It’s a terrible day for a wedding.
The sky is dark, the air thick with the threat of rain and further disasters. The deck full of people seated on either side of the flower-strewn aisle looks almost insignificant underneath the relentless stretch of gray. Blue Yonder isn’t earning its name today.
Adam doesn’t care. For as high-strung as he’s been this week, he’s steady as he takes his parents’ arms so they can escort him down the aisle. A tiny smile blossoms when his dad leans over to whisper something. He nods, eyes shining.
And then it’s time to get going. Julia directs them to start down the aisle, and everyone turns in their seats as the string quartet plucks out the first notes of the processional song.
I stare at the broad stretch of Eli’s shoulders in front of me, my heart tapping out a staccato beat. I did my best to salvage my dress—it’s safety- pinned now, but still mud-spattered and wrinkled. The thought of walking down the aisle in front of one hundred pairs of eyes when I look this undone makes my stomach roll.
Eli goes and I start to follow, only to realize my heel’s gotten caught in a loose thread at my hem.
Of course.
“Go ahead,” I whisper to the three groomsmen behind me. Eli turns, hearing the quiet commotion, but I frantically wave him on as I hobble to the side. Jamie’s already stepping out of the line of bridesmaids.
“Just rip it,” I hiss as she lifts my leg to inspect the entanglement. “I’m burning it tomorrow anyway.”
Jamie swallows a laugh, then yanks at the hem. It does rip, but at this point it’s an enhancement. She rises, squeezes my hand, and then steps back into line with a wink and a mouthed, love you.
Though it’s been seconds, it feels like everyone’s been waiting for me to move for days. Time stretches out like a spotlight. When I start my walk down the aisle, my heartbeat drowns out the plucking strings.
I force myself to focus on what’s in front of me. Cole’s the most immediate focal point: he’s standing at the end of the deck under a gorgeous arch that features an explosion of wildflowers in a breathtaking palette. Behind him, the massive oak tree looms, with the rich green sprawl of the vineyard stretching out from there. Adam is to his right, fidgety with anticipation. He gives me a brilliant smile and I smile back, feeling the inevitable tears prickling in my eyes.
And then my gaze drifts to Eli, and in reality I keep walking, but in my mind I’m frozen in the middle of the moment. It’s not for us, but my heart aches imagining a parallel moment where it would’ve been. He’s looking at me like he sees it, too, like it hurts him just as much.
I wish it didn’t hurt still. I wish I knew what it would take to make it stop.
I slide into the space his body’s left for mine, and the quick, warm press of his fingers against my back steadies me when I wobble.
“Those shoes are lethal,” he murmurs in my ear. I pull back to see a trace of a smile on his lips, the storm clouds cleared from his eyes.
I grip my bouquet. “I’m throwing this entire outfit away when I get home. It’s trying to kill me.”
His Adam’s apple presses hard against his throat, a transfixing undulation against his skin. “I think it’s got a vendetta against me, too.”
“Not another victim,” I murmur.
“Sadly.” He skims me from head to toe. It’s quick, maybe three seconds, but it lingers on my skin. “You look so beautiful I can’t feel my knees.”
Shock and heat wind around me. I whisper, “I’m a mess.” “I know,” he whispers back, his eyes deep and pleading.
The music fades, forcibly shifting the moment away from us. Eli exhales; I feel it in my chest. Everyone stands in one fluid motion, and the air thickens with the rustle of clothes, a throat clearing, a sniffle. Then silence settles around us, like a held breath before a thunderclap.
The violin draws out its first note. I look over at Adam, feel the brush of Eli’s breath on my cheek as he does the same, and together we take in the way his expression transforms from anticipation to something so potent I couldn’t give it one name. It’s love and assurance and devotion, the most intense focus. Preternatural calm. I see him playing back every moment that got him and Grace to this point. I see how grateful he is that every second they’ve spent together—good, bad, cursed—has brought them here.
I press a hand over my burning heart.
The music swells, beautiful and bright. Grace turns the corner, gorgeous in an off-the-shoulder, wispy dream of a gown in delicate ivory, her hair falling down her bare back. When she meets his eyes, her face breaks into a smile that’s sun-like, and Adam’s eyes flood with tears.
They don’t stop looking at one another, not even when her dad hugs her and then Adam. Their dizzy-looking smiles are identical as they face each other, clasping hands.
“Hello, wife,” he whispers.
She gives him a radiant look. “Not yet.”
“Hurry,” Adam tells Cole without looking at him, drawing a ripple of laughter from the guests.
It’s as if the sky heard and wanted to get the last word. It rips open, unleashing fat, warm raindrops onto us. There’s a surge of surprised gasps as people scramble under their seats for umbrellas.
“No,” I whisper in dismay, drawing my shoulders up to my ears. Eli’s mouth twitches up, rain caught in his lashes as he gazes at me.
