For a split second, I was on my toes and ready to dash for the phone to dial 911 until she said, “Shit. I’ve got to pee again.”
I felt an instantaneous rush of relief, and then I pumped a fist in the air and did a little dance in my kitten heels, long, creamy train swishing on the hardwood. I even tried a little tap dance, but when I teetered and nearly fell on my ass, I gave it up.
“Why are you doing a victory dance?” Annree asked warily.
“Chach and I made a bet.” I smirked. “She said you’d pee five times before the ceremony even started. I said seven.”
“You’re counting my trips to the bathroom?”
“Six, baby!” I leaned over and planted a sloppy kiss on her bulging midsection. “Go drain the girl child.”
Cha-cha
“I can’t do this.”
As soon as I said it, I whipped around and fell into a crouch, wrapping my arms around my knees. It was a position I’d used a lot during an awkward childhood when the other kids made fun of me for, well, being me. Something about the fetal position, balanced on my heels, offered a warmth and protection that maybe mimicked being held by the mom I’d never known.
“Yes, you can.” Christian’s brogue got thicker when he reprimanded. He leaned forward in his velvet chair and rested his elbows on his knees, catching my gaze. “You’re meant to do this.”
“Am I?” I asked, aware of the hysterical lilt to my voice. I waved my hands in the air and lost my balance, catching myself by the tips of my fingers. “I’m committing myself to one woman for the rest of my life!”
As I stood up, he laughed and flashed me his simple silver wedding band. It was the only piece of jewelry I’d ever seen the man wear. “What’s so wrong with that?”
I paused, brushing both hands down the back of my black slacks. “Um.”
“Yeah, you don’t know because there is no downside.”
“You only say that because you’re having a baby.” I stuck my tongue out at him.
Christian rolled his eyes, and in that movement I saw a lot of his wife in him. I guess five years being married to a person can do that. “Cha-cha, you’ve been betrothed longer than we’ve been married.”
I liked when Christian used words like “betrothed.” It was so…proper. So Irish. If I were into guys, I guess I’d think he was attractive. His dark hair was shiny and curly and his blue eyes were vivid above his freckled cheeks. With his black-Irish good looks and Annree’s fair skin and red hair, they were gonna have a hot little kid. I was already spit-shining the shotgun. I may have been born in Hong Kong, but I could fake Southern Redneck with the best of ‘em.
“We weren’t ready.” I turned away from him and stared at myself in the mirror, trying to figure out what the hell my girlfriend saw in me.
Becca was beautiful. Five-star hotel with all the luxuries, beautiful. Her honey-colored hair always smelled like citrus and her smooth, tanned skin was soft. She had the curves of an NFL cheerleader, and trust me, she could use them to her full advantage. I was putty in her hands.
My reflection stared back at me. Almond-shaped eyes, black as midnight—a testament to my heritage—and a rail-thin body several inches shorter than Becca. My ebony dreadlocks were shorter than usual. I didn’t like them that way, but I’d had a nervous breakdown the week before and got them lopped off. Only if you were looking for it specifically could you tell the remnants of a black eye were still fading from my skin.
“You’re worried,” Christian acknowledged.
“Worried is an understatement.”
“You look great. The suit was a nice touch.”
“It does look great on my ass,” I joked.
“In all seriousness, Cha-cha,” Christian said, standing in a fluid, graceful motion and crossing the room to stand beside me, “you’ll get over the cold feet.”
“It’s going to be hard,” I murmured after a brief hesitation. “Becca and I…”
Christian inclined his head in acknowledgment, but didn’t say a word. He just put a comforting hand to my shoulder and squeezed.
Becca
The storm had started despite my internal protestations and threats.
I stared out the window as the rain streaked the glass, distorting the gardens until they were nothing but a wash of blurry colors. Why had I wanted an outdoor wedding, again?
