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I have a hard time finishing my sentence as soon as I turn around and realize it’s not Shepherd who just joined me in the hallway.
“Jesus… you are stunning.”
I feel Dean’s quietly stated words from the top of my head to the tips of my toes, and they warm up everything in between in the process. My heart pounds as he stays where he is a few feet away, his eyes slowly trailing up my body. I knew I looked pretty good in the strapless, red satin, floor-length gown that Birdie picked out for me in my favorite color. With a slit up one side and a sweetheart neckline on the corset-style top, it fits me like a glove, and I’ve been in love with it ever since Birdie first made me try it on a few months ago. But nothing has ever made me feel more beautiful than the way this man looks at me, and I nervously reach up and brush a wayward strand of hair falling down from my updo out of my eyes.
“You clean up pretty nice yourself, Mr. Campbell.” I smile at him, rubbing my sweaty hands together in front of me, when all I want to do is close the distance between us and wrap my arms around him.
Shepherd sent a picture to Wren a little bit ago of all the guys huddled together with their arms draped over each other’s shoulders out on the 8th hole, so I already got a preview of how good Dean looks today. But nothing prepares me for seeing him in person, in a tailored black suit and white dress shirt that looks like it was definitely made for him, wondering when in the hell a bow tie on a guy suddenly became so hot.
“I think there’s a rule somewhere that says the mother-of-the-bride shouldn’t be prettier than the actual bride,” Dean muses, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, making some of my nerves about being with him again after how I behaved this morning disappear.
“You better hush,” I warn him, unable to hide my own smile, even though I’m trying to scold him. “If my daughter hears you say that, none of us will be safe from her wrath.”
We both share a small laugh, and Dean shoves his hands into the pockets of his suit pants. As he rocks back on the heels of his shiny black dress shoes, the awkwardness suddenly comes back now that we’re both quiet again. This man has been inside me. I’ve had his dick in my mouth. He spent the night after talking for hours about ourselves, and I suddenly have no idea what the hell to say to him right now.
Tell him you’re sorry.
Tell him you’re scared.
Tell him you need him, especially today.
Tell him you don’t want him to go, especially not tomorrow.
Or any day after that either—
“Where’s Shepherd?” I stupidly ask, instead of saying any of the thoughts flying through my head.
“He’s right behind me. Figured you ladies wouldn’t all fit in one cart.” He shrugs.
Silence fills the hallway again until I can’t stand it any longer, and I open my mouth, not even sure what’s about to come out of it.
“Mom?”
Birdie’s soft voice from behind me saves me from whatever mortifying thing I was about to say. Turning away from Dean, my breath hitches, and one of my hands flies up over my mouth. My eyes immediately fill with tears when I see my baby standing in front of me in her gown. It’s strapless and hugs her body with a corset-style top that matches mine, and it’s overlaid with sheer lace that continues out into a long train behind her. Her blonde hair has been expertly styled and curled to lay long and soft all around her shoulders, and my mother’s veil is pinned at the crown of her head, flowing down her back and onto the floor to pool with the bottom of her dress.
I helped her pick this dress out after she tried on at least fifty other ones. I’ve been to every fitting, and she’s popped by my house—where I stored the dress for her—to try it on at least once a week since we brought it home. But seeing her now, fully dressed and made up and ready to walk down the aisle, takes my breath away. She is without a doubt the most beautiful bride I have ever seen, and I can’t believe I gave birth to her.
And I can’t believe that in just a few moments, I’ll have to officially let her go.
A quiet sob makes its way past my hand still covering my mouth, and in an instant, I feel the heat from Dean’s body behind me. He steps right up against my back and rests his hands on my hips, securing me against the front of him as he dips his head down by my ear.
“It’s okay, sugar. You’ve got this.”
All I can do is nod at his whispered words, quickly blinking away the tears as my hand drops from my mouth. Taking a deep breath, I step away from him and over to Birdie, pulling her right into my arms. I squeeze her tightly to me, and I don’t even bother hiding it when I turn my face and sniff her hair, just to commit the smell to memory one more time.
I rock her in my arms, and I tell her how beautiful she is, and I tell her how proud I am of her and how happy I am for her. I say all the right words without breaking down, and I know it’s only because of the man standing quietly a few feet away. Far enough to give us privacy, but close enough in case I need him.
“You sure you want to do this? Just say the word, and I can have you out of here in ten seconds,” Tess says, stepping out through the doorway of the dressing room behind Birdie with Emily joining her, and Birdie and I pull apart. “Ride or die, bitch. Even though I hate you for making me wear a dress.”
The two of them share a fist-bump and emotional smiles, and Birdie reassures her that she definitely wants to do this. Wren joins us from the bathroom, and the five of us share one last group hug, before Shepherd peeks his head around the corner at the end of the hallway.
“Let’s go, ladies! Your chariots await!”
Thankfully, Birdie was too busy practicing her vows the entire ride out to the 8th hole, and Wren and I kept quiet to let her concentrate. Which gave Wren no time to grill me about my overnight guest while Shepherd hummed a song to himself as he drove us, and Dean followed closely behind in a cart with Tess and Emily.
Before I know it, Birdie and I are standing off to the side of the 8th hole, and Emily, Tess, and Wren have already made their way down the aisle and are waiting in a line on one side of the arbor. The boys are in a line on the other side, with Palmer standing in the middle with his back to us, so he doesn’t see Birdie until it’s time.
“You ready, sweetie?” I whisper.
