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Logan and the minister are already in position, waiting. I study my best friend’s face. He has a rather sheepish look, that of someone who can’t believe his luck. A week ago, I would’ve snickered at that, calling him a fool. Saying he was digging his own grave. No matter how much I liked the bride, I still thought Logan was crazy for getting married barely a year after they’d met. Well, fast forward to the present and a fewdaysseems like a reasonable amount of time to decide who to spend the rest of my life with.
Lana and I reach the altar and head in opposite directions. I take my position on the right next to the groom, while she goes on the left. Logan and I clasp hands in a comradeship gesture, and then our gazes snap to the back of the church. Him, waiting for his bride; me, for my bridesmaid.
Even if I’ve been dying to see her all morning, when Summer makes her appearance next to Tucker I’m not prepared at all. Initially, she’s hidden behind my friend and I only glimpse a flash of white-blonde hair and pink fabric. But when they reach the center of the aisle and she turns to face me… I… I fight to keep my mouth shut and not have my jaw open like the dumbstruck fool I am.
Summer is even more beautiful than usual. It must be the makeup, but her face looks like someone applied a Photoshop filter to make her skin more radiant, her lips fuller, and her eyes bigger. But to me, the most beautiful Summer will always be the one who’s just woken up, hair in a tousled mess on the pillow, not an ounce of makeup on her face, and a little secret smile on her lips that I put there the night before.
Now, she isn’t smiling. And it’s my fault.
To a casual observer, she’d appear fine, but I know better and can read the minor details. Like the tautness of her jaw. The slight downward curve of her mouth. And her eyes, which would usually fight to find me in a room, turned away.
Her stare is pointed straight ahead, and so lifeless it might as well belong to a robot.
Please look at me,I chant in my head as she walks toward me. Come on, look up. Look at me.
When I’m about to lose hope she’ll meet my gaze, her eyes lock on mine and it’s the most powerful sensation I’ve ever experienced. My stomach drops as if I were free-falling, my head spins, and my heart beats so fast it might jump out of my rib cage and go prostrate itself at her feet. Is this what being in love feels like?
No, I prefer thinking that to be in love is to lie in bed next to the other person without a care in the world and wishing you were nowhere else. It’s having my heart jump in my throat because a message from her has arrived when I wasn’t expecting it. Or counting the minutes until a stupid bachelor party will be over so I can run back to her. Or feeling like the luckiest man on Earth whenever she kisses me.
What I’m experiencing right now isn’t love; it’s fear, pure and primal. A cold dread that I’ve ruined everything with my indecision.
Winter reaches the altar. I didn’t even notice the bride make her entrance, and I spot her now only because she cuts into my view of her sister. Logan hurries to take Winter’s hand. A goofy, what-did-I-do-to-deserve-you smile stamped on his lips. And for the second time in a few minutes, I can’t help but think,You lucky bastard.
The bride and groom reach their positions at the altar and free my vision field again. I’m worried Summer might have dropped her gaze, but her eyes are there, waiting for me, giving me hope.
All I need is a second chance, and I won’t screw up this time.
24
SUMMER
The ceremony is romantic and sweet.
The groom is dashing in his tux, and sure and calm as he professes his undying love for the woman standing by his side. Only a trace of happy tears glistens in his eyes, giving away the depth of his emotions.
The bride’s voice trembles the slightest bit while she’s in the middle of her vows, but she recovers quickly and, with a resplendent smile, is able to finish without crying.
The guests follow the celebration of love in moved silence while the mother of the bride’s sobs can be heard in the background.
The only hiccup comes when the best man has to be nudged by his fellow groomsman to bring the rings forward. Apparently, he was too busy staring at one of the bridesmaids—me—to realize his big moment had come.
How do I feel about it all?
So confused.
Weddings are too emotional. I shouldn’t be forced to reflect on my love life while attending one.
The way Archie is staring at me, he could ask me to be his casual fling for the rest of our lives and I’d gladly say yes. That’s why I have to avoid him at all costs. Tomorrow morning the party will be over. Winter and Logan will go on their honeymoon. My parents will head back to Pasadena. And Archie will be off to Berkley, out of my life for good. I have to resist for twenty-four hours, tops. I can do it.
It’s easy to avoid him in the melee that follows the happy couple out of the chapel. Two groups form outside, ready to throw rice at the bride and groom as they exit the church. I make sure Archie and I are on opposite sides.
Before moving to the reception, we have to pose for a few pictures. But it’s all very orchestrated: bridesmaids on one side, groomsmen on the other, now only the bride and bridesmaids, groom and groomsmen, let’s switch it up, bring the parents in, and we’re done. No occasion to talk.
Next, the reception. The weather has been nice, allowing for lunch to be served outside.
The party will take place on a portion of the estate opposite the vineyard. This patch of green, short-cut lawn is enclosed by tall, majestic trees—a clearing in a magical forest straight out of a storybook. The seating area has been staged to perfection: a rectangular raised stage under a white pole structure resembling a house with no walls. Crystal chandeliers dangle from the high middle pole, and white canvas with wide gaps between them serve as a roof. Long, rectangular tables fill the entire space, each decorated with green and white flower centerpieces and lined by King Louis XVI chairs with an oval back, white upholstery, and a natural wooden structure.
It’s what I imagine happily ever after looks like, which only serves to remind me why Archie and I can’t be together. Because I want this for myself one day. Not the fabled wedding, or to be the princess at the ball. But what comes next. The feet rubs at the end of a long day, the movie nights with takeout, lazy Sunday mornings spent in bed making love, the spontaneous weekend trips, the dinners cooked side by side, and all the sweet nothings exchanged in between. I want to share all my sunrises and sunsets with that special person who knows every ugly detail of me and still loves me unconditionally. I want a man who loves me so completely he wants to spend the rest of his life with me, and not be afraid to pledge that love in front of all our friends and family.
