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Hannah
It’s Jameson and Millie’s big day, and everyone is rushing around to put last-minute touches on decorations, double checking that the caterers have everything under control, and making sure the flowers are all still alive. The photographer is walking around, snapping pictures all over the place. The excitement in the air is contagious. I don’t think Millie has stopped smiling since the moment she woke up this morning. Lo, Millie’s seventeen-year-old sister, seems to rotate between smiling and crying. I’ve never seen anyone more excited for a wedding that isn’t their own. The girl loves her big sister.
Truthfully, I’ve never been so excited for a wedding either. Millie and Lo have been through so much over the years. Their mother walked out on them when Lo was only two months old, and their father passed away from cancer almost two years ago. It has been just the two of them ever since. I’m so happy Millie and Jameson found each other. They’re perfect together. And Jameson and Lo’s relationship is adorable. He acts like he’s been her big brother since the day she was born. Great, now I’m starting to tear up, and the makeup artist is going to have to completely redo my makeup.
I grab a tissue and dab under my eyes and fan my face to get my emotions under control. Tess walks up beside me and nudges me in the side. “You can’t start crying, too,” she says with a wobbly voice. “I’m already having a hard time controlling myself while watching Lo. If you start crying, I’ll be a goner.”
“I’m not crying. There’s just something in my eye—an eyelash or something,” I protest.
“Liar. If you were wearing pants right now, they’d be on fire,” Tess says with a laugh.
“Good thing I’m in a dress, then!”
Jameson’s mom and nana come into the room to tell us that it’s time to line up at the back of the chapel, and Millie shows her first sign of nerves of the day. She checks her reflection in the mirror, straightens her veil, and smooths down the front of her dress.
“You look absolutely beautiful,” Jameson’s mom, Joan, tells her. The two of them hug each other tightly. “All of you do,” she adds to the rest of us in the room.
“Even me?” Lily, Tess’s three-year-old daughter, asks. She’s the flower girl, and I’ve never seen anything more precious than the sight of her in her poofy, pink dress.
“Especially you!” Millie says with a laugh. It’s true. She’s going to steal the show.
We all take deep breaths and head out of the bridal suite. We line up at the back of the little chapel, and Joan and Eilleen walk down the aisle. As soon as they’re seated in the front row, they nod to the pianist to start the music. Tess encourages Lily to walk down the aisle toward her dad, who’s crouched down at the front of the chapel. She twirls her way down the aisle, spilling fake flower petals out of her little basket along the way. The crowd of people watch her adoringly with laughter. She’s halfway down the aisle when she sees her dad. She runs the rest of the way to him and leaps into his arms. He carries her to their seats, and then Tess starts her walk down the aisle.
I walk down next, and holy smokes, my eyes have never seen anything as heavenly as the sight of Seth in that suit, standing beside Jameson. It’s navy blue, with a crisp white shirt, and a dusty-pink bowtie that perfectly matches the bridesmaids’ dresses. Today is not about him; he shouldn’t be allowed to look that good. Now I won’t be able to focus on anything going on in the ceremony, and it’s all his fault.
I stand in my spot and stare at him. Who cares if all of these happy wedding-goers see me drooling over him? It’s not every day that I get to see the man of my every waking dream in a suit, looking like Prince Charming himself. My eyes need to get their fill before this day is over. Seth looks over at me and catches me staring. He gives me a crooked smirk as if he knows what’s going on in my head. I take it back. I will try to chill, only so that he won’t catch me watching him all day. I may not care too much about what everyone else thinks, but I do care about what Seth thinks, as annoying as that may be.
Lo moves to stand beside me, and then all of the wedding guests stand as Millie begins walking down the aisle. Jameson’s grandpa—or Pop, as everyone calls him—is escorting her, and that’s my last straw. Tears are now streaming down my face at an alarming rate. I look at Tess and Lo and see that I am not alone. I look over at Jameson, and there’s not a dry eye over there either. At this rate, we’ll have enough tears to fill the gulf.
I watch as Seth tries to compose himself, and I have a moment where I imagine that he’s the groom watching his own bride walk down the aisle. I wish I weren’t torturing myself by imagining that I got to be the bride. I know it’s not healthy, and it certainly won’t help me move on. But I can’t help it. He’s the only man I’ve ever loved. Picturing myself with someone else just feels weird…but believe me, I’ve tried.
