Chapter 25
Layla
“Layla, honey. It’s time to get up.” The tinny voice sounds like Dolly’s, and I swat at her hand combing my hair back from my face, and mumble something about letting me sleep.
“Layla…wake up.” That one sounds like Goldie laughing while vigorously rubbing my shoulder.
“Go away.” I tug the comforter up over my head, rolling over onto my belly and slinging an arm over Russell’s stomach, though it’s a lot smoother and rounder than I remember.
It’s Violet’s voice that makes my eyes pop open when she says from beside me, “Great, now I have to pee again. Someone help me up.” Faye helps Violet sit up so she can swing her legs over the edge of the mattress. She holds her huge baby bump while she shuffles around my bed toward the bathroom.
Cora plops onto the mattress with a knowing smile and props her head up on her hand with extra large curlers set in her hair. “It’s about time you woke up.”
I yawn, wiping the sleep from my eyes while my fellow Granny’s Girls—all wearing silky robes in a pale shade of indigo—hover around with bright eyes and excited expressions. “ What are y’all doing here? And what are y’all wearing?”
Faye tucks a strand of blonde hair behind her ear. The upper half of her hairdo is braided and twisted around her head, the lower half curled in barrel waves that end just past her shoulders. She nods to Dolly, who has been hiding something behind her back.
“Surprise!” Dolly brings her hands to her front, holding up a matching robe on a wooden clothing hanger with the word brIDE ironed onto the back in big, white vinyl script.
My heart skips a beat. “That’s for me?”
“Yes!” Goldie is practically dancing in her fuzzy white slippers with glee, gripping the sides of her robe that have parted to reveal her rounded belly, and for once, I don’t have to immediately look away.
“Get out of bed, sleepyhead,” Violet says, waddling out of the private hallway in slippers as well. “You don’t want to be late for your wedding, do you?”
I throw my comforter off and roll up on my knees. “What?”
“You’re getting married!” Dolly shouts, clapping her hands when I take the clothing hanger from her.
“What?” I scream again, having heard them all just fine, and scramble off the mattress.
Cora jumps off after me. “You’re getting married!”
I clutch the robe to my chest. “Oh my god, I’m getting married?”
The girls shatter my eardrums when they all scream, “Yes!”
Hopping from one foot to the other, I ask, “Today?”
“Yes!”
“How?”
Violet laughs and says, “My friend, Carolina, works at the courthouse, and she processed your marriage license after Russell tricked you into signing the forms at the hospital.”
“Isn’t that illegal?”
“Very, so shh.” Violet holds her index finger to her smiling lips. “Our little secret.”
Faye shoos me into the bathroom so I can shower. “Chop, chop. We need to get you all fancied up.”
“Where is Russell? Is he here?” I ask, coming out of the bathroom wearing my robe, having rushed through my shower, shaving everything, and drying and styling my hair neater than I’ve ever done so before.
“He and the men are at Elliott’s getting ready,” Goldie says, leading the pack out of my bedroom.
“Wow. This isn’t a dream,” I whisper in awe, with my hands held to my cheeks as I spin around in the living room where all of the windows and glass doors have been draped with gauzy white curtains. The light weave of the fabric softens the bright sunshine, yet they’re thick enough that no one will be able to see through while we get ready.
“Layla!” a woman with a sweet voice calls from behind.
“Eden, hi!” I hurry to embrace the professional makeup artist I recognize well from a few of the weddings Violet has planned closer to Austin. “Thank you so much for coming all the way out here.”
“I wouldn’t have missed it,” she says with a giggle when I don’t let her go, squeezing her extra tight. I told Violet off-handedly once that Eden was my favorite of all the artists we’ve worked with, and for her to have traveled to be my artist only heightens my rising emotions.
Eden swivels one of the bar stools at the kitchen island so I can take a seat, then spins me back around and flips the light switch on the large vanity mirror she has set up on the countertop. Cora hands me a mimosa and a plate piled with pastries and fruit from the catered breakfast charcuterie boards set in the middle of the kitchen table.
I watch as Eden expertly transforms my face, and it almost brings tears to my eyes to see that the purple smudges I spent so many years hiding with full-coverage concealer have faded considerably. It’s one of the best gifts Russell has ever given me—the ability to sleep deeply on top of or beside him every night—and my regular makeup won’t have to work so hard any longer.
“Stop,” Eden says, fanning my face with her hands, then hers. “You’re going to make me cry with how happy you look.”
“I dreamed of this for so long,” I say with a thick voice, sweeping my hand around to indicate the wonderful women in my life, the house, and beyond the windows to the man I get to spend the rest of my life with. “I can’t believe it’s really happening.”
“Believe it,” my former boss at the bridal boutique says. Mrs. Larsen’s black high heels click across the floor when she steps out of the front entryway, carrying in the summer breeze and an extra-long white garment bag.
