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My grandmother follows, calling out instructions about how to carry the veil.
Roxie shakes her head. “Are we both going to be food pushers like them when we’re older?”
A flash of getting older crosses my mind. Me and Nick, cooking up soup, nibbling brownies, playing checkers… laughing together.
Growing old together.
I pop up out of my seat and walk over to the window near the back door.
My parents’ house has a sprawling backyard, lined with garden beds. Nearly every inch of the grass is covered with some sort of wedding decor: white folding chairs, bows puffing out of the back; an aisle lined in rose petals; white-tablecloth-covered tables, vases bursting with flowers. I can see guests out there, mingling already, even though the ceremony is still an hour out.
I spot my dad and grandfather, standing near Nick’s mother and father. They’re all chatting, laughing, sipping from mugs. I’m sure the carafes of coffee out there are well on their way to empty. Half the town seems to be here, drinking down java just like they do at the diner.
My agent, Clint Callamaro, is out there, too. I spot him speaking with a few other people from LA. They all look slightly sleeker and leaner than the Stillwell crowd. Despite the fact that it’s a sunny June day, most of them are in subdued, dark colors. For a summer backyard wedding, their dark attire looks a little out of place. I can’t help but smile and shake my head.
Roxie joins me by the window. “What?” she asks.
“The LA crowd. You can take the people out of the city, but not the city out of the people.”
She cocks an eyebrow at me. “You always say the weirdest things.”
“How about this one: You can take the girl out of Stillwell…”
She rolls her eyes. “But not Stillwell out of the girl.”
“I feel like I’m finallyhome,” I tell her, with a contented sigh.
She pushes a bowl of fruit salad into my hands. “Eat.”
“Home, and loved.”
She wraps her arm around my shoulder. “Do you see him out there?”
“Not yet.”
“Good. You’re not supposed to see him. That’s the whole point of keeping you in here, and him out there. Why aren’t you eating?”
I do as told, mostly to avoid more nagging. The strawberry is perfectly ripe and sweet. And my family was right: I needed a little food.
The butterflies in my stomach were distracting me, but I’m hungry.
I eat a few bites of melon, pineapple, and another strawberry, then set the dish aside. When my sister hands me a fresh cup of coffee and tells me this is my absolute last chance for caffeine, I take a long sip.
She’s right. Once I have my white wedding dress on, I won’t want to risk spills.
Soon, my mother ushers me to the living room to change. It’s surreal, stepping out of my bathrobe and into the vintage, satin dress. My mother gently tugs the zipper up, while gabbing about how it felt when she wore it.
“Let’s see if we’ve ticked all the boxes,” my sister says, as she watches us from her spot, leaning up against the back of the couch. “We have something old—the dress. Something new—her shoes. Something borrowed…?”
“The brooch,” my mother says. “Technically, it’s still mine.” She pulls it from her pocket and busies herself with pinning it to my dress, up near one of the straps.
It’s fun, being doted on like this by my family. With the flurry of activity around me, I feel as though everything’s taken care of. I don’t have to worry.
All I have to do is walk toward Nick when I’m told to walk. And that won’t be difficult to do. I can’t wait to walk down that aisle to him.
“And I brought her something blue,” Roxie says triumphantly.
“I’m not carrying nutmeg down the aisle,” I tease.
