24. Bex
Chapter twenty-four
Bex
Sofia's wedding is in a few hours. The hush of anticipation hums through the air.
I set my coffee mug on the small porch table, watching staff members move across the lawn with purposeful strides.
I recognize some of them from earlier in the week: florists adjusting centerpieces, a DJ hefting a large speaker across the grass, Casey with a camera around her neck snapping candids of the setup.
Skye appears occasionally, orchestrating with calm authority, while Jordan is nowhere in sight, presumably sequestered in pre-ceremony strategy.
And Kit...
I swallow. I glimpsed Kit near the arbor earlier, wearing a sleeveless, neatly tailored black jumpsuit that manages to look both professional and entirely her.
She was flipping calmly through her binder, occasionally speaking to staff or assisting the florist with final arbor adjustments.
Even from a distance, I could sense a difference in her.
A subtle undercurrent. Something that told me last night's conversation is still alive between us.
Now, from my vantage point in the cottage door, I feel it again. The pull. I press my mug to my lips and close my eyes, letting the coffee's warmth anchor me. My sister's wedding day has arrived. No matter what else happens, that fact deserves every bit of my presence.
At noon, I join Sofia in the bridal suite.
We're joined by Lexi and two of Sofia's close friends, as well as the stylist. It's a swirl of hair spray, last-minute decisions about jewelry, and possibly too many excited squeals from Lexi.
Sofia looks radiant in a simple off-white dress with a scalloped neckline.
She's opted for minimal beading and a slight train that makes her seem effortlessly elegant.
At one point, I help fasten Sofia's necklace in the low-lit corner of the suite. The older sister who once teased me for wearing mismatched socks. The person who used to bail me out when I borrowed our father's car and nearly ended up with a massive ticket. God, we've come a long way.
"You look good," Sofia says, turning around to brush a piece of my hair off my forehead. Her voice is wobbly. "I'm so glad you're here."
I pretend not to notice the sudden sting of tears. "I wouldn't let you do this alone, Fi."
We both know who isn't out there: our father.
After everything, after the garden tour and the compliments and I can see the appeal, when it came down to actually sitting in a chair and watching it happen, Marcello found somewhere else to be.
Lucia is in the seating area, alone, holding their whole family's attendance on her own shoulders.
My throat tightens. I focus on smoothing the lace at the hem of Sofia's train.
By four, everyone is assembled at the lakefront ceremony spot.
Hollyvale's modest Christmas décor has been tastefully integrated into the wedding design: the low garlands along the small arbor woven with white roses and baby's breath, the chairs with subtle green bows.
The entire scene looks like a held breath beneath the broad sun, the lake shimmering behind it like a perfect painting.
I stand on the bride's side with Lexi, both of us wearing dresses in soft gray.
A gentle breeze sweeps in from the water, just enough to make the day comfortable.
When the music starts, piano and a light string accompaniment, a silent shiver runs through my arms. I see Jordan standing at the makeshift altar, Skye at their side, and the officiant calmly preparing.
Jordan wears a tailored suit, crisp in pale gray, and looks as though they might burst with joy.
Sofia walks down the aisle holding a small bouquet of off-white blooms. She's on the edge of tears, but the glow in her eyes trumps anything else.
Jordan cries first. Then Sofia cries. It's a chain reaction.
I have to wipe at my own eyes with my thumb because I refuse to fully break down in front of all these people, but my heart hammers with emotion.
And across the aisle, near the back row where the planners station themselves, stands Kit with her clipboard.
She's neat, efficient, and absolutely locked into the moment.
At least, that's what I tell myself. But when I glance over during the vows, I don't catch her checking the schedule or monitoring the caterers.
I catch her gaze right on me, that calm brown stare that makes me feel seen inside out.
We both look away at the same time, as if the contact is too much.
Reverend Whitaker guides Sofia and Jordan through the vows.
Words about love, about building a life together, about the union that welcomes flaws and differences.
My whole chest feels full. I hope my sister can hold on to that happiness.
Maybe it isn't the wedding our parents envisioned, but it feels right.
The officiant says, "By the power vested in me..." and Jordan and Sofia kiss, to thunderous applause. Skye blinks back tears as she hands Jordan a tissue. Lexi whoops. Even the staff claps from the sides. I realize I'm beaming like a fool, and I don't care.
They recess up the aisle in a swirl of music and rose petals.
The rest of us in the bridal party follow.
I pivot around to see Kit giving a discreet thumbs-up to one of the staff, which makes my lips curl into a smile.
It all feels easy in that moment. Like for one perfect flash of time, everything aligns.
I exhale, letting that sense of quiet hope settle in my body.
The reception starts an hour later on the inn's back lawn, the same spot that hosted the rehearsal dinner but now even more decked out.
Round tables under a wide-open tent, strings of white lights overhead, a small dance floor next to the head table.
The band, live, a small group of local musicians, plays gentle tunes while guests find their seats.