I’ve been on dates with a few guys—some really nice and others not so much. But it never mattered either way; I never felt a spark with any of them. I spent every date comparing those men to Seth. Seth’s funnier. Seth’s curly hair is better than his straight, limp hair. Seth has a better smile. I could go on and on for days, listing the little things about Seth that make him so appealing to me. Now I can add looks amazing in a tux to the ever-expanding list.
The ceremony goes by in a flash, and the wedding party walks back down the aisle to the applause and cheers of all the guests. I’m holding onto Seth’s very muscular arm as he ushers me down the aisle on my shaky legs. He leans in close to whisper in my ear, and the smell of his cologne has me going weak in the knees. I want to bathe in that scent, spritz it on my pillow before going to bed every night.
“You look gorgeous in that dress,” he says, and I think I’ve gone into cardiac arrest. Seth Miller has never in my life used the word gorgeous or any of its many synonyms to describe my appearance. When I was eighteen years old, about to go to my senior prom, he told me I looked nice. Nice, for crying out loud! While I was wearing a fluffy, blue formal gown and had my hair styled in an intricate updo that took the hairstylist well over an hour of meticulous work to achieve. I looked like freaking Cinderella ready to meet the prince at the ball, and nice was the best adjective he could come up with. To say I was crushed would be an understatement. I contemplated just staying home that night.
“Thanks, so do you,” I say before realizing my blunder. “Err, handsome, I mean. Not gorgeous. Well, I’m not saying you’re not gorgeous—because you are—but I don’t think men like being called gorgeous. You look really good. Okay, I’ll stop talking now.”
We’re at the back of the chapel by the time I stop rambling, and Seth is barely containing his laughter. I point to the bathroom and say, “I’m just going to go in there and die now.” I let go of his arm and rush into the bathroom without a second thought.
It isn’t the women’s bathroom… And I may have just given Mr. Harvey, my elderly high school history teacher, a heart attack while the poor guy was just trying to pee. I stand there in stunned silence until a man walks in behind me, looking very surprised to find me there. I run out of the bathroom and back into the lobby that’s now filling up with wedding guests. I see Seth standing off to the side, laughing at my blunder. He points in the direction of the women’s bathroom, and I run inside. Everything is going just swell.
The reception is in full swing now. People are eating and dancing, and I’m watching as Joey, the little boy from the library, swipes what I believe to be his third cupcake with pink icing of the evening. I’ve been holding down the fort in this chair, desperately trying not to fall asleep, for quite a while, and I know it’s at least three cupcakes. Could be more. I did doze for a second. He’s getting progressively bolder and spastic as the evening wears on. I’ve scanned the room for his mom several times but haven’t seen her anywhere.
I watch in horror as an older lady in an elegant blue dress tries to tell Joey to stay away from the sweets, but the boy throws his cupcake in her face before she can finish the sentence. Her beautiful, once-regal face is now covered in pink icing. Some drips from the tip of her nose onto her generous bosom. I did not see that coming. Joey is one of the sweetest kids to come to the library. Why on earth is he acting like a demon-spawn?
My eyes widen to the size of the moon when I remember what Millie told me on Thursday about Joey and his reaction to red dye. And I’m assuming that pink icing piled on top of those cupcakes has loads of red dye. Really, how bad could it be, though? Sure, he did throw a cupcake at an innocent bystander mere seconds ago, but the icing will wash off her face. And I’m guessing it’s not good that he’s trying to strip out of his tiny little suit in the middle of this decidedly G-rated reception—oh my gosh, he’s pulling his pants down.
I run over to him, pull his pants back up, and look around to see if anyone witnessed his streaking attempt. Seth is standing against a wall with one of his old high school flames hanging on his arm, watching me and trying to keep a straight face. He’s not succeeding, and he swipes his hand over his mouth.
I turn my attention back to Joey and ask him, “Sweetie, how many cupcakes did you eat?” He doesn’t answer, and he starts pushing on my shoulders and running in place. I fall back on my backside just before someone’s hands grab my arms to help me up.
“Sorry. I tried to catch you,” Seth says behind me. “Where are the kid’s parents?”
“I have no idea. I’ve been looking around for his mom. He’s not supposed to have red dye, but I forgot all about that. He ate at least three of those cupcakes.”
“I’m guessing he caused that?” Seth asks, pointing to the icing-faced woman ranting to all of her friends about the cupcake fiend. She’s watching Joey with a look that says, “Just you wait.” I would try to tell her that he’s usually a sweet kid, but it would fall on deaf ears right now.
