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ChapterThirty-One
Emelia
When I get married, I’ll do it on a spring day at Dunlany. I’ll elope under the oak tree among the flowers, right near my mother, hopefully with the help of Mr. Parmer. I’ll stand across from my fiancé and say I do, and I’ll think of this quote by F. Scott Fitzgerald: “Their lips brushed like young wildflowers in the wild.” Then we’ll sit down right there and share a picnic, open a bottle of champagne, enjoy the simple moment. It won’t be perfect. I’ll forget to chill the champagne. My newly minted husband will accidentally spill some on my dress when he pours us each a glass. The wind will pick up and whip my hair every which way, but then little moments will be better than I could have imagined. My husband will take my hand during the ceremony before he’s instructed to, like he needs an anchor. The clouds will split apart and reveal a bright hot sun, a welcome relief and a sign of good times ahead. I’ll think of my mother and feel her love.
Sonya’s wedding is the polar opposite of what I would want, but it’s so perfectly her that I know she’s having the best day. Everything is a little over the top, starting with the number of people in the wedding party: fourteen bridesmaids and fourteen groomsmen. They could barely fit us all at the altar during the rehearsal yesterday.
“Closer,” the wedding coordinator said with a strained smile. “Everyone scoot in.”
From the moment I arrived until now, it’s been one shindig after another: a welcome lunch, a cocktail hour, a rehearsal dinner, and a bridesmaid brunch. I’ve met so many aunts and uncles I can’t tell anyone apart anymore.
It’s a perfect-storm scenario: an outgoing, gregarious bride from a large family and an outgoing, gregarious groom from an evenlargerfamily. Expanding the guest list even more, Wesley’s parents tacked on a whole slew of people they needed to invite for one reason or another: friends from the golf club, acquaintances from work, business relations. This isn’t a wedding so much as a social event for the entire tri-state area.
We’re at a resort in upstate New York that’s nestled in a valley surrounded by an apple orchard, a pumpkin patch, and a private pond. Fall is in the air. Golden yellow and deep red leaves crunch underfoot. There are close to three hundred guests here for the wedding, and even though the resort could still house a few hundred more, Sonya and Wesley have rented the entire place out. No expense has been spared.
I’m overwhelmed and exhausted, and I’m not even the one getting married.
I’m with Sonya in her suite while she gets ready before the ceremony. Connected to the room is another suite housing the makeup and hair team, who’ve been working their way through all the bridesmaids. I finished a little while ago, and now I sit, watching Sonya get the finishing touches done to her makeup.
“You already look stunning,” I tell her, trying not to sound overly cheesy.
“Don’t,” she says, keeping her eyes closed for the makeup artist. “I can hear the emotion in your voice. If you cry, I’ll cry.”
“Okay, let’s talk about something else. Have you heard from Wesley today? Is that allowed?”
“We haven’t talked since last night. At dinner, the guys were refilling his glass every five seconds, so I have no doubt he’s off somewhere having a nice little nap.”
I smile at the image. “He still has a while to get ready. I’m sure it’ll be fine.”
She sighs. “Ah, the joys of being a man. He’ll take a five-minute shower, shave, and slap some pomade on his hair, and he’ll look like he’s ready to walk the red carpet.”
“Tilt your head back for me,” the makeup artist tells her.
“Well this will all be worth it, I promise. You should see how pretty you look.”
Her phone buzzes on her lap with an incoming text, but since the makeup artist is working on her eyeshadow, Sonya passes her phone over to me.
“Read it for me, will you?”
“It’s from your mom. She says she was able to calm Linda down and everything is good to go. Who’s Linda?”
Sonya groans. “My great-aunt. She took issue with the fact that I didn’t seat her near my grandmother last night at the rehearsal dinner.”
“Surely she understands you’re trying your best.”
“You’d think, but no, she made a big fuss about it.”
“Well try not to worry about all of that now.”
“I won’t. Distract me. Have you talked to Cooper much since you’ve been here?”
Honestly, with everything else going on in my life, I didn’t adequately prepare myself for the fact that I was going to have to face my ex-boyfriend this weekend, and as if life wanted to rip the Band-Aid off for me right away, I saw him the moment I walked into the hotel lobby the day I arrived. He was still just as I remembered: the epitome of boyish charm with his messy blond hair and laid-back California surfer style. He was at the front desk alongside Samantha, checking in.
I paused just inside the entrance with my rolling suitcase, about to turn and flee back outside, but then Cooper looked over his shoulder and caught me, leaving me no time to scramble.
When he first registered me standing there, he didn’t smile. He was too stunned, and then, as if reminding himself to act normal, he gave me a little wave and a half-smile. I walked over—it’s not like I had a choice, I needed to check in as well—and endured the awkward meet and greet.
“Samantha, this is Emelia, my ex-girlfriend.”