And then there’s laughter—Adam’s and Grace’s, chins tipped back toward the disaster raining down—as the ceremony begins.
 |
Once they’re married, Adam and Grace don’t care about anything. Not the way we’ll be immortalized as a bunch of drowned cats in the group photos taken around the Blue Yonder grounds. Not the way it starts raining again, nor the way the softly rolling hill we used for a series of shots turns
into a small river that sends us all skidding onto our asses. When Grace stands, her dress is brown. It’s the only time Adam looks concerned, but she grins and kisses him until his expression turns euphoric. The photographer circles them, getting every angle.
They don’t care when they hear the tent has sprung a leak, turning the space underneath into a mini mud pit, which snapped a leg of the table holding—wait for it—the cake. Aunt Julia caught it before it fell, but now there are two destroyed sides, prominently displayed on Adam’s grandpa’s ancient poker table.
And when the power goes out as they’re making their grand entrance into the reception, Adam and Grace just look at each other with amusement as the crowd chants “Kiss, kiss, kiss.” Once they get to the dance floor, lit by battery-operated string lights, they do just that to raucous applause. I watch Adam’s mouth form the words, I love you every time he presses a kiss to Grace’s lips—once, twice, again and again—while Isla and her band huddle briefly onstage.
Finally, she and her bandmate come to the very edge of the stage.
“Can you hear me?” Isla calls out. The crowd hoots in response, a wolf whistle that could only come from Cole’s loud mouth piercing the air. She grins. “Good. Leo and I are going to do this acoustically until the generator kicks in.”
Silence falls and then Leo starts plucking out a melody on his guitar.
Adam and Grace sway, lost in their own world.
It’s hard to fully appreciate the way the night is marching on despite the universe’s best efforts to thwart it, though. My brain is stuck on one last disaster as we get closer to dinner, and thus the speeches. Namely, that I don’t have one. Today has been so chaotic I haven’t had time to think about what I’m going to say.
When dinner is served, we make our way to the round table reserved for the wedding party. Eli ends up across from me, sandwiched between two groomsmen while Jamie and Blake flank me. I have a conversation with them. I’m pretty sure I eat my meal, though I taste nothing. I laugh—and cry—through both Grace’s and Adam’s parents’ toasts.
But my brain has turned into a spin cycle of thoughts: snippets from my old speech, the milestones of my friendship with Adam and his relationship with Grace. Eli’s breath on my neck this morning, the way he touched me, the things he said. The things he didn’t, which are hanging around my neck just as heavily. The way I’ve been avoiding him since. I don’t trust myself
—not my fear or my need.
Jamie nudges me. “Julia is waving you up, tenderoni. I think it’s almost your turn.”
I glance toward the dance floor, noticing Eli’s suddenly empty chair. Beyond it, Julia is indeed waving me up to the dance floor. Grace’s maid of honor is wrapping up.
I stand, my heart beating out of my chest, fingers reaching instinctively for my notebook before I remember it’s not there. With a groan, I turn—
And run right into Eli. “Oh,” I gasp out. “Hi.”
“Hi,” he says. “You good?”
“Mm-hmm,” is all I can manage.
His eyebrows form an unimpressed line. “You’ve been green for the past hour.”
“I’m…” I swallow around the easy words, forcing myself to choose the real one instead. “Okay, I’m scared. I don’t want to mess up.”
“That’s not possible,” he says, with so much conviction that some of it transfers to me. “It doesn’t have to be perfect, Georgia. Just true.”
And then he nudges me toward the dance floor, his fingers sweeping down my spine as I walk away.
I sincerely wish the power hadn’t turned back on; looking out at the sea of faces makes my vision swim. I take the mic from Julia, nearly dropping it thanks to my sweating palms.
But when my wild eyes clash with Adam’s and he leans forward, an encouraging smile on his face, I let out a breath.
It doesn’t have to be perfect. Just true.
“Um, I had a speech prepared,” I start shakily. “But in keeping with today’s theme, I lost it, so you’re going to get some cobbled-together
thoughts instead.”
“Who are you?” Adam calls, grinning.
My laugh echoes in the night air. “Oh, right. I’m Georgia, Adam’s best friend for the last sixteen years. Actually, I’m basically the sister he’d never actually want, since he loves being the center of attention.” I raise my eyebrows meaningfully. “As evidenced by the way he’s already taking over my speech.”
Adam boos over the ripple of knowing laughter. “Love you,” Laurie calls from her table.
I grin, feeling some of my tension release. “And if you’re wondering why we’ve been friends for so long, the answer is yes, I’m using him for his amazing parents and unlimited access to Blue Yonder’s incredible wine selection.”
“I didn’t pay her to say that,” Adam’s grandpa shouts, and laughter swells again.
“But honestly, Adam and I have been friends since the day in sixth grade when I complimented his Hannah Montana shirt. The truth is, I’d been crying because I really needed a friend, and I figured anyone who liked Miley Cyrus had to be trustworthy.”
