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None of that matters, though. It’s her smile that makes her so beautiful. Beaming ear to ear, glossy lips, sparkling eyes. Proud to be on her sister’s arm. As she should be.
My eyes fill with tears.
Every guest holds their breath as Gillian walks down the aisle, flanked by Kent and Dana. An orchestral version of a Frank Sinatra song accompanies them.
“Oh, Drew,” Victoria says, glancing back at me. “Don’t forget your tissue.”
“I’m fine, I’m…” I’m not going to cry. That’s pathetic. Depressing.
I just can’t shake away the image of Dana walking down the aisle toward me someday. God. I want that.
As the trio passes our row, Dana remains steadfast in her mission to bear Gillian to Axel. Kent, on the other hand, becomes distracted by baby Tana gurgling for him. He blows her a quick kiss. Victoria bounces Tana on her hip.
Once they reach Axel under a canopy of flowers, I know all hope of being strong is lost for me. Gillian goes first to Dana, wrapping her arms around her older sister. I have a perfect view of Dana’s face from here. And that bold smile, that confidence, all breaks at once. Tears start to stream down her cheeks. “It hasn’t even started and I’m crying,” I swear I hear her whisper.
Gillian laughs. Then, it’s Kent’s turn to give her away.
Dana steps into the line of bridesmaids, between Kira and Lola, and takes a deep breath.
You got this, D.
Her eyes find mine.
Shit, did she hear me?
And, thankfully, she smiles.
I smile back.
She wipes at her cheek.
I mirror her. And without realizing it, I’d let a tear escape.
“Please be seated.”
* * *
“I guessyou should hold my hand or something,” Dana says.
We’re standing awkwardly together at a tall table, both holding cocktails and sipping them in order to avoid speaking.
“Do you want me to hold your hand?”
Dana shrugs.
Great, that makes me feel just great. “Let’s just be natural.”
“How can we be natural in a situation like this?” Dana asks.
I sigh. From the second she walked in, things have been off. I tried to keep things light and easy by complimenting her dress, but she immediately flushed and changed the topic of conversation. Wrong move on my part, clearly.
One of the cater waiters walks by and I stop them for a spoonful of poke. I slide it into my mouth, realizing the fact I’m preoccupied and don’t have to talk.
“So, my sisters know.”
I nearly spit out my tuna. “What?” I ask.
“Don’t talk with your mouth full,” she admonishes the same way she does one of her nieces.
