Epilogue
Betsy
May - The Wedding
“What about your something blue?” Nana asks, clearly worried for me. Traditions mean a lot here, and while I may not put much stock in them, I follow along to make Nana happy.
I turn away from the full-length mirror in Mary London’s boutique, which she closed for the day just to accommodate our wedding. We waited until the college was out for summer break. Fewer students means less traffic. The town size gets cut in half when all the students go home.
Lifting my skirt indecently, I bounce my eyebrows. “Got it right here, Nana.”
Nana scoffs, but turns away with a smile on her face when she sees my lacy black panties with a bright blue bow in the center.
Mary London, Palmer, Darby Kate, and Anna Claire whoop their encouragement.
I went traditional with my wedding dress, pure white lace from head to toe, but all my undergarments are dark as midnight.
“I’m goin’ to pretend my brother isn’t the happy recipient of all that gorgeousness,” Mary London says, fussing over my dress to make it hang to the floor perfectly.
Palmer purses her lips and studies me. She looks gorgeous in her lavender bridesmaid dress. She’s lost most of the baby weight, but still has huge boobs thanks to her continued breastfeeding. “You have a glow about you. You sure you ain’t expectin’?”
Nana looks at me sharply from across the room where the wedding coordinator is pinning flowers to her dress. Nothing wrong with her ears, that’s for sure.
“No, I’m not pregnant. Not that I wouldn’t want that.” It still feels weird talking about getting married and having babies. I never thought I’d be in a position to do either. “We plan to start trying sooner rather than later. That’s what happens when you marry someone old.”
Mary London cracks up. So would Silas if he were here. Instead of calling him frat boy, I’ve taken to calling him “my ol’ man.” He doesn’t particularly care for it, which makes it an even better nickname.
“Where’s my daughter?”
We all look toward the door where my mother has graced us with her presence. She got drunk at the rehearsal dinner last night and her current boyfriend had to take her back to their hotel before dessert was served. Other than bloodshot eyes, she looks good this morning.
“Right here, Mom.”
My friends all cluster around me like some kind of bridesmaid fortress. I’m not sure if they even realize they’re doing it, but I love it just the same. They have my back. Even against my own mother if necessary.
She sashays into the room, her mother-of-the-bride satin dress making a swishing noise with each step. “Sure I can’t talk you out of this marriage thing, B? Not too late to make a run for it, you know.”
I put my hands on her shoulders and take a deep breath for patience. She sees the world a certain way because of her beliefs and choices in life. I see it a different way. I see possibility and companionship in a marriage. A beautiful friendship that blossoms into a lifelong partnership.
“I’m so happy to be marrying Silas, Mom, and I hope you can be happy for me. I don’t need you to agree. I just need you to support me in my choice.”
Mom sniffs, her nose lifting in the air, but she gives me a head nod of agreement. “Fine. Do what you want. No judgement here.”
She gives Nana side-eye and I know the “no judgement” comment was a dig at her and their strained relationship. I try not to let it bother me. Mom doesn’t seem to want to change and that’s her right. I can’t make her into someone she isn’t.
“Heavens to Betsy, Chantilly. How ’bout you have your come-apart somewhere else and let the bride be?” Nana’s voice brooks no argument. I hate to see her so worked up. I’m sure it’s not good for her heart at this age.
“How about you and Damon go ahead and get seated,” I suggest, turning Mom toward the door. “It’s about to start and I put you right at the front so you see everything.”
Mom pulls me into a hug, and for a brief second, it feels like she really does want the best for me. Then she releases me, heads for the door with her head held high, snags an open bottle of champagne that was for my bridesmaids, and leaves.
With the threat gone, my friends all spread out and do some last-minute touch-ups of their makeup. Nana comes up to me, a rock-steady firmness in the steadiness of her gaze.
“We can’t choose our family, Betsy Mae, but even if you weren’t my granddaughter, I’d choose you every single day.”
My ribs feel it first, then my throat, and then that warm bubbling feeling hits my eyeballs. “Nana,” I croak. “You’re going to make me ruin my makeup.”
She just smiles up at me, her age-spotted hands patting my waist. “Sometimes you just need to hear the truth, darlin’.”
The wedding coordinator pokes her head back in the door. “Ready, everyone?”
I suck in the deepest breath I can, telling my nerves to cut it out.
There is absolutely nothing to be nervous about except for maybe tripping in these heels.
I kiss Nana on the cheek and thank her for being the best grandmother a girl could ask for.
She stays by my side as each of my friends gives me a hug and walks out the door.
When it’s just us, I settle her hand in the crook of my elbow, grab my bouquet of black and white roses, and head out the door together.
No one I’d rather walk me down the aisle than Nana.
It’s warm out, even midmorning in early May, but the mosquitos thankfully haven’t descended yet and the sun is out, turning all the flowers in the Square vibrant colors. Spring has sprung in the South, making it a perfect time to get married.
Silas is waiting for me in the middle of the pavilion, looking gorgeous in a dark blue suit, brown shoes, and a boutonniere of black roses and white baby’s breath.
I try to take in the moment, memorize the faces of all my friends, family, and townsfolk in the white chairs set up on the lawn, but all I can see is Silas.
The man I get to marry. The man I get to live the rest of my life with. I’m sure there’ll be fights. Guaranteed, actually. I’m not exactly easy to live with, I know. But I trust him to love me through it all. And I trust my love for him will encourage me to try to be a better person.
I make sure Nana gets seated safely by Mom, and then I turn back to Silas.
He comes to the edge of the pavilion to take my hand and walk me to the minister waiting to marry us.
Mary London snatches the bouquet out of my hands, which is great, because I did not remember to hand it to her like we practiced.
“You look stunning, storm cloud,” Silas whispers.
“You look pretty good yourself. Not a frat boy any longer,” I whisper back.
Silas leans in. “I have a polo on under this silly suit. Don’t tell Deuce.”
Laughter explodes out of me and that’s how we begin our wedding ceremony.
When it’s all said and done, Silas wears a black-gold wedding band and I have a band of white and black diamonds to complement my engagement ring.
More importantly, the minister announces us as husband and wife.
Silas grins at me and I grin right back.
I swear my cheek muscles are twitching from smiling so much.
Then he gets a look in his eye and I forget about my aching cheeks.
His hand comes up to cup my jaw and then he’s tilting me over his arm, his lips claiming mine for all of Heaven, Mississippi, to witness.
His kiss is hot and searing, a public claiming I’m all on board with.
When he tilts me upright again and pulls his lips from mine, it’s to give me that smile that melts away everything around me but him.
“Let’s go party with our friends, wife.”
I think that might be my favorite nickname of all.