Chapter 31
I don’t think even all the time in the world would have given Robbie the chance to prepare for the exact moment Mila set foot on the balcony of the bridal suite and came down the stairs, dragging her long dress slowly, step by step.
Here comes the bride, down the stairs with her blue eyes sparkling almost as much as the sea in the background. And here we are, seated on the lawn, the altar beneath a floral arch overlooking the beach, and poor Robbie standing there, dissolving into tears.
The bridesmaids and I are standing side by side, each in her respective place, waiting for the moment Mila will arrive to complete our half of the altar, just as Robbie’s half is complete at the moment, Jasper first by his side, followed by the other groomsmen.
The bride finally reaches the bottom of the stairs, where Mr. Carnegie is waiting for her. She accepts her father’s hand, and I clear my throat, slightly flustered.
I don’t even know if I’m laughing, crying, or choking. You have no idea how her back looks in this dress! I think all those months of intense yoga with Suzi really paid off because she looks like a complete diva.
I don’t think I was ready for that kind of beauty.
They were playing the wedding march the whole time, but now the string quartet slowly transitions into the opening chords of Ordinary by Alex Warren.
Then Mila begins her walk to the altar.
This is it. This is what romance is made of.
This is the kind of love that songs and books and poems and all kinds of art… this is what they’re talking about.
After that, it’s all downhill, because once the officiant finishes a speech so profound it made Lianne sob uncontrollably, it’s time for the vows.
Both with trembling, passionate voices, as they have been over the last ten years.
Then come the flower girls, the same adorable outfit, tripping over the carpet and making everyone let out a tearful laugh as they carry the rings to the altar.
By the time the groom finally kisses the bride and they are declared husband and wife, I have no tears left.
Well, now that Mila and Robbie are officially married, after an insane amount of rice going down my cleavage and an extensive sequence of photos and videos, we are guided to another area of the mansion, still facing the sea, but now in an open courtyard, full of arches in that classic Spanish hacienda style.
A mix of white flowers and huge tropical leaves everywhere, tables already perfectly decorated with porcelain dishes and tall candles in glass holders, ready to be lit at sunset.
Gus Carnegie takes the stage, which is actually a gazebo made of wood and metal, in the same romantic and traditional style as the rest of the house.
He looks for the microphone, grabs one on the speaker, but before he can say anything, Catrina, the wedding planner, comes running, holding a lapel mic, clipping it onto his jacket, with the transmitter in the back pocket.
All speeches are being recorded for the official wedding video, and they need clean sound, without interference from the gusts of wind the sea brings every now and then.
He tests the mic a few times, trying to get used to it, and starts thanking everyone for attending, while the guests find their seats at the tables. A few dad jokes are made to break the ice, and only after everyone is seated that he starts the speech.
Well, almost everyone, because I still don’t dare. I still can’t sit where I’m supposed to. I can’t… I can’t even look at him.
But let’s be honest, Jasper is smart. Never thought I’d say this, but he really did graduate from Stanford law school after four years at an Ivy League college.
And he sure makes a lot of money convincing judges to reduce sentences and let white collar jerks off the hook. There’s no way he isn’t smart.
So of course, obviously, he noticed that the only empty seat at the wedding party’s table was exactly next to Connor. And of course, obviously, he noticed that the only missing person at that table was me.
And it’s also very easy to know that, at some point, he would say something. I just didn’t expect him to do it at the worst, absolute worst moment of all.
The bar officially opens. The waiters begin serving appetizers. White fish ceviche and mini shrimp tacos. Octopus tostadas with guacamole. And glasses upon glasses of white wine.
Uncle Henry takes the stage and grabs the mic. And, because he’s already waving a giant margarita in his hand like a clumsy child, the staff lets him stay on the stage mic.
Very appropriate, considering the first thing out of his mouth is a burp. The socialites widen their eyes in shock (or at least as far as the Botox allows) while the bald, pot-bellied husbands chuckle politely in that reserved, rich-people way, even when they genuinely find something funny.
Lianne rubs her face, like she’s trying to hide that this is her brother.
I think everyone knows it’s better if the audio of this speech disappears forever and no one remembers what he said.