I look over at Adam again, whose amusement has buffed away into soft- focus affection. My throat tightens. “You had to have known I’d been crying, but you didn’t even blink. You just said ‘I know’ when I told you your shirt was cool, asked what class I had, walked me to it, and then said you’d see me at lunch. It was the first time I felt like someone had seen me when I wasn’t all together and didn’t run away.”
He puts a hand over his heart, eyes glistening, and I point at him menacingly, feeling mine flood in return before continuing.
“If there’s one thing Adam won’t do, it’s run away from real emotions. It’s all he knows how to feel, at their most keyed-up intensity.” The crowd titters and Adam leans back in his seat, waving me off. Grace leans into him, laughing. “If he’s mad, he’ll say he’s mad. If he’s happy, he’ll say that. If he’s drowning in the anxiety of a cursed wedding, he’ll say that, too. It’s how I knew Grace was the one. He texted me and Eli at one a.m. our senior
year of college, probably minutes after their first date ended, and all it said was ‘I’m in love.’ We knew that ending up here was inevitable.”
My gaze darts to Eli before I realize I’m doing it. I remember that night, not just because of Adam’s declaration, but because after we got the text, Eli and I speculated about which one of us would get married first. We’d been curled up in his bed, studying, cocooned in a quiet that soothed me.
Eli doesn’t let me look away. I can see the same memory playing in his mind. I can see him thinking what he said that night, now in past tense: it was going to be us.
I turn back to Adam and Grace, heart beating fast. “Anyway, I know this wedding has been…”
“A shit show,” Adam announces.
“A shit show,” I confirm with a laugh. “But all it tells me is that you two will take anything on—the highs and the lows and the messes—and love each other through it all. You’re not afraid of anything, because you know you’ve got one another. It’s such an honor to witness.” A knot forms in my throat; it’s happiness for them, grief for me. “I love you both. Cheers to this beautiful new era.”
I lift the glass Julia hands me as everyone yells out their cheers.
Grace gets to me first, pulling me into a breath-stealing hug. “Georgia,” she whispers with a sniffle. “Please. You can’t do that to a pregnant person on her wedding day.”
“I’m sorry,” I laugh.
She pulls back, her dark eyes wet. “Thank you. We love you.” I squeeze her hand. “I love you, too.”
Adam wipes at his eyes with the heels of his hands before he steps around his wife, pulling me into his arms. “Okay, you asshole.”
I smile into his shoulder. “You’re welcome.”
He squeezes me until my ribs groan. “I don’t know what your original speech was, but it couldn’t have been better than that.”
I don’t remember it either. Whatever pieces of it that had been running through my mind are gone now. I said exactly what I needed to.
“I guess one of the many disasters this day has brought worked out okay.”
Adam studies me, then turns us so that we’re looking out at the scene before us. The dance floor is streaked with mud, the cake an abomination. Everyone looks waterlogged. The tent has seen better days.
But the din of noise is giddy, laughter swelling constantly. Laurie and David are dancing to the beat of it, gazing at each other with such proud smiles. Jamie’s got her arms looped around Grace’s waist a few feet away, cheek resting on her shoulder, as Blake talks with enthusiastically waving hands. Eli’s listening carefully to Julia, head dipped and nodding, as she hands him the mic; his speech is next. Every table I look at is a snapshot of happiness.
Beyond the tent, the clouds are starting to clear, the black sky now littered with stars and a content, low-hanging moon. The air is heavy with humidity and the smell of the soil that’s sustained Blue Yonder for over fifty years.
If you asked me to describe what love looked and felt like, I’d say this. My throat crowds with tears. Adam tightens his hold on me.
“It’s weird. I had this image of how today was going to go for months. And completely objectively, the reality is worse. I wanted it to be perfect, you know?”
“I know,” I choke out. I did, too.
“But god, Georgia,” he says, his voice growing thick. “I’m so fucking happy. We could’ve been doing this at Meadowcrest with perfect weather and, like, electricity.” His wet laughter joins mine. “But this is my home, you know? Everything’s a mess, but it is perfect in its weird way.”
I nod, unable to get any words out.
“I don’t know,” he says, shaking his head. “I think it had to happen like this, where everything went wrong the first time so it could go right this time.”
“I wouldn’t say it’s going right,” I say dubiously. “It’s not going perfectly. Doesn’t mean it’s not right.”
Something flickers in my chest. “Are we not hating the curse now?”
“Maybe not. It knew what I needed.” Adam grins. “Still got married to the love of my life. Cole bought a Slip ’N Slide. It’s going to be an epic night.”
“I don’t want it to end,” I admit. I could spend ten more days here. One hundred, a lifetime tucked into that cottage down the path, suspended in a bubble that keeps my happiness so concentrated my heart feels heavy with it.
“Me neither,” he says, then gives me a reassuring squeeze. “But we’ve got more nights like this on tap, George.”
“Yeah,” I say faintly, my gaze wandering to Eli.
But I know it won’t ever be like this again, and that makes the goodbye even harder.
