Thirty-Three Going On Girlfriend (The Spinster Series Book 2)

by Becky Monson

  “But you’ll smell like cigarette smoke,” I say, pointing to her most-likely expensive gown.

  “That’s why you will ward off anyone from finding me until I can air out.” She points the burning cigarette at me.

  “Well, how long will that take?” I ask, unconvinced that’s even a possibility. Smoke, especially from a cigarette, does not go away easily.

  “Long enough for me to get it together so I can walk down the aisle.” Her shoulders slump.

  “Oh, Brown, you aren’t freaking out again, are you?” I take a step closer to her and put my hand on her lace-covered arm.

  “No,” she says unconvincingly. “Maybe.”

  “What are you freaking out about now?”

  “Oh, you know, just marriage and being stuck with someone for the rest of my life. No big deal.”

  “Brown.”

  “Yes?”

  “Do you love Matt?”

  “Yes.” She stares down at the ground.

  “Do you think there is someone else out there that you might be missing out on?”

  “No. There’s no one better.” She looks at me and gives me a small, thin smile.

  “Then what is the problem?” I raise my eyebrows at her. If I wore glasses, I’d peer down at her through them.

  She takes a drag from her cigarette and blows it out, slowly. “I guess there isn’t a problem. I think I’m just nervous.”

  “Betsy Brown? Nervous?” I feign shock with the back of my hand against my forehead. “I never thought I’d see the day.”

  “Shut up.” She punches me lightly on the arm.

  “Come on,” I hold out my hand, “give it to me.”

  She reluctantly hands over the cigarette and I hold it pinched between my thumb and pointer finger, as far away from my body as possible. Smoking is seriously so gross.

  “Okay, I’m going to take this and throw it away. You work on airing yourself out.” She nods her head, indicating that she will. “You have five minutes to get your butt inside and get ready to walk down that aisle and marry the only man that will put up with your crap.”

  She rolls her eyes at me, but a small smile appears on her lips.

  “I will come out here and drag you inside if I have to.” I point the burning cigarette at her.

  “Okay, okay! Now leave me alone for my last few minutes of being single.” She gives me an I’m-only-half-kidding smile. I start to walk away. “Oh, and Julia?”

  “Yeah?” I turn back to her.

  “Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome.” I say and then turn around and walk back into the building, tossing the cigarette into the trashcan as I go.

  CHAPTER 14

  I will not trip and fall as I’m walking down the aisle.

  I repeat this to myself as I walk down what seems like a ridiculously long aisle to the front of the large ballroom where Brown is about to get married. Matt is standing there, next to the officiant, looking handsome with his dark hair and light, olive complexion. He’s like something out of a magazine, wearing a more traditional tuxedo. I’d have thought that Brown, with her fashion-forward thinking, would have had him in something more modern. Or maybe traditional is modern now. Clearly, I don’t know much on the subject.

  The string quartet is playing classical music. It’s more fast-paced than the CD we used to practice with at the rehearsal last night, but I somehow find my groove as Matt’s brother, Paul, escorts me down the aisle. Paul’s got nothing on Jared, but he’s a good-looking guy. Once upon a time, Brown wanted to set me up with him. But that was back when I was frump-girl. I’ve since “blossomed,” or so I heard my mother say not too long ago. It made me feel like an adolescent tween that just grew boobs.

  Making it to the front without any embarrassing tripping or falling, I breathe a sigh of relief as I take my place next to Brown’s sister, Amy. Like Brown, Amy is beautiful. Actually, everyone in Brown’s family is gorgeous. It seems a little unfair that so many pretty genes were given to one family.

  Behind Brown’s family is a group of people from Spectraltech, my former employer. This is the first time I’ve seen some of them since the layoffs last year. Some of them come visit me at the bakery, namely, Mr. Calhoun and Martha. Turns out Brown’s and my hunch that they were having an affair was right on. They are together now, which really is . . . gross.

  I wonder how they all feel about the fact that I’m now dating “the enemy,” although Jared isn’t the enemy to the people who are here at Brown’s wedding. They still have their jobs. Most of them don’t even know Jared was the one behind the layoffs, since that’s how he does his consulting, mostly under-cover. As far as they know, he was one of the employees that was laid off.

