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"What I'm trying to say, Damien, is that you should ignore anyone who tells you it's too soon. You love Kate, right?"
"I do." Those two simple words, ones that I'll utter for real in a few minutes, leave a lump in my throat. "But, Dad?"
His eyebrows lift. "Yes?"
"I asked her to marry me so she could have health insurance. She has a chronic illness and has nothing. I love her. I've loved her for years. And I wanted—" I take a huge inhale. "I wanted her to be taken care of in case something happens to me in Syria."
Why did I tell him that? Jesus. I'm going to ruin this whole day.
Dad sets his scotch down on a table then stuffs his hands in his pockets.
"I'm proud of you, Damien."
I blink at the floor. "I thought you'd be pissed."
He shakes his head. "I'm proud of you for wanting to take care of her. For making her life easier. For thinking of someone other than yourself."
"I'm fucking crazy about her, too."
Dad runs a hand through his shock of silver hair. "Then love her a thousand percent until you leave, and when you get back, never let her go. I can tell how much you care for her. I can see it in the way your eyes linger on her, the way you reach for her hand, the way you search for her in a room filled with people. And she's a mirror of you. She loves you. Take all those feelings you have for each other and build on them."
It might be the most words I've ever heard come out of Dad's mouth on the topic of emotions. Shocking. For the first time since I was a kid, I reach for my father. We embrace, and I'll be damned if I'm not fighting back tears.
"And nothing's going to happen to you in Syria. You'll be home before you know it," he says in a rough voice. "Now let's do this wedding."
kate
. . .
"You look absolutely amazing."Lauren's eyes are watery as she pushes herself toward me on her scooter. She's begrudgingly chosen that over the crutches.
The scooter is black, and someone's tied a white ribbon to the handlebars. She's wearing the most beautiful blue chiffon dress with fluttery long sleeves, and I feel so bad that she has the air cast on her leg.
"Don't you move; it's okay. Save your energy for the aisle." I hold out my hand and walk to her. "Thank you for being here. And really, you didn't have to walk down the aisle."
She grins and shrugs. "I'm not in any pain, and I kind of like the idea of rolling down the aisle with Max at my side. I'm here for you. You need someone to stand up there with you. Plus, I have Damien's ring." She pats a silver sparkly satchel that's slung around her shoulder.
I'll have to have a conversation with her about Max, but not now. Not when my stomach feels like it's filled with pop rocks, all fizzy and unsettled.
"I hear the music. I think that's my cue." Lauren sweeps a tendril of my hair out of my face. "You're a beautiful bride. Truly. I'm happy for you. Really."
Leaning toward my best friend, I embrace her gently. "Thank you. I love you."
"I love you too, Katie. Everything's going to be okay."
Out the corner of my eye, I see Max in the doorway, looking handsome in his tuxedo. He clears his throat.
"Coming!" Lauren trills, and she maneuvers the scooter around and zooms over to him.
He grins at her. "Jesus, you're sexy on that scooter," he remarks, leaning down to kiss her cheek. She giggles, and they roll out of the room.
I blow out a little laugh. What if Lauren and Max fall in love? Wouldn't that be hilarious? And awesome?
I hear the strains of the wedding music, played by a guitarist friend of Remy's. This is my five minute warning. Five minutes to be alone. Five minutes to collect my thoughts. Five minutes left of being a single woman.
Five minutes to...pee.
Thank God I'm not in a huge wedding dress; I'd bought a simple, boho-inspired white gown that's delicate and feminine. No train, no veil. Only tiered flounces of soft silk georgette and hand embroidered flower details around the bust.
