by Matayo, Amy
“Alright, mister, are you ready to leave?”
The sight of Jane fills me with peace like nothing else can. What was that about being a jinx? I’m the luckiest SOB in the country, so Twitter can suck it. When she gets close enough, I reach for her hand and give it a squeeze. Jane’s hand is my security blanket, and I’m a guy who grew up with an actual security blanket, so I speak with authority.
“Yes, I thought you’d never get back here.”
Jane looks around the room. “Where are the guys?”
“They went to get coffee, said you three were taking too long.” There’s movement over Jane’s shoulder. “Hey Riley, good to see you. How was the drive?”
When I wink at her, she glares at me. Riley’s fun to tease. “You’re hilarious, Teddy. Did you at least get that tarp put on the roof before you fell?”
This makes me laugh, which kinda hurts a spot on my side. A pulled muscle, the doctor said. It’s the worst of my injuries, so I guess I can’t complain. I can tease Riley, though. She’s as fiery as her newly red hair.
“Sure did, it’s secure and everything. Wish I could say the same thing for your cake.”
Try as she might, she can’t hold back a smile. It’s what I like about her most if you don’t count the way she gives me grief.
“I have no idea why so many people like you,” she says, turning to Jane. “What is it about him, Jane? Help me out here.”
Jane shrugs. “Trust me, I don’t know either.”
“Whatever,” I say to both of them. “It’s my charm and good looks, not to mention I can sing good.”
“Your grammar’s lacking, however,” Dillon says. “Alright, I’m going to search for a wheelchair so we can get out of here. You sure you feel okay?”
“I feel fine, and I don’t need a wheelchair. The only thing wounded is my pride, and maybe that boxwood on the side of the church. I’m not sure that thing will make it.”
“It’ll grow back. As for your pride, it’s as big as ever.” She winks, and everyone in the room laughs. I hate all of them, every single person. Except Jane. And maybe Chad. Okay, Liam and Riley and Dillon too, but come on. The moment of truth has arrived, ladies and gentlemen. Whatever Dillon’s had up her sleeve all these months is about the reveal itself, like it or not.
Whatever.
When your pride has already been knocked down, what’s one more hit?
Here comes the bride.
And her stupid, gullible bridesmaid.
Chapter Ten
(The Wedding Day)
Dillon
You know how, when you get to the end of a particularly grueling week and all you can think about is lying on the sofa with a glass of wine and streaming a show on Netflix? Maybe closing your eyes and getting a few minutes of rest, opening a carton of ice cream and eating straight out of the box, taking a long bath until the water runs cool. So many options, the number one being destressing and relaxation. Because the week has been so stressful.
I’ve lived the stress part of this scenario for nearly a year now, and all I can think about is making it to my honeymoon. And just so we’re clear, what I’m mostly thinking about is sleeping. Like, ninety-nine percent of the time. All I want to do on my honeymoon is take naps, get a massage, eat, and sleep more.
We’ll keep this between us. No need to tell Liam.
“Dillon, the make-up artist will be here at one o’clock, and you haven’t even taken a shower. Hurry up, go get in, and I’ll wait for you right here.” My mother sits down on the edge of my childhood bed.
“It’s only eleven, and I’m not taking a shower. I’m taking a bath. I’ll run the water now, but you’re not going to wait for me here.”
She checks the time on her Apple watch—my mother is apparently modern now—and narrows her eyes at me. “Why on earth not?”
“Because you’ll sigh every ten seconds, and I’ll be able to hear it from in there. I want to enjoy a bath, Mother. Not be on a time schedule.”
She stands up with an even louder sigh and smooths a wrinkle that has formed on the old comforter. My mother, ever the fixer of flaws.
“Fine, if you’re not in a hurry then I won’t be either.” It’s the sixth lie she’s told this morning, but I don’t acknowledge it. Her entire life is lived in a hurry. “No one is trying to put you on a time schedule, Dillon.” Again, she checks her watch. “You have thirty minutes. I’ll be back to check on you in twenty-five. Don’t forget to put on deodorant.”