  I angle my head just slightly to the right and spy Jared sitting about three rows back across the way from the Spectraltech folk, probably not by mistake. He’s next to Anna and Jonathon. Jonathon looks as pompous as ever. Jared flashes me a wide smile that sends butterflies floating around in my stomach. Since we said the love word, his glances at me are different. They have new meaning behind them: love.

  That was ridiculously cheesy, and I don’t care.

  The quartet starts playing the bridal march, and the officiant asks everyone to stand. This is it. All eyes are now on the back of the room.

  Now, I’ve been to a few weddings in my day, and when the bridal march starts, that’s when the bride is supposed to walk down the aisle, right? Because we are halfway through the song and no Brown. Whispers start rustling through the crowd and eyes start shifting toward Matt. He doesn’t seem fazed at all. In fact, he just keeps his gaze on the entrance. Maybe he’s willing her to come through the door. I know I am.

  We make it through the entire march with no Brown. I glance at the officiant just as he signals for the quartet to start the song over. Everyone turns to stare at the back door once again. I glance quickly at Jared, who gives me a look of concern. I give him a little shrug. Then Anna does the same thing as Jared and I give her a shrug as well.

  Oh, come on, Brown. Don’t do this. I internally roll my eyes. This is just so cliché, isn’t it? Waiting until the time that you’re supposed to walk down the aisle to stop the wedding. I mean, honestly, there are so many other ways to stop your own wedding. Why wait until this last part? This seems like something Anna would do, not Brown.

  I look over at Matt again and he still doesn’t appear even remotely worried. In fact, he leans over to his best man, and from the chuckle that he gives, it would seem as if he just made a joke. Well, I suppose some people use humor to get through hard times. That’s usually my go-to move, usually at a very inappropriate time, as well.

  Just as I’m about to go out and find her, and the quartet begins to play the bridal march yet again, I see a flash of something white at the back of the door.

  Brown’s there with her dad, and they are walking. They are walking down the aisle. Good job, Brown! I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. I’m pretty sure everyone in the crowd did, as well. Not Matt, though. I peer over at him, and he’s beaming at her as she walks down the aisle, and Brown is beaming back. Not a normal look for Brown, but I like it on her. She’s radiant.

  “Please be seated,” the officiant says, and everyone does as directed. Well, everyone except the bridal party. We have to stand the entire time. I think at my wedding I will have chairs for the bridal party to sit in, since I plan on writing my own ridiculously long vows. Of course, I won’t force the bridesmaids into horribly tall and somewhat frightening shoes, either.

  I mean, if I ever get married.

  As if Jared has read my mind, he smiles and winks at me. I blush, even though I know he’s not a mind reader. Good thing Lia’s not here to announce to the crowd that my aura is the color of la-la-land, whatever color that is.

  The ceremony goes off without a hitch. Well, accept for the hitch of the bride not walking down the aisle right away. I’ll have to pull Brown aside and ask her what the heck happened.
>
  The officiant announces, “You may now kiss the bride,” and Matt lays one on Brown that would have been a little over the top had we been in a church. Everyone claps and cheers. The bride and groom turn, the officiant introduces them as “Mr. & Mrs. Whitehead” (Brown only slightly cringes), everyone claps again, and then those Whiteheads (this new name for Brown is going to be so much fun) rush down the aisle with the rest of us following along. Thank goodness the recessional is so much faster than the processional.

  There is no time to sit after the wedding. Much to my chagrin, we are immediately rushed off to take pictures around the grounds. I make a note to myself that if I ever get married (key word: if) I’ll let everyone take a breather after the ceremony. And by breather, I mean a nap. I could totally use one right now.

  The hotel is set on a beautiful golf course, and this incredible May day will make for some stunning pictures, I’m sure. Although pretty much a guarantee, I try as hard as I can to not have any double chins or pirate eyes in the pictures. By trying, though, I may have introduced an entire new look to add to my non-photogenic ways: surprised constipation.