“So, they said no biggie, they can move everything inside.” My mother clomped into the room in her scuffed-up cowboy boots. She looked like a sexy milk-maid, only aged like a fine wine. Her blue jean dress was about as redneck as it could get, but that’s just my mom. Virginia born and raised.
“I really wanted to get married in the garden,” I sank into an armchair, defeated. “With the roses and the hedges cut into funny little geometric shapes.”
“Now, Rebecca,” Mom chastised as she crouched before me and took my hands in hers. “It’s just a silly ole ceremony. The day isn’t about how you do it, baby girl. It’s about you and Cha-cha.”
Hot tears prickled in my eyes. I turned away before she could see them. “Maybe it’s a sign. Maybe I shouldn’t marry Chach.”
“Rebecca Ann, that’s the most ridiculous thing you’ve ever said. You love Cha-cha. You’ve been talking about this wedding for years.”
“That’s just it, Momma.” I spread my hands wide, mortified as a sob escaped me. “It took us five years just to get here. Maybe we were putting it off for a reason.”
“Hush, child.” Mom put a finger to my lips. “You’re gonna march your pretty little behind up that aisle and say your vows with the person you love. Got it?” She chucked my chin. “And your daddy’s gonna give you away just like he’s always wanted, and I’m gonna cry like a baby.”
I giggled, reduced to a little girl with my mom by my side. “Yeah.”
“Now, I’ve gotta go run interference.” Mom stood up with a groan, pressing her hand to her back dramatically. Her long, honey hair hung to her ass, and I saw silver at her temples. “Good, sweet baby Jesus, I’m old.”
“Interference?” I asked.
Her eyes twinkled. “Annree’s momma’s here.”
“Oh, dear God.” I pressed a hand to my forehead. “Why did we invite her?”
“Because she loves you, pussy cat. Probably close to as much as I do.”
“At least tell me she brought her husband instead of her side project.”
My mother just grinned. “I expect you in that lobby in ten minutes.” She dropped a kiss to my forehead, and was gone.
Cha-Cha
I wasn’t any less insane, but I’d talked myself into it. Finally.
It would be just a short ceremony. Twenty minutes, and Becca would be my wife. Simple, sweet, and Happily Ever After. I conjured her face in my mind—my one-track mind focused on her sensual, pouty lips. I closed my eyes, desire pooling low inside me.
“You okay?” Christian’s brogue interrupted my thoughts.
My eyes shot open, and I looked at him. “Mm-hm.”
“Come here. Tie’s crooked.”
He reached for my short black tie and I swatted him away. “Quit mothering me.”
“Somebody has to,” he retorted, shoving my hand away and grabbing the length of material at my neck. “That vile creature that poses as your stepmother certainly isn’t going to do it.”
“Let’s not talk about her,” I laughed. “She didn’t even get an invite.”
Christian chuckled. “Why’s she here?”
“Because my dad’s a moron.” I sighed. “I wish my mom was here.”
Christian’s eyes caught mine and he tugged playfully at a dreadlock. “I know what you mean. But, she’s here. Just not how you’d prefer, yeah?”
We were interrupted by short nails clicking against the heavy wooden door, and Becca’s mom stuck her head through the crack of the doorway. “Cha-cha, honey. It’s time. Are you ready?”
I stepped away from Christian’s comforting warmth and held my arms open for my future mother-i
n-law.
She clomped across the floor in the same boots she’d been wearing since the day I first met her, when I told her that one day, I would marry her daughter. I wrapped my arms around her tightly.
“Yeah, Momma. I’m ready.”
The ceremony had been moved inside, which was fine with me, though I’m sure Bec was a-titter. She was my creature of habit: Eggs sunny-side up, sleeps on the left side of the bed no matter what, and heaven help us if I moved her car keys. I put a rack on the wall beside our back door—it says “princess” and that’s where she hangs her keys. Anything for her.
