedding will take place.
“And here you thought this would be me,” I can’t help teasing.
“Perhaps.” Reggie cuts his blue eyes at me. “Perhaps not.”
I hesitate a moment, wondering if he knew it would turn out this way all along. We don’t have time to discuss it. A car is waiting for us under the covered back patio, where a tent has been set up around the door to prevent early photographs of Ava in her dress.
“Paparazzi again,” I tease her as we settle into the car. “I forgot how much I hate those guys.”
“I think they’ve succeeded in blinding me,” she quips. “I hardly even see them anymore.”
“They’re a menace,” the queen grumbles, looking out the window from where she sits beside her brother. “Willing to kill us for a simple photograph.”
I don’t like that sentiment. Ava nervously plays with her bouquet, and I put my hand on her forearm reassuringly. She takes mine and smiles.
“You’re going to be fine,” I whisper. “Hajib is with us.”
It’s a short drive to the church. Our trusted driver stops the car at the end of an intimidatingly long red carpet. Reggie steps out to escort the queen into the enormous edifice, leaving just the two of us in the car. Ava turns to me and grips both my hands in hers.
“We’ve come a long way since that rainy night in the ditch,” I say, smiling through the tears.
“I’d never be here without you.” Her voice is soft and tears glisten in her eyes.
I dig in my hidden pocket for the tissue. “Here.” I touch her eyes gently. “No more tears. It’s your fairytale.”
She leans forward, and we hug each other a long moment. I think about my mom and I hope she can see us from above. I know she’d be so proud of her Ava-bug. She might not think I’ve done too bad myself. The thought makes me smile.
We hear the noise of a throat clearing, and I look up. “The rumor mill is starting over this delay,” Hajib teases.
“Tell them to keep their shirts on.” I scoot toward the door. “You got this, Ava-bug. I’m right behind you.”
She nods, and we step out of the limo into the next chapter of our lives.
* * *
An endless stream of ups and downs and vows and songs and sermons and pictures, and I’m finally in Cal’s arms on the dance floor.
“I’m going to send Ava a personal thank you note for this dress,” he says, with that naughty grin. “Your legs stole the show.”
“You’re not too shabby yourself,” I reply, running my finger over the epaulet on his military coat. “Hot.”
