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The girls all gathered around as she unwrapped the tissue paper to reveal an old photo of Laney and Ethan from when we were at Senior Week, a tradition for East Coast high school graduates to spend a week sans parents at gross beach rentals where they’d all get sunburned and drink cheap beer. In the picture, Ethan had his arm slung around Laney, and she was turned to him, her head tipped back as she laughed. I could almosthearthat photo, and I choked up, thinking of us as kids, of all the fun we’d had with our friends, and of course, the shadow of grief that always followed me around.
“Oh my god. So sweet.” Bronte sniffed, dabbing a tissue at her eyes.
Sam took the photo to study it. “That’s so thoughtful.”
“What’s the card say?” Gem grabbed at the accompanying envelope.
Laney ripped it open, reading out loud, “This is our beginning, but our journey is far from over. See you at the end of the aisle. I love you. –E. PS: I hope your dress shows off your tits.”
“Jesus Christ,” I growled, slapping my hands over my ears as all the girls howled in laughter, Laney the loudest.
“Oh god, I love him so much,” she said eventually, pressing the card to her chest, the picture set up on the vanity in front of her. “I can’t wait to marry him.”
“Well, then let’s get you ready,” another woman with a tool belt of brushes said, nudging me out of the way.
I stepped back, afraid to interfere anymore, and was about to leave when the hair stylist stopped me. She slipped a business card into my hand. “If you ever need a haircut.”
Then she winked.
I didn’t know how to respond and darted my gaze to Laney, who had witnessed the exchange. She pushed Gem toward us. “See if you can do anything with this bedhead, Bonnie.”
Taking the hint, Bonnie set to work on Gem’s hair, and I tipped my chin to my sister. “I’ll be back in a bit.”
“You going to pick up Taylor?”
I nodded and turned to the door, my sister’s voice trailing me. “I made a bet with Ethan about you two. He owes me ten bucks!”
“Make sure you cover up that zit on your chin!”
She gasped. “Rude!”
I waved my hand behind my head, then promised my mom I would be back in plenty of time before jogging out the front door and back to my car.
At home, I showered again and carefully trimmed my beard. I kept it short but made sure it was always soft and well-groomed. It was light brown, a few shades darker than my blond hair, which I had just gotten cut yesterday, ironically. I smoothed it with some product before spritzing myself with cologne.
My stomach roiled with nerves. It wasn’t even my wedding, and yet my jitters grew with every minute that ticked closer.
I packed an overnight bag, dressed in my gray tuxedo, and double-checked that I had everything before heading out with my guitar case slung over my shoulder. I had about half an hour to pick up Taylor and get back to my parents’ house, which was cutting it close, but a leopard couldn’t change its spots, even for my sister’s big day.
I parked right outside of Taylor’s building and found her waiting inside the small lobby. My jog slowed when I spotted her until I outright froze, the door halfway open, my breath rushing out of me like I’d been punched in the gut.
She had punched me in the gut.
Her dark hair was pin straight as usual, but it gleamed almost black, and she had the side clipped back, revealing diamond earrings dangling down the slope of her neck. She angled slightly in profile as she checked her mailbox, so I could see how her dress—Jesus, her dress—was completely backless yet clung to every part of her like it was painted on. With long sleeves and a hemline that hit at her knees, it was so tight, I didn’t know how she could walk. I clutched my chest, forcing myself to breathe, hoping she couldn’t hear my heartbeat. Because it was surround sound to me.
Once I stepped inside, the door swung closed, and she pivoted to face me. I was struck all over again.
God, she was gorgeous. I wasn’t sure if I’d ever noticed before. The gentle slope of her cheekbones, the length of her eyelashes, the bow of her top lip.
I swallowed past the desert in my throat. “You look…”
She inclined her head, probably waiting for some disparaging comment.
“You look beautiful.”
Her normally cold expression melted into something warmer. With her amber eyes soft and berry-painted mouth curving from its usual hard slash, I had a glimpse of the first flower peeking up through the last frost of springtime. “Thank you.”
“Are you ready?”