The place was packed. All the folding white chairs, draped in shimmery pink lace, were full of friends and family. Our photographer—Geraldine—was propped against the wall, finger tapping away at the shutter of her fancy contraption. I don’t know where Becca found the woman, but she was costing me a fortune.
I smiled and nodded at our attendees as I headed up the aisle. I didn’t make it halfway before Annree intercepted me, baby Glory nearly knocking me off my feet.
“Hey, you’re like a loose wrecking ball,” I told her with a laugh.
Annree took hold of my arm and pulled me behind the tapestry hanging against the wall. “Cha-cha…Becca’s gone.”
“What do you mean she’s gone?” I screeched.
Annree clapped a hand over my mouth before she said soothingly, “I’m sure she’s just getting some air or something. We’ll find her.”
Becca
So, I was a coward. Or something.
“My wedding was supposed to start an hour ago,” I told the squirrel sitting on the wall in front of me.
He flicked his bushy tail and eyed me seriously.
“But…I’m not there.”
His little head seemed to nod, but that could definitely have been the several swigs missing from the bottle of Jim Beam occupying the space to my right.
The rain still fell. I sat in a gazebo somewhere in the garden, my umbrella propped against the bench as leftover rain traced a river from the shiny purple material all the way to the wet steps. My feet were bare and wet; I was reminded of being a kid, wandering the farm barefoot in a rain storm.
How’d I get to this place? Small-town girl turned restaurant proprietor with 50k in the bank and a house in the ‘burbs of DC. Homecoming queen with a 4.0 and “Most Likely to Succeed” turned…lesbian. If only my high school sweetheart could see me now. I let my face fall into my hands.
“Life has a way of sneaking up on us.” Her voice was song, a melody wrapped in the patter of rain on the roof.
I turned to my fiancée with guilty eyes. “It does.”
Chach looked beautiful. Her black pants suit fit her like a glove; it hugged her lithe body at every curve, the jacket nipped in at her tiny waist. There was turquoise wrapped around several of her dreadlocks and pink gloss on her lips. She’d never been more beautiful.
She didn’t say anything as she crossed the warped, weathered boards of the gazebo, her loafers silent, and took a seat beside me. She tucked her hands beneath her thighs and stared out across the misty grounds.
“You missed our appointment,” she finally said.
“I did.”
“Verbose today.”
I cackled, nerves frayed, and the maniacal laughter turned to sobs as my girlfriend wrapped strong arms around me and pulled me into her warmth.
When the silent tears stopped, Cha-cha’s voice murmured through me. “I’m scared, too.”
“The guy on the metro,” I whispered.
I felt her nod, and she pressed a tender kiss to my hair. “The guy on the metro.”
We’d been holding hands. It’s such a sweet, simple expression of love. No tongues, no lips, no grinding of the bodies in front of the general public. Holding hands can convey so many things; not necessarily romantic love. We could have been sisters, or best friends, or cousins…but, we weren’t. We were lovers, and anyone could tell by the way our eyes met beneath the fluorescent lights, or by the way our bodies leaned towards one another as if sharing a gravitation pull.
He was gross. Hairy. Fat. His blue jeans kept falling off his hips as he stood in the aisle just in front of us, his dark, beady eyes staring. I tried to ignore him, but his sheer size made it impossible.
“Is he staring at us?” Cha-cha had murmured.
“He is.”
“Perv.” Cha-cha squeezed my hand and shot me a knowing smile. “He’s just jealous he doesn’t have what I have.”
We were two stops from Cleveland Park, our station. The garbled intercom announced Dupont Circle, and the fat man adjusted his pants and headed past us.
Cha-cha didn’t hear him, but I did. “Fucking dykes.”
He didn’t spit on me, but he spit on the woman I love.
Cha-cha came out of her seat so fast she was a thin, dark blur. The impact sent them both sprawling out of the opening train doors, and they tumbled ass over heels across the platform. Other passengers rushed forward amidst gasps, and I sat in my seat, wide-eyed, with terror rushing through me—so shocked that I couldn’t move.
