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Chapter 12
MEL
Bee looks phenomenal. It’s not what I would have guessed she would wear, but she still looks gorgeous. It’s very New Bee. It’s strapless, fitted at the bodice, and flaring out to the ground with layers of tulle. Her hair is pulled back, with an extravagant veil, and not a freckle to be seen. God, I miss Bartle-Bee. New Bee isn’t anywhere near as fun.
Bartle-Bee wouldn’t have stuck me in this god-awful dress. If I were being uncharitable, I would say Bee put me in it, so there was no chance of my outshining her. Of course, if she had worn the dress I had originally shown her and let all her natural beauty shine through, there would be no way in hell I could outshine her.
As it is, I’m in a dress my mom would wear to a wedding. As the bridesmaid! I’m not kidding. Bee picked it out from the Mother of the Bride section at the bridal store. It’s not ugly. It’s just… frumpy. It makes me look about ten years older than I am.
I can’t believe I invited Pete as my date to this. He’s going to take one look at me and never want to have sex with me again!
“Ready?” Bee asks, looking excited. I smile. I know I don’t like some of the choices she is making - like picking Philip Schofield to marry - but at the same time, she’s so excited, and it’s her wedding day, and she’s Bee. My Bee. She will always be my Bee.
I hug her tightly, careful not to crease her veil. “You look amazing! I’m so happy for you.”
“This is a dream come true,” she whispers. I squeeze her tighter. That’s all that matters. That this is Bee’s dream, and she’s happy.
PETE
The music starts, and I turn with the rest of the congregation. Mel is the only bridesmaid, and I’m her date, so I get to sit with the bride’s family.
Her mom is already dabbing away tears, getting a few digs into the sister - who is not a bridesmaid - about her little sister getting married before her. I offer her a tight smile with raised eyebrows in solidarity. She rolls her eyes, shaking her head.
Tinker Bell pops out, and I only just manage to hide my snort in time. Oh god. She looks…awful. Her eyes meet mine, and I can see the grimace there, though her smile doesn’t falter. I flash her an OK sign, winking. Her eyes narrow, but she doesn’t give any other indication she knows I’m laughing at whatever it is they put her in…a red satin sack?
I miss most of the ceremony, my eyes drinking in Mel’s dress, trying to commit every crease to memory. This will bring many laughs. Many. I think she misses a lot of it, too, because she’s too busy trying to murder me with her eyes.
Finally, the friend with too much makeup, a dress that doesn’t suit her figure, and terrible life goals, says ‘I do’ with the pompous guy with too-white teeth, and Mel walks out stiffly holding the arm of the best man. I follow the blonde sister, chatting with her while we wait for photos to be done.
“You’re working here in Seattle?”
“Yeah. Originally from Maine. I came here for college and never left. I’m a legal receptionist.”
“Oh? Nice. I work in sports law.”
“I know. I recognized your name when you introduced yourself to my parents.”
“You didn’t say anything.”
“You’re Mel’s date. My mom would one hundred percent have tried to set us up, and that would have upset Mel.”
“I’m sure you’re a nice girl, but I’m happy with Mel.”
She laughs, a low pleasant sound, and moves away to the bar. Her mother would have tried to set me up with her even though I’m here with the bridesmaid? Maybe Mel’s not-so-great friend is just a chip off the motherly block.
We are led into the reception, and Elle – the sister – smirks, and points to the bride and groom’s table.
“You’re up there,” she drawls. Really? I don’t know these people.
Crossing to it, my eyes sweep the table. Sure enough, I’m sitting next to Mel, who is beside the bride. I’ve never sat at the bridal table for a wedding I haven’t been an integral part of. This will be…an experience.
I take my seat, the best man’s date at the other end. She offers me a small wave, her eyes dancing over the table as the emcee announces the bridal party. I guess she finds us sitting up here as weird as I do.
Mel holds my gaze, her eyes dancing as she walks in. God. I completely forgot how awful her dress was in the hour we've been apart. It has not improved with age.
“Loving the look,” I murmur as she takes her seat, wincing as she kicks me sharply in the shin. “Careful,” I breathe in her ear, “I would hate to have to duck out of a wedding to buy some panties.”
Her breath hisses between her teeth, and her eyes are now shining with need. Shit. Maybe I should have brought those vibrating panties. They’re still at her place, but I could have snuck them out of her drawer. I have fond memories of those panties, and they certainly would have made these speeches more interesting.
One thing becomes abundantly clear to me as the night progresses, and I slowly drink more and more mid-range whiskey… Mel’s best friend’s new social-climbing husband knows exactly who the Rampwoods are, and he wants to schmooze with me because of my family.
I seriously dislike people like this Philip Schofield. He’s oily and slimy, and I already had a low opinion of him after what Mel has said about his influence on her friend. The schmoozing is just icing on the cake. A very bland, bitter cake.
Resting my arm along the back of Mel’s chair, I stroke my thumb lazily back and forth over the skin on the back of her neck, bared with her prim up-do that matches her sack-dress.
Mel is hiding her face in her glass of champagne, trying to disguise the way her breathing is hitching with every movement of my thumb. God, I can’t wait to get out of here and back to Mel’s apartment. I’ll have her out of that dress and hairdo and on her hands and knees on the bed in front of me in no time at all.
“Bianca thinks Seattle is the perfect place to settle down with a family,” Philip is opining like I give a shit about his fucking future family. “I grew up in Tacoma originally, but I know you’re a Seattle man through and through. Any tips on good schools?”
“There are quite a few around. It really depends on where you’re thinking of settling down.”
He nods, smiling with too many teeth. “We’re thinking of moving. I don’t suppose we could hit you up for some legal advice when we have a contract in place? We’re all friends here, after all.”
Seriously? I want nothing more than to tell this prick where to shove his shit, but that wouldn’t go down well with Mel. As I sigh, forcing a smile and talking about the current real estate market, I slowly realize there is very little I won’t do for Mel…including making nice with this oily prick.