I press my lips together as she walks out of the room, determined not to let anything ruin my wedding day. Anything new that is. After all, snow is still falling, the chapel is being held together by a few Band-Aids and a wish, many of the guests have already called to say they can’t make it, and my maid-of-honor nearly broke his back. It would be a weird turn of events if the thing that snapped my mind was my mother’s nonsensical comment about deodorant.
I grab my stick of Secret and disappear to the bathroom.
Sometimes I resent her always getting the last word.
* * *
Thirty-two minutes later, I exit the bathroom to see my mother, my aunt Margaret, my grandmother, Riley, Jane, and Sabrina sprawled on top of my bed. I didn’t expect everyone to be here so soon. The plan was to arrive at three o’clock to head over to the church together. They’re like lounging cats—two lying on pillows, Jane painting her toenails, Riley using a compact mirror to apply mascara, Sabrina flipping through her phone, and my mother sitting properly at the edge of the bed, arms crossed and one leg swung over the other because she has never perfected the art of lounging. Her idea of a good time involves critiquing me, and the look on her face says I am very clearly doing something wrong.
“You’re late,” she sings.
“It’s only eleven-thirty,” I sing back. “I still have an hour and a half until the make-up artist gets here. I will only be wasting time from now until then.” My mother glances out the window, and suddenly the silence in the room feels weighted. No one is looking at me. “She is still coming, right?”
“About that…” my aunt Barbara says.
“Oh no,” I say. “Now she’s canceled too? What’s next, the minister?”
My mother clears her throat, and my own throat closes in on itself. “Him too?” The words come out like a squeak, thin and crackled. “This is supposed to be the happiest day of my life, and everything is falling apart.” I turn toward the window only to be greeted by the glaring presence of snow all around me. I’ve always loved snow, dreamed of it nearly every day when I was stuck on that island in Mexico. Right now, I can barely stand the sight of it. For something so pure, it sure has muddied up the biggest dream I’ve ever had and reduced it to slush.
I turn to see five sets of eyes trained on me, and tears fill my eyes. I need to leave before my emotions spiral out of control.
“Someone call Liam and tell him the wedding is off. I’m going to spend the rest of the day hiding in dad’s office. Please don’t follow me. I just want to be left alone.”
I run from the room, tears falling faster than I can wipe them away. The ability to see doesn’t matter anyway. I know the way to my father’s office. I’ve spent many hours there playing...reading…hiding before.
* * *
Liam
I locate her exactly where her mother said she would be, in a room I’ve never set foot inside until now because it somehow seemed disrespectful. Today I would disrespect any man, woman, animal, or piece of paper who came between me and my ability to talk some sense into my fiancée. When Riley called to say Dillon canceled the wedding, I laughed. And then I panicked.
Now I’ve settled on angry with the tiniest ounce of compassion mixed in. So tiny it’s nearly minuscule, but it grows a little at the sound of Dillon crying. I’ve gone weak at the sound of her tears many times in the last year, and today is no exception. Thank God weakness doesn’t cower to determination where I’m concerned, not today or ever. I didn't shovel snow yesterday and today
for a wedding not to happen. My best friend didn’t fall off a roof for nothing.
“What are you doing in here?” I say, careful to keep any edge out of my voice. I don’t want to scare her, though I’m not leaving without kissing the bride. Not the future bride. Not the maybe someday bride. The today bride, no arguments.
“Hiding from this horrendous day. Did my mom tell you nearly everyone has canceled?” She’s wedged between her father’s desk and the wall, staring out a big picture window. The only thing visible is white. She looks up at me with teary eyes, her face a wet, make-up free palette of sadness. I feel my heart crack a bit more, but I hold it together.
“She did. That’s a huge bummer, I suppose.”
She frowns. “You suppose? It means we can’t get married today. How can we, without any guests? Even the caterer isn’t coming.”
