Chapter 13 #2
“Without a second thought,” she admitted, with zero remorse. “But she does want you here. Wants you to be a part of her and Mercer’s big day. And I’m glad for it. Because I know you’ll do a good job.”
“How do you know?” I asked, my voice hushed.
Maybe Joan heard the quiet desperation in my tone because her face gentled, her sharp gaze going soft as she really looked at me.
“Because you care. It’s not just reading words off a page for them, and you know that.
” She paused. “Plus, you’re the most charming motherfucker I’ve ever met, and I’ll deny ever saying that. ”
My laughter was loud in the narrow hallway. “Thanks, Joanie.”
She nodded once, still smiling. “Now go eat the pizza that you wrestled away from those maniacs. We’ve worked hard on your stamina, but I don’t want you passing out at the altar from low blood sugar.”
Shaking my head, I pushed off the wall, reaching for the doorknob, but her small fist entered my field of vision.
“You’ve got this,” she said.
Feeling buoyed by her faith, I tapped my fist to hers. “See you out there.”
Candace and Mercer had planned the ceremony to be short and sweet. There were no songs to be sung or readings from anyone’s cousin. They weren’t lighting a unity candle or pouring symbolic sand into a symbolic vase.
They’d wanted something simple to reflect their love. And I could appreciate that. But I had something I wanted to say.
“I always thought loving someone would be big and loud and chaotic,” I admitted, looking between Candace and Mercer, where they held hands before me.
There were about seventy-five people seated in rows on the mezzanine of the train station.
It was quiet and intimate up here, overlooking the large ballroom where the reception would take place below.
The warm glow of electric candles flickered all around, painting the couple in golden hues of happiness.
“I’ve never been able to see a way around it,” I explained.
“Two people with two lives, two families, and two personalities—how could love not be a cataclysmic collision?
There would be dreams to whittle down to make room.
Downsizing for necessities and minimizing for efficiency.
Somehow, to me, love had always meant two becoming one, but only after cutting yourself in half to balance the scales.
“But for Candace and Mercer, that’s not how love works.
It’s opening a door and creating space—a safe space for love to grow and bloom, to change.
It’s seeing a need and fulfilling it without even being asked.
It’s not making yourself smaller to fit in the shadow of someone else, but rather, stepping into the light to join them.
“I’ve seen the quiet sort of love and devotion that Candace and Mercer share.
I’ve seen the acceptance of a family, welcoming a son.
I’ve witnessed two personalities that complement one another.
Teammates, not competitors. Instead of their love being a clash of waves against the shore, it’s a meeting of currents.
Shifting and adjusting to create a new path together. ”
Tears shimmered in Candace’s eyes as she and Mercer gazed at one another. I could hear a few sniffles on either side of the bride and groom, but I made myself focus solely on the couple before me, despite the urge to steal a glance at the maid of honor.
“Some of you may not know this,” I said, “but I tell stories for a living.”
That earned a few chuckles from the crowd.
“But I don’t know a writer or a director who could dream up a love like this. One where belonging is found in the mountains, on an apple orchard, with one another. Maybe love isn’t a feeling. Maybe it’s discovering a home in someone else.”
Smiling, I finally said, “Mark Mercer, do you take Candace Judd to be . . .”
The rest of the vows—the ones we’d discussed and practiced—went smoothly. There were some awws from the crowd when Mercer got a little choked up. And then laughter when Brady passed him a tissue before using one to blow his own nose.
I watched the happy couple. Got to see the joy and reverence on their faces as they promised to love and encourage and fight for one another. And Joan was right. It was more than words on a page. And I felt honored to be a small part of it.
After announcing Candace and Mercer partners in life, everyone clapped, and the recessional music began.
Red-eyed and smiling, Brady hugged me hard on his way to collect Joan. I laughed into his shoulder. Joan bumped my fist one more time and then walked back up the aisle with her brother.
I smiled, watching Joan march off with determined, efficient strides, practically dragging Brady between the rows of onlookers. Her floor-length gown shifted with each determined step, the satiny fabric flowing over every graceful line of her body.
I took an unsteady inhale, noting the back of the dress.
It draped very low, revealing most of Joan’s shoulders and back and stealing more of my breath.
