Chapter 56 Crashing
fifty-six
Crashing
Isneak into the last pew in the chapel and keep my head down.
I’ve never crashed a wedding before. I keep waiting for someone to ask me who I am and what I’m doing here, but so far no one has.
Once I’m sitting down, I scan the benches ahead of me, searching for a familiar face, or at least a familiar back.
I don’t see her.
She must have decided not to come, or maybe she saw me and ran.
Sounds about the way my luck has gone. I get up to leave, but the music starts and I’m trapped.
The tall blond groom takes his place at the front of the room with the minister.
A little girl skips down the aisle, scattering flowers.
A long line of bridesmaids, arm in arm with groomsmen, walk down the aisle.
It looks like this is going to be a long ceremony.
I wonder if I can sneak out as soon as the procession is over.
My breath catches as the last bridesmaid walks through the door. It’s her. I’m immediately jealous of the guy walking her down the aisle. At least she isn’t with him. Stephens is in Korea. His turn to be in a foreign country and my turn to have her to myself.
I wish life were that fair.
I can’t take my eyes off Jess. She’s wearing a dress that’s shiny and clingy and emphasizes her curves.
The neckline reaches her throat and crosses in the back, leaving her shoulders bare.
An oval cut in the back of the dress shows the delicate curve of her lower back—probably the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.
The person beside me taps my shoulder, and I realize everyone is standing. The bride walks in. I don’t recognize her. She’s pretty enough, but completely overshadowed by the bridesmaid at the end of the long line.
I watch Jess the entire time, but she doesn’t look at me once. When the ceremony is over, she keeps her eyes straight ahead as she walks out. I’m not sure if she hasn’t noticed me or if she’s pointedly ignoring me.
I stand around awkwardly during the cocktail hour. Jess and the rest of the wedding party are somewhere taking pictures. A few people try to make small talk with me, asking how I know the bride and groom. I answer truthfully, “I’m a friend of a friend of the bride.”
“You got dragged into the plus-one thing too,” a guy who looks like he’s already a couple of drinks into the open bar says. “Too bad. A couple of those bridesmaids are hot. Hard to hit on someone at a wedding when you’ve got a date, right?”
“Right,” I bristle as I think of him staring at Jess. I grab a drink for myself. I’m going to need the extra courage to get through the part where she sees me. Even if she throws me out, watching her in that dress for the whole ceremony was worth it.
Someone announces the transition to the dinner part of the evening. I follow the crowd, taking another drink with me. As soon as I see the dining room, I know I’m in trouble. There’s a map by the door and little silver frames at each place setting to show who’s supposed to sit there.
“Can I help you find your seat?” The woman standing at the door with a clipboard must be the table guard.
She’s smiling, short with fluffy white hair, but the set of her jaw reminds me of my first drill sergeant.
I scan the map, seriously considering using someone else’s name, whoever they put next to Jess, but I can’t find her card.
Everyone behind me is waiting. My tie feels too tight, and I’m sweating under my suit.
I clear my throat. “I don’t—”
“He’s with me,” her voice comes from behind me. “My plus one.”
I turn to face Jess. She shakes her head, but she looks more amused than annoyed that I’m here.
“And you are?”
“Jess Roberts.” She steps next to me.
The woman consults her notes. “I don’t see that your RSVP came with a plus one.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know he was going to be here until just now.” She gives me a meaningful look before studying the table map. “Can he take Kendra’s place? She wasn’t able to come.”
The table guard looks annoyed at the breach of protocol, but she nods.
“Thank you.” Jess hooks her arm through mine and leads me to one of the head tables. On the way there she whispers, “Are you so desperate for a good meal that you’ve resorted to wedding crashing?”
“Something like that.” We stop at the table, and I pull out her chair so she can sit down. We’re the first ones here, so I ask, “Who’s wedding is this anyway?”
“One of my first college roommates,” Jess says. She nods to the couple walking in as the crowd breaks into thunderous applause. “Nikki.”
“She’s pretty,” I say, but I’m looking at Jess. “And you look amazing.”
“Thanks,” she says. “Nikki was always good at picking out things for me to wear.”
“I’ll have to send her a thank-you note. That dress,” I pause so she can see how much I like it on her. “It's probably the most beautiful bridesmaid’s dress I’ve ever seen.”