I lean against the wall and stare down at her. “We have guests. We also have a few people who know how to cook, a good thing since we are getting married today. In less than two hours, in fact. So, you should probably get dressed.”
Her face morphs into an irritated scowl at the same time her arm makes a giant sweeping gesture toward the window. “Liam, have you looked outside? It’s still snowing. No one is coming, and I doubt we can even drive to the church. There’s no way we can get married today. We can’t even leave the house.” She stares at me, clearly waiting for me to agree with her.
I don’t.
“Then we’ll get married here.”
It takes a half-beat for her to register the words, but finally, her mouth falls open.
“Here? At my parent’s house? Why would we get married here?”
“Because it’s where all the people are. Everyone who’s coming to the wedding is here, except for one of my cousins who’s stuck at an airport in Tampa. Otherwise, all the bridesmaids, all the groomsmen, your parents and my mother, the whole family is here. Including your uncle who—fun fact—is an ordained minister from his time in the military.”
“Uncle Jerry? He is?”
Turns out Teddy’s father became ordained a couple decades back for the sole purpose of marrying a friend he met in the Army. His military stint was short-lived; his direct line to God was not. Lucky us. When I told Teddy about Dillon’s meltdown, his exact response was: “Oh, for God’s sake, just let my dad marry you.” After my initial surprise wore off, I told him to ask. His dad said yes, and he’s currently on the way here. Seeing as they live only two blocks away, Teddy’s parents should arrive at any moment. The convenient side of never straying far from family.
“Well, now you know. So are you just going to sit here the rest of the day, or do you want to maybe go put on your dress?”
She frowns up at me, but I can tell she’s considering it. The way she chews on her lower lip is a clear giveaway. I’ll take it as a victory.
“What about the chapel? It’s where my parents got married…”
“It’s a caved-in mess. A little more of the roof collapsed overnight.” I sigh. A shame, because it’s a picturesque little building. I have no doubt it will be restored one day, but I have no intention of waiting around for it.
The death of a dream can be a hard thing to take, but I’m here and ready to make a new dream for Dillon if she lets me. I reach for her hand to pull her up. Thankfully, she takes it. I tug her forward until we’re face to face, eye to eye. “I know it’s been your dream since you were a little girl, but what if we made a new one instead?” I tuck her hair behind one ear and tilt her chin up to look at me. “Dillon, I don’t care where we get married as long as we get married. Today. If I could have figured out a way to marry you on that island, I would have. That’s how certain I am. I’m equally certain that I don’t want to wait. Please say you’ll marry me now. If you do, I promise to make all your new dreams come true in the future. Just please say you’ll make mine come true today. Marry me, Dillon. Be my wife. I might die if you say no.”
For a long moment, she just looks at me. It feels like an eternity before she finally begins to smile. “You wouldn’t die because I won’t let you.” She wraps her arms around my neck and threads her hands through my hair. “I’ll marry you today if that’s what you want.” She leans in to kiss me, but I pull back.
“Not if it isn’t what you want, too.”
She frowns. “What about the decorations? What about the cake? What about the food?”
I lean in for a quick kiss. “It’s all been taken care of. Riley and Chad are downstairs, throwing things in the oven right now. Everyone else is working on decorations. If that’s all you’re worried about, it’s being handled as we speak. So, do you want to get married or not?”
When she gives me the first full smile I’ve seen in days, I have my answer.
“I do.”
“I think you’re supposed to save those words for the ceremony.”
She rolls her eyes. “Kiss me before I decide to go marry your brother instead.”
I laugh. Once upon a time, Chad’s crush on Dillon was legendary. Not to worry, he’s over it now, but that’s a battle I’d rather not revisit again. I pull her to me and kiss her long and slow, letting my hands wander a little too far before I realize what I’m doing. I give her a little shove away and take a step back. My lips practically ache with the abruptness.
“What was that for?” she asks. She’s out of breath, and her own lips are swollen. Score one for me.
I grin. “I was getting a little ahead of myself. Wedding first, honeymoon second.”
