“Hey, you, I just wanted to say good morning and tell you how much I’m looking forward to seeing you tonight. Enjoy the rest of the day with the girls, and I’ll see you at the ceremony.”
His voice still gave me goose bumps.
I saved the message and jumped in the shower.
At five o’clock, McKenna and I were standing outside the main ballroom of the St. Francis Yacht Club, classical music from the string quartet drifting out into the hall. We were peeking through the curtains to check out all the guests filling the huge room. The scent of hundreds of white roses sweetened the air.
“I can’t believe this day is really here. And I can’t believe how many people are sitting in those pretty white chairs,” I said, staring at everyone’s backs.
“What did you expect with a guest list like that?” McKenna said. “Hey, can you come here for a second and check me out? Am I busting out of this thing too much? Is it too X-rated for a wedding?” She adjusted the top of her strapless black dress and put her hands on her waist.
“You look gorgeous, but I gotta say that your rack is humongous,” I said.
She laughed. “The one perk of breast-feeding.”
Just then Andie walked up behind us. “You ready ladies? It’s time to go.” She smoothed out her black strapless bridesmaid dress.
“Yep, I’m ready,” McKenna said.
I nodded. “Me too.”
McKenna gently touched my cheek. “Waverly, you look beautiful. I think I’m going to cry.”
“Thanks,” I said softly, afraid that I was going to lose it, too.
Andie clapped her hands. “Okay people, let’s get cooking. There’s an open bar waiting at the reception.”
The noise of the crowd inside quieted down, and my dad walked up and put his arms around us. “Ready to go, ladies?” he said. The three of us squeezed hands and nodded.
The quartet briefly stopped playing, and the doors opened. Then the music started again, and one by one my bridesmaids walked down the aisle.
Then it was my turn.
I took a deep breath and looked up at my father next to me.
“Don’t trip,” he said.
“Dad!”
He laughed. “Andie told me to say that.”
I smiled. “I love you, Dad.”
“I love you, too, kiddo.”
I took another deep breath and intertwined my arm in his. I felt slightly dizzy, as if everything were in slow motion. The guests stood up, and I was vaguely aware of three hundred pairs of eyes smiling at me. Andie and McKenna, Davey and Lindsay, Kent and his wife, Beth, Hunter and new baby Justin, Kristina and groomsman Shane, Cynthia and Dale, Scotty and Tad, even Brad Cantor and Mandy Edwards (I know, I’m a sap, but they do make a cute couple).
It was really happening, and all my loved ones were there to enjoy it with me.
I took my first step down the aisle and looked straight ahead. All those eyes were focused on me, but the only ones I saw were the bright blue ones belonging to Jake, who was waiting for me at the other end of the aisle.
The End …?
KIDDING. Hello?? Like after all that yapping about being fine on my own and not worrying about what everyone else was doing, I was going to go sprinting down the aisle that fast? Honey, I don’t think so. Give me some credit!
Here’s what really happened after our walk that day:
At five o’clock, McKenna and I were standing together before the ceremony, but she was the one in the wedding dress. I did wear my hair up in a high curly bun though. We were at the Tiburon Golf Club in Marin looking out the window at the lush green hills and waterfalls surrounding the links. There were about two hundred guests seated in sparkling white chairs, all of them waiting to watch McKenna and Hunter tie the knot. The balmy weather was a perfect seventy-two degrees.
The outdoor ceremony was simple and touching. McKenna and Hunter had written their own vows over pancakes at IHOP one Sunday morning, and they managed to combine romance with humor in a way that had all the guests laughing yet tearing up at the same time. I was way weepy.
Jake was my date. We’d been seeing each other for just a couple weeks, and a few days after the wedding I was still going on my very first vacation by myself, but we were getting along just great. Time would tell what would happen in the future, but it had been amazing so far, and I was certainly enjoying every minute. That’s what it’s all about, right?
Shane and Kristina came to the wedding. We’d all gone dancing after my singles auction date, and to make McKenna’s bachelorette party complete, we’d even gone to a male strip club. We’d begged Shane to get up on stage to join the dancers, but he was too afraid his photo would end up all over the Internet. You know you’re really famous when you can’t get drunk and act like an idiot in front of total strangers anymore.
I think Hunter was more nervous about meeting Shane than about committing himself for the rest of his life to another person. And when word got out at the hospital that Shane was attending the wedding, Hunter’s friends were tempted to scalp their invitations to pay off their med school loans. Men!
When it was time for dinner, I took my seat next to McKenna at the bridal party table. The white-rose centerpiece was purposely just a few inches high, so our views weren’t impaired.
She took a sip of champagne and leaned over to me. “Can you believe I’m married?” she whispered.
I put my hand on her shoulder. “Congratulations, HONEY, you did it!”
“Honey, help me.” She laughed and shook her head.
Just then, Hunter came up behind us and put his hands on McKenna’s bare shoulders.
“What are you two ladies whispering about?”
“Just how lucky I am, sweetie.” She took his hands and pulled his arms around her.
“Liar.” He laughed and sat down next to her.