I got off at the Zoo and grabbed the next line back to Dupont. By the time I got there, Cha-cha was in handcuffs, bleeding from a superficial head wound and with one eye swollen shut.
The man she attacked was out cold. My baby sure can scrap with the big dogs.
“It’s not always going to be like that,” Cha-cha said softly, her voice bringing me back to the rain and the scent of gardenias.
“Isn’t it?” I pulled away and touched the faded purple bruise just above her broad cheekbone.
“No.”
Her kiss spoke to my soul. Soft, wet. I slid a hand up the fabric of her jacket, then curved my fingers against the skin of her neck, pressing my breasts to hers as the kiss deepened. I wanted to rip the monkey suit from her back—my woman belongs in mini-skirts and belly shirts with combat boots up to her thighs. I love her bad girl style, I love the way she tastes on my lips, and I love the way her eyes squint when she first wakes up in the morning.
I was meant to be with Cha-cha.
Cha-cha
Like blush wine, the sweet kind, with bubbles. Lots of bubbles. I could drink Becca all night and happily live drunk on her.
I broke the kiss. “Bec, it was one man.”
“One man that hurt you.” Her heart-shaped face pouted, and I had to chuck her nose. Couldn’t stop myself.
“Yeah, but did you see the other guy?” I joked, flexing an arm.
Becca rolled her eyes. One hand rested on my thigh, hot even through the thick material. Her fingers trailed higher, her eyes wicked, and I swatted her hand away, even as my body responded to her touch.
“These things are going to happen,” I told her, serious now. “There are always going to be narrow-minded people in the world. We’re going to face prejudice. Probably a lot of it. But, look where we are.” I gestured around us.
The confusion in her eyes was sweet. “What do you mean?”
“Getting married. In DC. We live in a place that has accepted our dream to be together.” I took her hands between mine and pressed a kiss to her fingers. “So, let’s go do what the government has deemed worthy of us. Let’s let the rest lie, for now. And we’ll cross those bridges—and burn them—when it comes.”
Her sapphire eyes shone. The rain had stopped, the sun was peeking around the edges of the gazebo. I kissed my bride one more time, and we walked—hand in hand—back to the house.
Annree
Not every girl that gets to stand beside two of her best friends as they marry each other.
Becca was radiant. The hem of her dress was a little wet, and she was definitely sans shoes, but she was happy. Cha-cha faced her, her own shoes covered in grass clippings, slowly drying in the air conditioning. They held hands, white dress and black suit, two personalities, two women more in love than the majority of couples I knew.
My other best friend, Erin, nudged me with an elbow and grinned—I kne
w she was seeing the same kind of beauty I was. A love that would last a lifetime, that would stand trials of a world against it.
I thought of how freaked Becca had been earlier as I watched her pace the bedroom, and I couldn’t believe it was the same woman in front of me. Now, she grinned at her wife, her blue eyes crinkling.
“You may now kiss the bride,” the officiate declared.
Becca and Cha-cha threw themselves at each other like school kids. The huge gathering of friends and family tittered good-naturedly. Standing behind Cha-cha, my husband, Christian, winked at me.
I giggled, and inside me, Glory kicked. I couldn’t wait for her to meet her two aunts. I could only hope my daughter turned out even half as wonderful as them.
#
Heather Marie Adkins is getting married four months from the date of this publication. She’s freaking the hell out like her characters.
Find more information on Heather and her books at www.heathermarieadkins.com, or follow her on Facebook and Twitter
Books by Heather:
The Temple
Abigail
Constant State of Disaster
Cause & Effect
Writing as Nolia McCarty:
Heaven Below
Eternal Youth (co-written with Julia Crane)
The Eclective
The Eclective is:
Heather Marie Adkins
Rex Jameson
P.J. Jones
Shéa MacLeod
M. Edward McNally
Alan Nayes
R.G. Porter
Jack Wallen
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