She blushes, but then she gasps. “You’re not supposed to see me before the wedding! You need to get out of here, Liam. It’s bad luck.”
Oh, to heck with that nonsense. I reach for her again and pull her to me. The wedding can wait.
“Bad luck, are you kidding? We’ve managed to survive being stranded on an island, and now we’re stuck in the biggest snowstorm the south has ever seen. Talk about whiplash from the climate change. Something tells me we’ll survive breaking this tiny insignificant rule.”
“Insignificant until snow makes the house cave in,” she mutters.
“Shut up and kiss me,” I say.
“Okay, but only for a second. I have a wedding to get ready for.”
“Only for a second,” I whisper.
Just so you know, we kiss for longer than a second.
Chapter Eleven
(The Wedding)
Dillon
The beginning strains of the wedding march drift up the stairs and into my old bedroom. I haven’t lived here in years, but I’m still a little sad. Maybe it’s the way you feel when you come face to face with the sudden end of childhood. My parent’s home has always been in the back of my mind. A backup plan if all other plans failed. But this feels like a goodbye of sorts. A goodbye to Dillon Hayes and all the years she spent dreaming on this bed. Dreaming of tooth fairies and Santa Claus, dreaming of first kisses and prom night, dreaming of graduation and college acceptance letters. Dreaming of finding the right man, that someday…maybe someday…that dream might come true.
It was a weird route to finding him, but find him I did.
“You almost ready, Queenie?” I smile at my father’s nickname and catch sight of him through the wall mirror next to my bed. When I turn, I hear his breath catch. I’m forced to look away when the first glimmer of tears collect in the corner of his eyes. He’s the first man I ever loved, and he’s giving me away to the second.
“How do I look?” I give a single turn to let him see me at every angle. My whole life, he’s the one person who always has.
“You look like a princess. No, better than a princess. You look like the queen you’ve always been to me.” He walks over to kiss me on the forehead, and I feel my own eyes begin to prickle with tears. For something as pure as water, tears sure can sting the eyes and the heart. “Are you ready to do this?”
“As ready as I’ll ever be.” I look around my old bedroom and gather up the memories. I’ll need to take them with me t
o my new life. Though maybe there’s one I should keep here, to hold me for the next time I visit. Instead of taking my dad’s waiting arm, I turn and wrap him in a hug. He’s a big man, but my arms can manage. “I love you, Daddy. Thank you for always looking out for me.”
“I’ll always look out for you, sweetheart, even now.” He wraps me in his embrace, and I can feel his chest tremble a bit. It can’t be an easy thing, letting go of your only child. My mother will undoubtedly turn her overbearing ways onto him, but I guess that’s what you sign up for when you choose to marry a person. The good, the bad, the beautiful, the ugly, the overbearing. At least I know they love each other. It’s more than a lot of people can say. “You just let me know if that new husband of yours turns out to be a jerk so I can come beat him up for you.”
What would a father be if he didn’t offer his unique methods of protection? I laugh, and the sentimentality of the moment is gone. It’s a good thing; my heart might not be able to handle the emotion. “I’ll let you know, but I’m pretty sure he isn’t a jerk.” I smile and take his arm.
“Okay, I’m ready. Though it is kind of weird to be getting married at home.” He must hear something in my tone because he frowns slightly in surprise.
“What place is better than home?” he asks. “All the best things have happened in this house. You grew up here, and to me, that’s the best thing of all.”
“I wanted to get married in the same church as you and mom.” But when he puts it that way…
“Did anyone ever tell you that when we got married, the roof was leaking, so your mother had to walk around a drip bucket when she walked down the aisle?”
My mouth falls in surprise. “I’ve never heard that story before.”
My dad smiles. “Your mom doesn’t like to talk about it, she’d rather pretend that our wedding was perfect. But sweetheart, I’ll let you in on a little secret: there’s no such thing as a perfect wedding or even a perfect marriage. But if you work hard enough, you can get the marriage pretty darn close.”