The deep, jewel-toned color combined with the warm candlelight on the mezzanine made her smooth skin glow golden and lovely.
She looked so beautiful, and I ached to touch her.
Bonnie and Wenn came together before me, thankfully distracting me from staring after the maid of honor like a lovesick fool. Then I held out my arm and escorted a grinning Mac as we followed the others up the aisle.
When we got to the room where the wedding party would hang out until they were announced for the reception, Candace immediately threw her arms around me.
“I didn’t know you were going to say all that,” she cried. “Ian, thank you so much. That was the sweetest, most thoughtful speech. It was perfect.”
I patted her back gently, careful not to dislodge her veil or mess up her hair. “Thank you for letting me be a part of it.”
Mercer shook my hand. “Thank you, Ian.”
I nodded. “Congratulations to you both.”
The bride and groom stepped away as Nick and Amy arrived. The parents were obviously overjoyed, grinning ear to ear.
Joan slid next to me as we watched everyone hug and chat.
“So, how’d I do, Coach?” I asked quietly.
When she didn’t answer, I grew concerned. Had I overstepped by adding my own words to the ceremony?
I knew it. I should have just stuck to the script we’d arranged. Why had I decided to—
“I think,” Joan said, and her voice caught.
Dumbstruck, I glanced over, took in her shining eyes and trembling chin.
“I think you nailed it,” she finally managed. Then she slipped her arms around my waist and hugged me. “Thank you for making them happy,” she said.
Her breath was warm against my neck, and I relished the closeness, the honesty of her words pressed into my skin.
Strong hands held me tightly. I let myself lean into the embrace, relief and comfort and so much damn affection for this woman making me unsteady. She felt so good in my arms, like she belonged there, like we fit.
I knew now that I’d come on too strong in the beginning. I’d caused her to question and doubt.
So I’d forced myself to be patient, determined to give her time.
No part of me wanted to scare Joan off. I wanted her to see that I wasn’t the spoiled, incapable celebrity she thought I was.
I’d let her get accustomed to having me in her life.
To me, earning a spot there was more important than forcing my way in anyway.
But I didn’t know how much longer I could wait. Every moment I didn’t have my hands on her felt like wasted time.
“Save me a dance,” I whispered, letting my lips graze the shell of her ear. Letting her see. Letting her feel.
Joan shivered against me before nodding.
The event coordinator called everyone together as guests were seated in the reception area, and music began playing.
Joan and I stepped away from one another. But with any luck, this wouldn’t be the last time she was in my arms tonight.
Joan
I’d already decided that I liked Corie, the photographer. She and Larry were good together and seemed to make each other happy. Plus, every time I saw the woman, she asked me how my apples were doing. That was a good way to endear oneself to a farmer.
My opinion only warmed as we finished up the wedding photos in under twenty minutes. Corie was frighteningly efficient and knowledgeable. And she’d stolen a tray of appetizers for the wedding party while we waited for her to change cameras and set up the lighting.
For as long as the day had seemed, between manicures and hair and makeup appointments, everything sped up once Candace walked down the aisle. Much of the evening went by in a blur of hugs and camera flashes, followed by a pasta buffet and cake cutting.
The wedding had been small and intimate. The reception was loud and joyful. And my sweet sister couldn’t stop smiling.
But time started to slow down again once the wine was flowing, the dance floor filling up.
I’d done all the maid-of-honor tasks I could think of.
I’d loaded all the wedding gifts into Mercer’s truck.
I’d gathered our things from the bridal suite, and I’d made sure my sister and her new husband had taken time to eat.
There was nothing left for me to do. When I saw Ian laughing with the deejay like they were best friends, I knew I’d avoided him long enough.
Ian caught my eye and grinned.
A moment later, he made his way to me, stopping three different times to take selfies with guests, plus sign a cocktail napkin for my great-aunt.
“You are a hard woman to track down,” Ian said when he reached me. “And your aunt Linda would have made it to second base if your mother hadn’t stepped in.”
“Jesus,” I muttered. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. I’m used to it.”
I stared at him before lowering my voice angrily. “You shouldn’t have to get used to people touching you without your consent, Ian.”
“I know. You’re right. I’m sorry.”
“Why are you apologizing to me? You’re the one getting manhandled.”