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Once my mom had zipped me up and arranged the dress how she wanted, she guided me over to the floor-length mirror to help me into my shoes. I’d picked up my off-the-shoulder, long-sleeved cream dress from a secondhand store in town. The lace bodice managed to hug my breasts without cutting off my air, and the skirt fell in a loose column. It’d been Tiffany’s uncharacteristic suggestion to have fun with the shoes, so Val had helped me pick out chestnut-brown leather booties to fit the outdoor setting of our ceremony and reception.
I turned to the side, checking myself from all angles. The long lace sleeves bared only my shoulders. The toes of my booties stuck out from under the hem. I wasn’t the most stylish, most glamorous, or the sexiest bride in the world, but I looked like myself—a woman about to walk down the aisle to the man she loved. Luckily, Manning made me feel sexy no matter what I wore. Still, I smiled to myself knowing I had some special wedding lingerie for him later.
As I started to turn away from the mirror, my gaze snagged on my right hand. The deep purple color of the mood ring Manning had slid onto my finger in the boat was vibrant against the cream lace. It had turned that color the night I’d found my way back to Manning in Big Bear, after we’d eaten and argued and cried and made love—and I wasn’t sure it’d changed since. That purple was our shade of happiness and the reason I’d chosen a plum color scheme for the wedding. Manning giving it to me on the lake the night before was no coincidence. I did have something borrowed after all. I considered it Madison’s ring first, and a symbol of her presence.
I flexed my hand against the dress one last time, then turned back to Mom, Tiffany, and Val. “I’m ready.”
* * *
On a warm summer evening, I stood on my back porch overlooking friends and family as I prepared to marry my best friend. A violinist played over the murmurs of the crowd, the sun orange as it began to lower behind the mountains and trees. Manning and his friends had organized our backyard with wooden folding chairs divided by an aisle lined with lit lanterns.
Of my five bridesmaids, one was from Pomona, and the other two had driven in from Los Angeles. The audience had seemingly arranged itself—friends from New York took up one row, while other sections had been taken over by Californians, grad school classmates, or locals Manning and I had befriended. Tiffany blew Robby a kiss from her bridesmaid post. Val’s normally wry expression warmed and softened as she winked at someone in the second row. That someone had golden hair that was now down to his broad, suited surfer’s shoulders. Corbin had narrowly missed my forcing him to be a bridesmaid.
Opposite of my friends and sister stood Henry, Gary, and a few men in the construction business Manning had become close with since moving to Big Bear.
The bridal party flanked a wedding arch I’d never seen. Crafted of the same honey wood in the house and adorned with cream gauze, ivy, pinecones, and white twinkle lights, I understood why I’d known nothing about it. It had to be a wedding gift to me from Manning. At the foot of one side of the arch, Blue wore a harness with a pouch for her role as ring bearer.
I looked everywhere but at Manning. Once I did, that would be it for me. I’d never been the same girl after Manning and I had met eyes on the street all those years ago, and I wouldn’t be the same woman once I saw him waiting on his bride.
With his thoughtfulness filling my heart, I descended the porch to meet my dad at the base of the steps. He offered me his elbow. “You look like one of those princesses in the fairytales you watched as a young girl.”
I smiled. “All Tiffany’s doing.”
“I have no doubt.” We looped arms, and he guided me toward the aisle. “Are you nervous?”
“No,” I answered and finally met Manning’s gaze. Undoubtedly, his eyes had been on me the whole time. Everything else fell away, my nose tingling. With a cream rose pinned to his suit lapel to match my bouquet, he adjusted the knot of his black tie and watched my every move with melted-chocolate brown eyes. I wanted to smile at him. To thank him for the love and mastery it’d surely taken to design the back lawn into a rustic paradise—from the arch to the twinkle lights strung in the trees, over chairs, and hanging from the trellis, to the picnic tables he’d rented so we could host the reception here. I wanted to blow him a kiss, call for him, cry tears of joy. But I couldn’t do any of that. Both Manning and I seemed frozen in the moment, just our hearts beating—syncing, as I was certain I actually felt his—and the tether between us pulling me closer and closer to him.
