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"This is why I hate weddings. I always cry." It was true. I'd been to three weddings in my life and ended up crying all over the mother of the bride in every single one of them. All school friends, and one ex-boyfriend who got married and invited me.
Yes, I still cried.
Emotions, huh?
"Here." An elderly lady slipped into the row beside me and offered me a monogrammed handkerchief.
“Oh. I can't, possibly–" I shook my head, pushing a hand away, but she insisted. Finally, I caved, smiling gratefully
"Are you friends with the groom?" my elderly neighbour asked.
I swiped at my eyelashes and below. Barely any colour came off onto the handkerchief in my hand. Thank God for waterproof mascara.
"No. I'm the date Ford...” I looked up, losing track of where they all stood and pointed him out. “He’s my date. Just for tonight." Or I’m his. Was one more right than wrong? I puzzled over the phrasing for a moment.
“Oh, yes. They look so good." She folded her hands neatly on her lap, holding her bag there and faced forward.
"Are you family?" I asked, looking at the stylish little lady.
Her hair was shot with silver and twisted elegantly around her head, no dye jobs in sight.Life goals.
"Oh, no. I came in from the street." She nodded, smiling.
I paused. "You don't know them?"No more than I do.
"Oh, no. I like to go to weddings. It reminds me of my own wee man. He passed in the war." She grabbed her purse a little tighter
"Which war?” I asked without thinking. “I'm sorry."
"Don't apologize. To be honest, I don't even remember their names now. Just lots and lots of years gone by. Celebrate life. Celebrate love.” She tapped me smartly on my knee.
I smiled. “I definitely need to do that."
“We all do.” She grabbed my hand with her gnarled one, holding on tight.
Music swelled around us. We both turned to watch the bridesmaids’ parade, but my attention kept drifting back to Ford, and I missed the bride completely.
His gaze flicked to me and held, and I was lost for a decent slice of time. When the bride and groom kissed, Ford had his groomsmen duties to attend to, and the contact broke, leaving me floundering. His attention found somewhere else and held.
A blonde in an ice blue dress and the boobs to fill it out waved at him from the opposite side of the aisle, grabbing my attention. He stared at her woodenly, his eyes hard, full of anger.
The emotions the wedding brought on were replaced by a tsunami of whatever Ford felt, hitting my chest hard. I gasped for breath, looking down to make a comment to my little old lady, but the spot beside me stood empty. I half rose, glancing over my shoulder at the door, but she disappeared as though she was never there at all.
I turned back in time to find Ford standing right in front of me. I let out a little croaking sound, and flew backwards.
"You’re jumpy, Neesh,” Ford murmured, sliding his arm across my lower back and crushing me against his chest. I grabbed his shirt, remembering too late that I wasn't supposed to crinkle it and let go. "It's okay. I could use a hug." He rolled his shoulders, the muscle still ticking in his jaw.
“Is that where this relationship is going? You pay me, and I provide you a service? That’s not very romantic," I admonished him.
The biddies in the row behind gasped.
I really didn't care, especially as Ford’s grim face split in a broad grin.
“Can you be sassier?”
“You have no idea.” I toyed with the buttons on the shirt, looking up at him. "So, what happens now? Have you got groomsmen duties to go to?"
"I do. We’ve already done photos, but I think there's more on some other stuff –" He waved a hand vaguely backward toward where the rest of the party called out to him. "I'll be a second," he yelled out over the crowd.
