11. Emma
CHAPTER ELEVEN
EMMA
I can’t believe I quoted an eighties song to Aaron, but seeing the look on his face makes me giggle. I leave him standing in the kitchen as I duck into the bride’s room, where Hillary has been getting ready with her mother.
Oh, her mother.
Just seeing Mrs. Mays, with her gold, glittery mother-of-the-bride dress, makes me a touch happier that my mother probably won’t come to my wedding. And that I haven’t had to deal with her for almost twenty years now.
Of course, I’m not really happy about that, and a thread of guilt tugs through my gut for even thinking it.
“Emma’s here,” Ryanne says. “That’s everyone.”
I join everyone around Hillary, crowding in close on her left side with Tahlia. We make the perfect halo, with her the bright white center in her gorgeous mermaid wedding gown. I sigh, so much happiness parading through me.
“You’re gorgeous,” Claudia says, her voice as soft as angel wings. Hillary’s twisted and pinned her hair up in ringlets, and her strapless dress has a beaded and glittering bodice that gives way to shiny satin as it clings to her hips and upper thighs, then billows out.
If she’s wearing shoes, I can’t see them, and they’re not needed to complete the picture of a perfect bride.
“I’m really doing this,” Hillary says. “I can’t believe it.”
“Of course you are, dear,” Her mother waves her hand almost dismissively, as if Hillary hasn’t been engaged twice but never married. Her eyes meet mine, and I give her my best reassuring, encouraging smile. After all, I have a mother who says cruel things too, whether intentional or not.
“Is Daddy ready?” Hillary asks.
“Yes, of course,” her mother says.
Hillary turns from the mirror, and we bloom out to give her room, and then the five of us close in again, creating a six-way hug. “This is going to be amazing,” Tahlia says.
“You’re beautiful, and he’s so lucky,” Ryanne whispers.
“The wedding of the year,” Lizzie tells her.
I hug my arm around her waist tightly, smiling around at everyone. Claudia sniffles and says, “I love you guys.”
“I can’t wait for all of you to get married,” I say, barely holding back my own emotions. We separate, and I flit around to check all the wrist corsages I made.
They haven’t suffered any damage from our squeeze-fest, and Hillary’s mother says, “It’s time to line up, ladies. The groomsmen are in the kitchen.”
That means Liam is at the altar, and I see Hill’s eyes move to the window. It’s curtained, so we can’t see out, but I look too. “He’s there,” I tell her, and then I go to line up.
Liam owns his own business, and he works a one-man construction operation. Aaron is his only groomsman, and he’ll walk down the aisle alone. That leaves the five of us, as Hillary’s roommates to walk down the aisle together, and we’ve decided on a V-formation, with the tallest of us in the middle.
That’s Claudia, and she’s the perfect cornerstone for us, and I link my arm through hers, and Lizzie connects herself to the V on my left side. Ry and Tahlia take up their position on Claude’s other side, and we stand behind Aaron as Hillary’s mom slips outside while her daddy goes into the bride’s room.
I take a deep breath, suddenly able to feel the nerves pouring off of Aaron only a few paces in front of me. He’s nervous about this wedding, because Liam is his best friend, and everyone knows so many things change when two people get married.
At his side, his fingers tap, tap, tap against his leg, and as I stand there and wait for the cue to go out the door and get to the orchard, I realize I’ve seen Aaron’s nerves manifest themselves this way before.
Or maybe he can just never stand still.
No matter what, he holds us all in place until someone opens the door and nods to him, and then his shoulders rise with a breath, and he leads us outside.
We go down the steps and sidewalk and past Liam’s garage. I’m starting to think we should’ve staged closer to the actual event, but then I see the chairs and decorations in the trees. They’ve just started to blossom, and everything inside me sighs at the sight of those flowers.
And Liam at the altar.
Music lilts through the trees, and Aaron pauses at the end of the aisle so the guests can get to their feet.
Then he takes the first step, and I admire him so much for being able to walk down the aisle all by himself. His shoulders are boxy and tense, but he practically glides down the aisle in his plaid shirt and cowboy hat.
We follow several paces behind him, and I can’t help feeling shiny and magical. I can’t stop smiling, and when we reach Liam, all five of us crowd into him and hug him tightly as he laughs.
Claudia will stand slightly behind Hillary, and I throw a supportive smile to Aaron before I go to take my spot in the front row.
I turn to see Hillary standing at the end of the aisle, her arm delicately placed in her father’s, both of them perfectly framed by the tree limbs and blossoms. I’m sure Liam trimmed them exactly right for her, because one quick glance at him shows his face shining with so much love.
I press my hand to my palm, not even caring that I’m semi-smashing my corsage against my chest. The bouquet is exquisite, if I do say so myself, and I absolutely love weddings.