  “So how does it feel to be Mrs. Whitehead?” I say to Brown while Matt and his groomsmen are posing for pictures.

  She rolls her eyes. “You know what? It feels good.” She beams happily.

  “You had us all worried there for a second,” I say, questioning her with raised eyebrows.

  “Well, you know . . .” she trails off.

  “Oh, so you freaked out again?”

  “Only a little,” she makes the sign for little with her thumb and pointer fingers.

  “Oh, Brown, how far did you get?” I knew right away she tried to make a run for it. Just a little doesn’t usually mean little in Brown-speak.

  “The parking lot. But my dad found me and talked some sense into me.” She glances down at her bouquet with a hint of shame.

  “Really? What did he say?”

  “Just that he almost made the same mistake and was forever grateful that he didn’t.” She looks up, the shame now replaced by admiration.

  “Daddies are the best, aren’t they?” I say and wink at her. I can’t believe she will be gone for an entire month in Europe. An entire month! What will I do without her?

  Matt calls Brown over to join the groomsmen for more pictures. I join the other bridesmaids and wait for our turn. I hope it’s not much longer because I’m so ready to sit down.

  ~*~

  Apparently, bridesmaids don’t get to sit during weddings. I had no idea. My only other stint as a member of the bridal party was at Lennon and Jenny’s wedding. At least at that one, Jenny had us all wearing ballet flats. We did have to carry pale blue parasols though. That was very laughable on me. I don’t remember standing so much for theirs, but maybe I repressed it.

  About the time that I’m pretty sure I’m going to start crying over my sure-to-never-recover feet, it’s time to eat dinner, and we get to sit while we eat, which at this point is a bit surprising.

  I won’t get to sit next to Jared, which is a bummer. He’s at a table across the room with Anna and Jonathon. My plus one doesn’t even get to sit with me. Gosh, I love that: plus one. Brown was sure to seat him far from the Spectraltech bunch, although I doubt he would have cared if he sat next to them. For Jared, his time there was all business. That’s just how he works. Not me. I’d feel guilty just looking at them. Even if they didn’t know, I’d keep thinking somehow they did, and I’d end up all tongue-tied and would spill the beans myself. “Remember that time I was a consultant and laid off thirty percent of your company? Wasn’t that so fun?”

  “Julia, how are you?” Mr. Calhoun taps me on the shoulder, and I spin around to see him standing in front of me. I was just going to take my seat at the head table.

  “I’m doing great. How are you, Mr. Calhoun?” I smile genuinely. I’m glad that I still see him every so often. Mr. Calhoun was one of the few people that I actually liked from my days at Spectraltech.

  “Why all the proverbial formalities? You can call me by my first name, you know.” He winks at me and gives me a jovial grin. Ah yes, I see the misuse of the word “proverbial” is still in effect. I can’t believe I’m going to say this, but I’ve sort of missed it.

  “Yes, uh, sorry, Harold, it’s good to see you.” I’ve had a hard time with that. It just feels weird to call him by his first name after referring to him as Mr. Calhoun for ten years of my life.

  “How did that cupcake battling thing go?” he asks, his hands intertwining and resting on his large belly.

  “Well, I’m not contractually allowed to say. You’ll have to watch to find out,” I say happily.

  He smiles, eyes squinting as his cheeks squeeze against them. “So, did you make the cake?” He gestures over to the cake that is displayed near the head table. I haven’t even had a chance to see what Debbie and Patti did with it. From here, it looks fantastic. I won’t be checking it out anytime soon. It’s on the other side of the room from where I’ll be sitting, and I’m fairly confident I won’t make it there and back to the table in these shoes.

  “Yes, I did,” I say.

  “Well, then I look forward to eating it,” he says, the corners of his mouth turning up yet again.

  “I’m sure you do,” I say and then my eyelids shoot up. That just slipped right out. “I mean, er, yes. I hope it’s good,” I say, trying to recover, but instead just clumsily stumbling over my words.

  Mr. Calhoun chuckles and then pats me on the shoulder and walks away, shooting a “talk to you later” at me as he saunters/waddles off back to his table, where Martha has been eying us from across the room. Don’t worry, Martha, I’m not trying to steal your man.