“Many of you don’t know, but I was in the delivery room when Camila was born…”
I try to hide next to the yet-to-be-served cheese and charcuterie table, but I’m not very effective, because suddenly Catrina is next to me, hand on my shoulder, reminding me we need to install the microphone.
I’m wearing a long baby-pink dress, not a suit like the lucky men at this event, so she has to unzip the entire dress to clip the transmitter somewhere inside it before I go on stage to give my speech.
“And it’s not every day you see your sister with her spread legs in front of you…” My God, Uncle Henry! “But I looked at that little monster, all bloody and covered in slime… because, you know, she’s beautiful today, but when she was born she looked like a gremlin, let me tell you…”
I follow Catrina to a small room behind the stage, a sort of annex of the main house. There’s a soundboard that seems to control the entire audio system of the space, and the walls are covered in soundproofing panels, because I can no longer hear any of Uncle Henry’s absurd story outside.
As I said, I don’t know if that’s a bad thing, to be honest.
Looking around, it seems like a studio/dressing room, with couches, fridges, and a ton of instruments, and this is definitely where Boyce Avenue will be until they take the stage for the first dance.
The bridesmaids’ dresses are all identical, obviously chosen by Mila, with an intricate web of straps that only a handful of dressing assistants could arrange. So I need all the help Catrina can give to untie the knots and open the zipper so she can hide the transmitter inside the dress.
She fastens it with tape and a hook right along the waist seam so it won’t be noticeable through the fabric.
She threads the wire inside the dress, clips the mic to my neckline, then tightens everything again so the dress is back into place, while saying, “When you’re there, just press the little button on the side,” showing me the button, “and the blue light will turn on. When you’re done, press it again, and the light will turn red. ”
“Okay.”
She gives the dress one last tug, and the zipper goes up with a metallic click.
“Blue is recording, red is off,” the wedding planner repeats, turning the light on and off to show me. “That’s it. Simple.”
Simple. Very simple, of course.
“I said: Henry, you’re screwed!” Uncle Henry’s voice echoes through the room, and we both look toward the door.
Red is recording, blue is off. No problem.
“…Because you’ll never be able to say no to this little monster!”
Blue is recording, red is off… oh, wait!
“And to this day…” Uncle Henry continues, but I’m not listening.
Catrina is next to me, repeating instructions, and I’m not listening.
The only thing I hear now is my heartbeat pounding so hard it feels like it might burst my eardrums.
“You switched the seats at our table?” I also hear that.
My heartbeat and Jasper’s raspy voice, saying the words with no emotion, but his eyes locked on mine with the fury of a storm on a dark night.
Or a magnitude-10 earthquake.
“What?” I think I asked, but I’m not sure.
Red is recording, blue is off, I’m sure of it!
“…Even when she was three and decided she liked eating poop, I couldn’t say no…” Uncle Henry continues, with his usual drunken laugh.
Catrina’s eyes widen, surely thinking Uncle Henry’s speech is a way bigger problem than my microphone skills, and she rushes out, slamming the door behind her.
Leaving us alone.
Me and Jasper.
In the deepest silence now that the door is closed.
Blue is recording, red is off.
I press the button.
I’m sure it was the other way around.
Oh, Catrina, if regret could kill, you would never have walked through this door.
“Table seats!” Jasper repeats.
And don’t worry, all the rage he was trying to control in his first question has already started escaping with perfect ease. I open my mouth, but can only stammer an explanation for half a second, and suddenly it is fully out.
“What the hell is going on, Julie?”
Nothing. Nothing is happening. “First that nonsense with Connor last night, now this?”
“This, what?” I don’t even know why I ask. I know what he’s talking about.
I’m just trying to buy time.
Just trying to decide what to say.
After all those things I told him in bed. After Suzi. After all the stupidity with Connor… What the hell can I say in a situation like this? Seriously? Does anyone know?
“You switched the seats at the table!” He exclaims. This time he’s not asking.
“I thought you’d like it!” Shit. Wrong answer. Totally wrong, Julie. “You and Suzi were so close yesterday, maybe you just needed a little push.”
He blinks.
“What?” his voice returns to the usual tone. Calm. Just slightly confused. On the outside.
“She couldn’t stop talking about how kind and attentive you were.”
“She wanted help with her brand registration. We were talking about laws and contracts, I wasn’t…” He stops, as if he doesn’t know what else to say.
Not that it matters much.