“I’ll tell her you said that.” Jess narrows her eyes at me, but she seems more curious than hostile. “Why are you really here? How did you even know about this wedding or that I was home?”
“I ran into Taryn and your current roommate yesterday. She told me you’d be here.”
“Angelica,” Jess rolls her eyes. “She can’t seem to stop analyzing me, telling me what’s good for me, getting into my business.”
“She seemed nice and genuinely concerned about you.” I’m not sure why I’m defending the little redhead, except she made it possible for me to see Jess.
“I think I’m her senior project,” Jess replies.
I look at her gently, afraid to upset the delicate balance we’ve started here. “Maybe it’s working. You look better.”
“I feel better. "She got me into yoga and meditation." She looks down. "And counseling."
I put my hand over hers. "There's nothing wrong with that. I've been going to counseling since I got home from Iraq."
"So, you'll come to yoga class with me? I'm getting certified to teach."
I imagine her balancing in an impossible pose, wearing yoga pants and some kind of cropped top. "Name the time and place."
She laughs. "Good to see you have an open mind about these things." She takes a long drink of ice water and then gets serious. “How are you doing?”
“Better now.” It’s the truth. I’m much better now that I’m sitting next to her.
She looks at me for a few seconds. “You look good. No dress uniform?”
“I didn’t want to stand out,” I answer.
She doesn’t respond to that. Other people join us at the table, and the buffet opens.
We get food, and Jess chats with the people at our table.
From what I can tell, she knows some of them from college.
I talk too, but more than anything I watch her.
She laughs more easily, but there’s still something reserved about her.
She’s quieter and somehow more delicate.
We sit through the toasts and the couple’s first dance. Then the dance floor opens up to everyone. My chance to get Jess alone again. My chance to hold her in my arms.
I feel like I’m in middle school again, asking a girl to dance for the first time. My heart pounds so loud that I’m sure she can hear it, but somehow I get the words out, “Would you like to dance?”
She hesitates for a minute and then nods.
I don’t think we’ve ever danced before, but it feels natural to lead her onto the dance floor.
I want to wrap my arms around her and pull her hard against my chest. Instead, I take her right hand.
She puts her hand on my shoulder. There’s only one place to put my other hand.
I touch the curve of her back, hesitant at first, expecting her to pull away.
She steps closer, leaning in. My hand rests on her soft skin.
I can feel the curve of her spine, the muscles in her back, the muscles at the side of her waist. She feels smaller, slimmer than I remember.
I pull her closer, wanting to protect her.
She turns her head, and light dances from her ears. I recognize the earrings I gave her for Christmas when I was in Iraq.
“These are beautiful.” I tuck a piece of hair back behind her ear.
She blushes and touches the earrings. “I’m sorry. You can have them back. I always meant to return them.”
“Please don’t. I like them where they are.” I run my fingers down her arm and put that hand beside my other hand, on her bare back. She has nothing to do with the hand I was holding but set it on my other shoulder. Easier to get close. I take a chance and step in. She doesn’t pull away.
I lean my cheek against her head, close my eyes and drink in the scent of her hair and the smell of her skin.
I can imagine that we’re back together. That I came home to a much warmer welcome.
That I bought a diamond for her finger instead of for her ears.
This could be our wedding. When this is over, I’ll take her away to some beautiful place. She’ll be mine.
“…North Carolina?” she says. For one horrible second, I think she can read my mind, or that I accidentally said something out loud.
I look down at her. “What did you say?” She’s looking up at me through her eyelashes. That used to, correction, still does, make me crazy.
“Are you going home for Christmas?”
“No. My parents are going to Mexico. I'm going to hang out with Becky and Bryan.” No reason to tell her that after the disaster that was last Christmas, none of us wanted to do the traditional family thing again.
"That sounds fun. I miss having little kids around for Christmas," she says.
I want to ask her what she's doing for Christmas, if she'll be home, if she'd mind if I stopped by. I'm afraid to. It would be just like Stephens to fly her to Korea to spend Christmas with him. The song is ending. I can’t let her go. “One more?” Please.
“Okay.”
Is it my imagination or is she pulling herself tighter against my chest?
“Mom told me you’ve been helping Tyler. How’s the car coming?”
“I haven't been over for a while. Tyler won’t be driving again for a long time.”