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“I’ll admit, if there’s anyone on the planet I’d want to go through that with, it’d be you,” Becca said.
I kissed her forehead. “Same here.”
The reception venue was a gorgeous event hall rumored to have hosted Rockefeller’s wedding receptions. Decadent marble columns flanked either side entrance, which was stationed on top of an austere stone staircase. I helped Becca up the stairs and let Jasmine whisk her away to change into her reception dress. Technically, Becca’s mother wanted her to remain in her original dress until after the toast, but there was no way in hell Becca would be able to sit down in that thing, and it was already in tatters.
I smiled when I saw Becca in her reception dress, the soft, gauzy material accentuated her curves rather than trying to hide them.
“That’s better,” she said. She’d also changed into a pair of simple white sandals and wiggled her toes happily.
“You look radiant,” I said. I kissed her once more. We stood outside the banquet hall until the Emcee announced our names, then we charged into the hall hand in hand. Our friends hooted and cheered for us. Rebecca’s Mother noticed her wardrobe change and grimaced. But Becca ignored her.
“You were supposed to wait until after the toast to change,” Mrs. Cavanaugh hissed as we took our seats at the long table at the front of the hall.
“I was dying in that dress. You saw! It was shredded.”
“It wouldn’t shred if you weren’t so determined to let yourself go! How much weight have you gained? Thirty pounds?”
“Its none of your business,” Becca shot back.
Waiters wearing suit jackets started passing around appetizers. I rested my hand on the small of Rebecca’s back.
“Just because you’re married doesn’t mean you can devolve—“
“Mrs. Cavanaugh, stop!” I yelled. My voice reverberated throughout the hall. I was significantly louder than I intended.
“Excuse me?” She spat, her eyebrows skyrocketing. Little did she know, two could play this game.
“I’m sick of you berating Rebecca for literally existing! She’s gorgeous! She’s the kindest person I’ve ever met! She’s a wonderful businesswoman, and I’m proud to call her my wife.” The hall had gone quiet.
“But she’s- she’s gained—" Mrs. Cavanaugh stuttered.
“Mom! I’m pregnant! That’s why the dress didn’t fit!” Rebecca snapped. Mrs. Cavanugh’s jaw hit the floor as her eyes flitted back and forth between Rebecca’s belly and her untouched glass of champagne.
“Since when?”
“I’m eighteen weeks along,” Becca supplied. “It’s twins,” I added.
“Rebecca, how could—"
Now, it was Mr. Cavanaugh’s turn to save the day. “My baby girl’s having babies? Oh, Regina, come off it; this is wonderful news! Congratulations!” He clapped me on the shoulder.
“Yeah, congrats!” Jay echoed from the other end of the table.
“A toast! To Rebecca and Sebastian and their family!” Simon called. The guests echoed the sentiment and clinked glasses.
“Congrats, honey,” my mom said, hugging Becca. After a series of embarrassing toasts from Jasmine and Simon, we took to the dance floor. I cradled Becca as we danced to an Etta James cover; the singer crooned as Mrs. Cavanaugh seethed. The caterer stopped her to tell her that the cake had been delivered to the wrong venue. She stormed out of the room, fuming.
“What are you supposed to do without a cake?” Jasmine asked.
I fished my keys out of my suit jacket and tossed them to her, “There’s a grocery store like five minutes away from here; see if they have a red velvet cake in the bakery section,” I suggested.
Twenty minutes later, Becca and I were pelting each other with grocery store cake. I smudged a line of frosting across her face, and she got me back, cramming a handful of cake into my hair. There was a separate sheet cake for the guests. Becca used her baker finesse to cut the cake into slices in record time. People were laughing and talking, alternating between congratulating us on our marriage and the pregnancy. By seven, the skies had cleared. The sunset streamed into the venue, turning the chandeliers that bobbed above us into colorful kaleidoscopes.
I settled back into my seat and ate a forkful of cake.
“So, Mrs. Steele, was this wedding everything you dreamed of?” I asked.
Becca laughed. “It was definitely something I’ll always remember! I’m glad we got a real cake. The other one tasted like sand.”