  “Hey, beautiful,” I hear whispered in my ear from behind me, speaking of the main reason I’m not after Martha’s man.

  I spin around and wrap my arms around Jared. I’ve been so busy doing bridesmaid’s duties that this is the first time we’ve gotten to touch today. Only glances from across the room have been exchanged.

  “You look amazing,” he says as his hands rub up and down my waist. I pull back and stare down at my gown, and then, glancing back up at him, I grab one side of the dress with my hand and do a little curtsy.

  Yes, I curtsied. Good hell.

  “You don’t look so bad yourself,” I say, quickly letting go of my dress and wrapping my arms around him again. I reach up and kiss him lightly on the mouth. I’d love to attack him right here, but that’s probably bad wedding etiquette.

  Etiquette is so overrated.

  “Sucks that I don’t get to sit next to you for dinner,” he says, giving me a smoldering expression that makes my knees wobbly. Of course, my knees were fairly wobbly to begin with. If he keeps this up, he might have to carry me.

  “Oh, don’t act like you aren’t thrilled to converse with Jooonathon,” I croon.

  “Come on, he’s not that bad.” Jared gives me a little smirk.

  “Yes, well you haven’t spent enough time with him. Your opinion still needs to be decided.”

  “Okay, I promise to give him the chance to hate him.” He chuckles slightly.

  “That’s really all I’m asking. Anyway, I don’t hate him. I just don’t enjoy him.” I give Jared a tight squeeze with my arms, still wrapped tightly around his waist.

  Jared looks at the head table and then back at me. “You’re being beckoned.” He tips his head in Brown’s direction. I glance at her and she’s squinting at me, probably scolding me for my public display of affection. She hates that stuff. I mean, I do too, but we’ve already established my exception to the rule. As long as it’s me doing it, it’s okay.

  “Oh, fine,” I let out a loud exhale and let my shoulders slump in defeat. “I guess I’ll go sit in my designated seat before her highness blows a gasket. Go have fun with Anna and Jonathon.”

  Jared gives me a quick kiss and goes over to his assigned table while I go sit at my spot at the head table next to Paul.


  Dinner tastes amazing. I don’t know if I’ve eaten at all today. I was paying so much attention to my throbbing feet and tired legs, I guess I didn’t realize that my stomach was suffering as well.

  Although I’d rather be sitting with Jared, conversing with Paul isn’t so bad. Actually, it’s quite fun. He has kept me giggling while we people watch the wedding guests from our seats in the front.

  “I really don’t enjoy being in weddings,” Paul says after he finishes eating, leaning back in his chair and throwing his cloth napkin on his empty plate. His long legs cross at the ankle and he puts his large manly hands in his lap. If I’m being totally straight up here, Paul is pretty darn good-looking. Maybe bordering on hot. Not Jared hot, of course. His dark, almost black hair is disheveled in a very handsome way. He’s undone his tie and it dangles around his neck, his collar unbuttoned. So he might race right by the hot category, but I wouldn’t know. I’m in love with Jared, after all.

  “I’m not a fan of being in weddings, either. Especially with shoes that put your life at risk.” I hike up the side of my dress just slightly to show off the deathtraps still strapped to my feet.

  He whistles through his teeth. “Yes,” he agrees. “I can see danger in wearing those. They should come with a warning label.”

  “They really should,” I agree.

  “So who was that guy you were practically making out with earlier?” he asks, giving me a small smirk.

  “Oh.” The heat crawls up my face, and I’m thankful for the dim lighting so he can’t see my embarrassment. I now remember why I hate public displays of affection. People see you. “Um, he’s my boyfriend?” I have no idea why that came out in the form of a question.

  “Figured as much. I thought he might be a close relative or something.” He gives me a mocking smile.

  “Is that how you treat your relatives, then?” I say, my turn to smirk.

  “Oh, yes. Didn’t Brown tell you? We are very close in my family. Very close.” His eyebrows shoot up just once.

  “You’re gross,” I say, hitting him on the arm and giggling despite his grossness.