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As we walk down the aisle, all eyes are on us, and being so close to her is driving my senses wild. With the scent of her perfume and the essence of her skin, I so desperately want to pull her aside and talk to her, but not before kissing her beautiful lips and owning her in every possible way.
But cameras are shoved in our faces and surround us wherever we turn.
Outside, people throw rice at the happy couple.
Rocky, being a sports junkie, throws a hard shot at Elijah, smacking him in the face. I burst out laughing alongside Rocky, but Elijah shoots us an annoyed look while spitting out rice from his mouth.
Charlotte is pulled away to take photographs, the loss of contact unbearable, but I have to ignore the pang as I stand there watching her and the beauty she portrays, and I can’t help feeling sick but a good sick. Like that butterfly feeling that makes you want to puke. Okay, that came out wrong, but all I know is that I can’t take my eyes off her no matter how hard I try.
The photographer steps back for a moment, allowing me to talk to her. With every step I take, the words jumble in my mind unable to form a sentence. This feeling of no control is unsettling.
“Hi.” It’s all I manage as I stare into her eyes, completely at a loss for words.
“Hi, yourself.”
The photographer grabs us once again, and before we know it, we are lost in the wedding chaos. The Rolls Royces pull up to the church, and we’re separated yet again.
It shouldn’t be a long drive to the reception, but, of course, in wedding tradition, a million pictures need to be taken from a pose by the pond, under the tree, against the cars, in the cars, you name it, and it is done—three times! It’s fucking freezing out here, and Bridezilla demands we take our coats off for the pictures.
The photographer suggests a picture of the bridal party with their respective partners.
Again, I think it might be a chance to speak to her.
As we pose beside the frozen pond, the fussy photographer snaps pictures, directing us every which way. Beside me, Charlotte’s skin is shivering, and I don’t blame her since she wore only the dress with nothing covering her. Adriana has a death wish, I’m certain of that.
With disregard for the photographer’s directions, I remove my suit jacket and place it around Charlotte’s shoulders, worried she’ll experience hyperthermia and so will the baby.
“Thank you.” She smiles, her teeth chattering.
“Um… Lex, what are you doing? We need one more photo?” Adriana barks.
“It’s fucking freezing. Seriously, for the love of God, let’s go.”
“Fine.” Adriana’s teeth chatter as she crosses her arms to protect herself from the cold. “You win. Now, let’s get this party started.”
Once again, chaos disrupts as the wedding coordinator commands everyone to back into their designated cars but not without warning us of our upcoming responsibilities upon entering the reception hall.
On the drive over, sitting with Elijah’s cousin and friend, we crack open the bourbon and cheer to the groom sitting in the car in front of us. When we finally arrive, and with the alcohol settling nicely in my nervous system, we’re asked to escort our partners once again for the grand entrance into the room.
“We meet again, and thanks for the jacket,” Charlotte offers with a smile as she laces her arm in mine.
“Remind me never to get married in winter…” The second it leaves my mouth, I instantly regret it. What the fuck is wrong with me?
Charlotte’s shoulders move up and down as she laughs. “I don’t like winter either, so at least we agree.”
“Sorry, I meant—”
We’re interrupted as our names are called. Together, we walk through the double doors to a cheering crowd, then take our seats at the table.
I’m seated next to Elijah. It doesn’t bother me until he keeps leaning over to his other side and kisses Adriana. It’s fucking awkward, and the champagne they serve is for pussies. Just before the starters is to be served, I decide to make a quick dash to the men’s room then grab something hard at the bar.
On my way there, I run into Rocky and Nikki in the hallway. I could swear she had her hair in a bun at the church, and now it’s out, sitting messily on her shoulders.
“Babe, can you excuse us for a second?” Nikki asks Rocky.
He walks back into ballroom with a giant smirk on his face. That fucker just got blown. Nikki’s lipstick appears fresh as if it was reapplied minutes ago. I wouldn’t put it past them.
“First of all, that prank you pulled wasn’t funny. However, it serves him right for begging for the floorshow.”