And the wedding of one of my best friends? All of the work I put into the flowers for this event has been totally worth it.
“And I just don’t know, Grams.” I take another bite of her chocolate raspberry trifle, wishing I could bake half as well as I can arrange flowers.
“What do you have to lose?” she asks in her weathered, eighty-year-old voice. She covers my hand with hers. “Do you have time to do your own proposal?”
“No.” I sigh out the word, because it’s true and I wish it wasn’t. Sir Chills-a-Lot told me to swallow my pride and accept Aaron’s dare to submit a dual proposal to the city of Cider Cove. Because if I don’t, I won’t be able to participate in the clean-up project at the park at all.
“He just—you know what? He dared me to try to do something better than him, and that annoys me.” I scoop up another spoonful of delicious, dark chocolate cake and that layer of raspberry crème. “I mean, what goes better with a park clean-up and renovation than flowers?”
“A handyman who knows how to build anything he wants,” Grams says, no question mark in sight.
I give her a salty look and eat my dessert, because she’s not wrong. In fact, no one in town can beat Aaron. We’ll all just look pathetic trying.
In that moment, I realize that he’s essentially given me half of his money by offering—daring—me to go in on a proposal with him. My heartbeat thrashes for a moment, and I tell myself it’s because of all the sugar I’ve eaten this evening.
But I’m wrong, and I know it.
“When will I get to meet him?” Grams asks.
I look up and into her eyes. So much like mine, they shine with a blueness that all the women in our family have. “I don’t know,” I say.
“You don’t have to hide him from me.” She gives me a smile and stands. “You want some milk with your cake?”
“Yes, please,” I say like I’m six years old, eating cookies and milk. “And I don’t think I’m hiding him from you.” My words slow as I try to put them in the right order. “I think I’m hiding you from him.”
“What? Why would you need to do that?”
I sigh again. “Because, Grams, I haven’t told him about our family.”
She says nothing, which is her way of saying so much. “I’m not embarrassed of you,” I say. “It’s not that. It’s just…I don’t want to explain it all again.”
“Well, that’s just silly,” Grams says in that old-lady way she has. She doesn’t mean to hurt me, but she told me a decade ago that she doesn’t have any sugar-coating left in her. So she just says what she means now.
“You want to fall in love, right?” she asks, plunking the glass of milk down in front of me.
“So aggressive,” I say. She cocks her eyebrow at me. “Yes, of course, Grams.”
She sits and folds her arms, those blue eyes so cold and calculating now. Yikes. “So you’re going to wait until I die, is that it? Then you won’t have to explain about your family. You’ll just say—‘I don’t have anyone.’ And that’ll be it.”
“No, Grams. I’m not waiting for you to die.” I take a sip of the milk, really wishing I could have whole milk all the time. It’s all Grams drinks, and I love her for it.
“The man you marry will want to know all about your family, whether I’m alive or not.” She unclenches her arms and leans into me again, giving me a side-hug. “ If you’re not embarrassed, then what’s holding you back?”
“I’m not embarrassed of you,” I say again. “But that doesn’t mean this situation isn’t…hard for me.” I look right at her, knowing I can tell her. I just never have. “I’m worried about how it’ll make me look, Grams.”
Confusion riddles her brow. “I don’t understand.”
“My parents abandoned me here when I was fifteen,” I say. “Because why? Because I’m so horrible they couldn’t stand me? Because I came along so far after Seth and Paul, they ran out of patience?”
I swallow, the truth right there on my tongue. And it won’t go away. “Because I’m so unlovable?”
“Of course not,” Grams barks out. “Emma, none of that is true.”
“For you.” I swirl my spoon through the trifle, but I don’t take another bite. “Sometimes…sometimes I wonder if all of the above is true, and you’ve simply been too kind to say it all these years.”
“I say what I want,” Grams says. “And it’s not true.” She points one wrinkled finger at me. “And any man— any man on this planet, Em—who would even think that for one second is not worth your time.”
I smile, though tears prick my eyes. “Okay, Grams.”
“So are you hiding him from me because you think he’ll think that? Because if so, you should be glad he didn’t kiss you at the wedding. Hasta la vista to this hot handyman. We don’t need ‘im. ”
“Grams, calm down.” I laugh and shake my head. “No, I don’t think Aaron will think that. Sometimes, I’m just a little irrational.”
“So no more hiding.”
I swallow, and it takes an extra second to nod. “All right,” I say. “No more hiding.”
Grams beams like she’s just won a year’s worth of Christmas Days. “Great. Then I’ll have you two for dinner this weekend.”
“Grams—”
“Don’t argue with me, young lady.” Grams pins me with a pointed look. “I know you’re busy, but you can spare two hours with me next Sunday. You’ll be here anyway.”
And she’s, once again, not wrong, so I say, “Okay. Aaron and I will come to dinner next Sunday.”