Dinner, as they say, was served. The salmon was delicious, and those who opted for the prime rib were equally impressed. The wine McKenna and I had chosen to accompany dinner was apparently a hit, but then again, who’s going to turn down free wine?
The only real glitch in the evening was the cake. Or, more specifically, the cake cutting, because I was in the ladies’ room at the time. Oops. But at least I didn’t get locked in the stall. And then came the dancing. For the cocktail hour and dinner we’d hired a string quartet, but for dancing we’d picked a DJ who specialized in, of course, ’80s tunes. A few songs into his first set, he put on “Bizarre Love Triangle” by New Order.
“Oh my God, this is the best dance song EVER!” I jumped up from our table and looked at Jake. “Ready to bust a move?”
He laughed. “Did you just say Bust a move?”
I nodded. “Oh, yes, I did.”
He stood up and put his arm around me. “I’m not sure I want to see this.”
McKenna and Hunter were already on the dance floor, boogying down with Andie. They spotted me and waved at me to come join them. I trotted over and zigzagged my way through the crowd. But I stepped on something slippery just before I reached them, and I suddenly felt the all-too-familiar feeling of losing my balance.
“Oh cra—,” I started to yell, falling backward, bracing myself.
But the crash never came.
“Don’t worry, I’ve got you.” Jake scooped me up in his arms and gently set me back down on my feet.
I put my arms around him and looked up at his eyes.
Those beautiful blue eyes.
I smiled. “Yes, you do, Jake McIntyre. Yes, you do.”
After the song was over, we starting walking back toward our table so I could have some more cake. But then the DJ began to play “Who’s Crying Now?” by Journey.
I looked at Jake.
Jake looked at me.
“Well?” he said.
“Well what?” I titled my head to one side and smiled.
“If I ask you to dance to this song again, are you going to run away?”
I shook my head. “Nope.”
/> “You promise?”
I nodded slowly and kept smiling at him. “I promise.”
We turned back to the dance floor, and he put his hand on the small of my back. Once again, his touch nearly burned a hole right through me. He led me through the crowd and gently put his arms around me.
He looked down at me as we swayed to the music. “Thanks for asking me to be your date tonight, Waverly Bryson.”
I smiled up at him. “Thank you for accepting, Jake McIntyre.”
He smiled back and squeezed me tight.
“Hey, Jake?”
“Yeah?”
“Is melty a word?”
“What?”
“I was just wondering, you know, because I’ve noticed that—”
“Waverly?” he said.
“What?”
“Shut up and just dance with me, okay?”
I grinned. “Okay.”
He squeezed me tighter, and I closed my eyes.
And this time the only dizziness I felt was the sensation of leaving the past behind and falling head over heels into the future.
The Real End
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
THANK YOU so much to those who provided help in all shapes and sizes for this book, which began as a dreamy idea on countless morning walks with my dear friend Alison Marquiss and finally came to life with the help of my impossibly wonderful father (and highly unpaid administrative assistant), Mike Murnane. Along the way I received invaluable feedback and support from the following amazing people: Flo Murnane, Mark Murnane, Icha Murnane, Monica Morey, Luke Morey, Michele Sharkey, Brett Sharkey, Terri Sharkey, Lindsay Barnett, Lucinda Bowman, Caitlin “Kiwi” Flanagan, Mary Huck, Kat Woody, Mary Scouffas, Bridget Serchak, Tami McMillan, Christine Paul, Sean Sullivan, Jen Jasper, Doug Massa, Sarita Bhargava, Doretta Bonner, Bobby Davidorf, Sunita Rao, Billy Burkoth and Jennifer Livingstone (collectively known as “BLi”), Debbie Bolzan, Andreá Maxwell, Annie Flaig, Michele Breen, Somill Hwang, Mary Karlton, Anh Vazquez, Danny Stoian, Jenn van der Kleut, Meg Russell, Leslie Harris, Nelle Sacknoff, Max Chang, Patti O’Connell, Alex Carr, and Lori “Bosenwasser” Rosenwasser.
In your own way each of you helped turn my imagination into a life-changing reality, and for that I will always be grateful.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
MARIA MURNANE had a successful career in public relations for nearly a decade before admitting to herself that she wasn’t happy. Knowing she would be miserable if she stayed on the path she was on, she quit and went to Argentina for what was supposed to be a two-week solo trip before facing real life again. Instead, she ended up living in Buenos Aires for a year, playing semi-professional soccer for one of the most famous clubs in the world and doing what she had always dreamed about, which was to write a humorous novel based on her experiences as a single professional woman in San Francisco.
Maria was a Regents’ and Chancellor’s Scholar at UC Berkeley, where she graduated with high honors in English and Spanish. She also received a master’s degree in integrated marketing communications from Northwestern University. She currently lives in New York and does professional business writing in addition to promoting her book.
More information is available at www.mariamurnane.com.
WWW.HONEYNOTE.COM
If you have an idea for a Honey Note, please let Maria (and Waverly) know.
They’d love to hear from you! Dating disaster stories are also welcome.
Perfect on Paper: The (Mis)Adventures of Waverly Bryson Page 31