“Is that—oh my.” I slip off the bar stool when Mrs. Larsen hooks the clothing hanger high on the stair railing and unzips the bag, revealing the ivory satin material of the A-line gown with its low straight neckline, thin satin straps, and hand-draped bodice. “How did you know this is my dream dress?”
Mrs. Larsen narrows her eyes but with good-natured humor behind them. “You always skipped picking it to show to brides, even when it would have been precisely what they were looking for and thus an easy sale and commission. ”
“Guilty,” I say, feeling not at all so. I couldn’t bring myself to let anyone else try it on, especially since it was already close to my size, as if it was designed just for me. Having gained a bit of weight, I bet it’ll fit perfectly now.
“As soon as I heard you and Russell were finally together, I marched right into his office and demanded he purchase it. I’ve been holding it in the back for you ever since so he wouldn’t be tempted to peek. You were a terrible sales associate, but you’ll be a beautiful bride.”
Ok, now I feel guilty. “Um, thanks?”
“You’re welcome,” Mrs. Larsen says with her chin raised high, breezing out the front door as quickly as she came in.
“The cake?” I ask Violet, who’s adjusting the narrow straps of her bridesmaid dress that matches the streaks of blue in her hair, replacing her purple highlights.
“Three-tier lemon elderflower cake with edible pearls and vintage drop lines.”
“What about flowers? You know I’ve always wanted—”
Violet clasps her hands together in front, using her calm and confident wedding planner voice. “Cascading wisteria and white roses.”
“What about—”
Violet relaxes, taking my hands in hers. “How long have we been best friends?”
“Three and a half years.”
“And how long has Russell been in love with you?”
“Three and a half years,” I repeat with a blush.
“Trust that we know and love you inside and out and have planned the wedding of your dreams down to the finest details.”
I nod, forcing my tears back so I don’t ruin my gorgeous makeup.
“Good. Now, let’s get you dressed so you can marry the man who has literally—”
“Allegedly.”
“Buried a man alive for you, ok?”
“Ok,” I answer without the least bit of hesitation.
* * *
Russell
“Ah, shi-oot.” I push my thumbs into my eyes to keep from crying. Layla hasn’t even stepped into sight, and I’m already beside myself, not sure how I’m going to make it through our ceremony without melting into a puddle in front of most of the town and all my employees not out on the road.
Elliott, my best man, presses a white bandana into my hand. “You good?”
“No.” I turn to face the woods, blotting my eyes with the bandana.
It was quite the feat having the rental company come in and discreetly build the expansive temporary pergola far enough away from the house that Layla wouldn’t see but close enough that our guests wouldn’t get lost on our property. With the temperatures easily reaching ninety degrees by noon, we had to do something to keep our guests somewhat cool so she could have the wedding she’s always dreamed of, which included Violet ordering an entire store’s worth of fabric to weave in and out of the wooden beams for cover, the ends fluttering in the breeze .
Elliott stuffs his hands in his pockets, rolling his shoulders, uncomfortable in his navy blue suit. “Never thought I’d see the day you’d get married.”
“You were literally my best man at my first wedding.” On Layla’s behalf, knowing it’s what she would want, Violet sent a wedding invitation to Renee and Francisco…and Renee was kind enough to decline, expressing her belief that this day should be all about the present without the past pushing in.
Elliott chuckles. “I meant to Layla. Thought you’d die pining after her. A depressing way to go.”
“Geez, thanks.” I slap my brother’s back. Lowering my voice and leaning in, I say, “That reminds me. Thank you for what you did with Allen.”
“Don’t mention it,” Elliott replies, underplaying the monumental favor he did us.
“No, really. This day wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t dug him up and driven all night to drop him at the border. Thank you.”
Elliott coughs, clenching his jaw and looking away, as choked up as I am. “The life you’ve given me after everything that happened with—you know I’d do anything for you.”
“Same here, brother.”
Elliott disappears, and I turn to face the crowd when the folk band begins their instrumental rendition of Til There’s Nothing Left by Cam. My chin won’t stop quivering as I watch our wedding party step out of the white limousines hired to drive them to the end of the ivory aisle runner. Two by two, they make their way past the sea of seated guests: Cora and Trace, Goldie and Davis, Dolly and Wyatt, Faye and Harold, and lastly, Violet and Jared, all either smiling brilliantly or with tears in their eyes .
Finally, the last limousine pulls forward, and the band’s singer stands, motioning for our guests to rise as the band loops the song, and she begins with the first verse. I catch a sob with my hand over my mouth when Paul opens the back passenger door, reaches a hand inside, and helps my stunning bride out into the sunlight that doesn’t shine nearly as bright or golden as her.
Elliott bumps the door closed, and together, he and Paul walk my Layla down the aisle, her arms hooked around their elbows. My son, my woman, my brother—the three most important people in my life.
God , I’m a lucky man.
Finding it hard to breathe as my heart beats a faster rhythm, my tears flow freely. The only reason I remain standing on the wooden platform is that I don’t trust myself not to collapse into a heap if I were to leave it to meet her in the aisle.
Her . Layla. My darlin’. My beautiful present and future.