Kit glides between staff, ensuring nothing is amiss.
I'm seated with Lexi, Casey, and two of Sofia's college friends.
I half-listen to their banter about how great Sofia looked dancing with Jordan.
But my eyes drift unerringly to the far side of the lawn, where Kit stands speaking with Jordan, both of them laughing about something.
The real laugh. Kit's posture loses half its tension whenever she's genuinely amused.
Her shoulders drop, her chin tilts up a fraction.
I wish I could hear what Jordan is saying.
A flush of warmth spreads across my chest. I file the whole observation under curiosity about how the wedding staff interacts with the wedding party. Right, sure. Not very convincing.
Sometime into the second dance, Lucia finds me. She's changed into a subdued blue dress after the ceremony, maybe out of some desire to fit in without claiming mother-of-the-bride status too openly. Her face looks gently pensive. She catches my elbow with a careful touch.
"Dance with me?" Lucia asks quietly.
I hesitate. Music is playing. Not quite a waltz, not quite a slow dance, just a gentle, swaying tune. I glance at my mother's outstretched hand and then oblige, letting Lucia lead me off to the side of the dance floor.
We step carefully in time for a few beats, slightly awkward, since I've never specifically slow-danced with my mother. But we find a rhythm. Lucia's grip is light, her expression thoughtful.
"Sofia looks happy," Lucia says out of nowhere. Her gaze passes to where Jordan and Sofia are talking to Casey with beaming smiles.
I nod. "Yeah, she does."
Lucia's lips press together. "That's what matters, isn't it?
" Her eyes flicker with something like regret.
"I've been..." She swallows. "I've been thinking about how complicated your father and I made it.
But in the end, Sofia is... she's married to the person she loves.
She didn't wait for our blessing. She just did it. And she's happy."
My shoulders tense. I'm not sure if this is an opening for an argument or an olive branch. The band's gentle music circles us in a bubble. I notice the lines near my mother's eyes, deeper than I remember, and realize that maybe Lucia carries regret, too.
"It is what matters," I say finally. My voice comes out steadier than I feel. "Are you going to tell Dad that?"
A quiet breath. Lucia's expression creases with sadness. "I have, repeatedly. He's hurt and worried and stubborn. It will take time."
"It always does," I say, no judgment in my tone, just exhaustion.
We sway another moment. Then Lucia squeezes my hand, the kind of comforting gesture she rarely displays. "Thank you for being there for Sofia. Even when things were... difficult."
My chest constricts with emotion. I don't trust myself to speak.
I just nod. The music ends. Lucia slips away to return to the table of distant relatives from our father's side, who came despite Marcello's absence from the ceremony.
That leaves me alone on the edge of the dance floor, heart pounding.
I scan across the reception. A few couples sway to the next track.
Lexi and some others are already forming a small conga line, because that's apparently the level of chaos Lexi needs to bring.
On the other side, Jordan and Skye discuss something with the caterer.
Casey snaps photos of the newlyweds, capturing the swirl of a thousand tiny moments.
Kit. There she is. Standing with her arms crossed, talking to Jordan about the next sequence. She laughs. The real laugh, unguarded, bright. Her eyes light at the corners, and she blinks once in that endearing way I've come to expect.
And there it is. A specific clarity I can't ignore.
The feeling that slides through my chest is more than attraction, more than curiosity.
It's that quiet sense of seeing the person you want, exactly as they are, and finding it's the one who fits you best. Maybe that's too big a statement.
Maybe I shouldn't get carried away. But in the hush of that realization, I know I'm not making it up.
I want Kit. I want to see that laugh every day.
I want to film or be filmed, whatever it takes, because that's how you keep a piece of realness.
I recall Kit's face on the porch last night, half in shadow, half in flickering light, uncertain but on the brink of a choice. My heart thumps harder. This isn't just a fling or a wild weekend. Not anymore. I close my eyes for a second, grounding myself in the echo of that knowledge.
Eventually, I open them and catch Kit's eye from across the lawn. Immediately, her laughter softens into a smaller smile, gentle and questioning. It's as if she felt me looking. She lifts her chin, almost as though to say, Wait for me. I'll come to you in a minute.
My answer is a nod. A mere tilt of my head, but it contains everything. Yes. I'll be here.
I turn my gaze to the dance floor. Sofia and Jordan twirl by, glowing with that newly married energy, as if the entire day were a promise of something bigger. Sofia mouths something at me, maybe Are you having fun? I grin and give her a thumbs-up.
Fun. Sure. Only it's bigger than fun. It's the sense I've been chasing for years: wanting something enough to be scared of losing it. I realize that fear is a sign I'm alive.
I look back to where Kit stood, but the crowd momentarily closes the space, and I don't see her. That's okay. Because I already know. I've known it for days, maybe weeks, maybe longer.
I take in a breath that feels like it could expand my lungs more fully than any other in my life. Then a flush of warmth spreads through my entire body.
Yes. I know it completely now.