Chapter 14 #2
While the driver helps me climb out of the limo, Dex collects a set of portable speakers, then he pulls a tripod from the back.
“I think Sayla can just hold her phone,” I tell him, a bit breathless.
“Nope. Not for the ceremony,” he says. “The matron of honor needs her hands free.”
Sayla produces two bouquets of pink peonies and passes one to me. Then she smiles.
Yep. I am definitely breathless.
As the two of them arrange their equipment, I wait at the end of the runner, fidgeting. Alone. I shift my weight, fluff my skirts, fiddle with my flowers. Then something sharp pokes at my ribs. Not an actual pin prick. A feeling.
My dad’s not here to walk me down the aisle.
Oh.
I press a hand to my heart.
It’s what we’d planned, of course. Bridger and I decided this was for the best. Still, as I wait for our friends to join him under the archway, I just want to be down there already, with them.
With Bridger.
Not by myself anymore.
Dex fiddles with his phone, scrolling through the playlist he prepped.
I have no idea what to expect. With Dex in charge, the music could be anything from Mendelssohn’s “Wedding March” to “SexyBack” by Justin Timberlake.
But soon the instrumental arrangement of Taylor Swift’s “Wildest Dreams” drifts toward me.
The version from the first season of Bridgerton.
I should’ve known.
Dex has three sisters, a wife, and a mother who are all obsessed with the show. And when Bridger first got hired at Stony Peak, Dex called him Bridgerton relentlessly, until Sayla and I begged him to stop.
Bridger himself didn’t seem to mind, unflappable as he is. And standing at the end of the aisle now, he’s got that same steady confidence on display. Same square jaw, too. Same broad shoulders. Same swoop of dark hair. Same piercing eyes. Honestly, the Duke of Hastings has nothing on my—
“Loren!” Sayla calls out.
I inhale a wobbly breath. “Yes?”
“I’m gonna set the video timer for five seconds, so count backward, then walk toward me slowly. I mean, walk toward Bridger.”
“Okay!” I flash her a thumbs-up, despite the throbbing in my ears. She moves to the tripod, presses record, then quickly returns to her spot.
Go time.
As I make my way down the aisle, my heart’s pounding so hard, I focus only on the runner, just trying not to face-plant. I’m almost at the end before I lift my gaze and find Bridger waiting for me, patient and steady.
A tightness loosens in my chest, and he extends a hand, like he knows I’ll need him for balance. If I can just make it to him without falling, everything will be all right.
He’ll make sure of that.
He takes a step forward, reaching for me, and I grab on to him like he’s a life preserver. He gives my fingers a squeeze, but immediately turns toward the officiant. No eyes locking. No private smile.
Right. Because we’re pretending.
Don’t forget that, Loren.
“Welcome, friends,” the lady in the pantsuit begins.
Friends. Hmm.
Did she use that word on purpose? I shoot a glance at Bridger, wondering how much he told her about our situation, but he’s looking directly at Pantsuit Lady. His jaw shifts, and he offers her a tight nod. She nods back, then aims a quick smile at Sayla’s phone.
“My name is Susan,” she continues. “And we’re gathered here today to join this man and this woman in … matrimony.”
Okay, so Susan Pantsuit must know something. She called us friends, and she left out the word holy. Hopefully, she’ll keep this ceremony as real as possible without forcing us to promise anything we don’t mean.
“Marriage is not an institution to be entered into lightly,” she goes on. “But rather a decision undertaken wisely. Soberly. And with good intentions only. That’s something we all can agree on, isn't it?”
Her gaze sweeps between the four of us, like she expects an actual answer.
Dex is the first to chime in. “Hear, hear!”
“Of course,” Sayla agrees, darting her eyes to me. “Good intentions.”
“Yes?” I squeak, more like a question. But I’d be lying if I claimed I wasn’t at least a little unsure of what we’re doing.
“Absolutely,” Bridger says. His voice is deep and strong. So certain, I almost believe him.
“You may face each other,” Susan Pantsuit instructs. “And join hands.”
We do as she says, but I train my eyes on a spot above his brow. Meeting his gaze feels a bit dangerous right now. Talking to his forehead is definitely safer.
“Bridger Jefferson Adams,” she says. “Is it your intention today to make Loren Elise Cane your lawfully wedded wife?”
Lawful. Exactly. Way to go, Susan Pantsuit.
He takes a beat. Then he says, “Yes.”
“And will you stand by her side in times of scarcity and plenty? Enduring moments of weakness and strength? Remaining steadfast through seasons of sunshine and rain?”
She pauses to read her notes, and I swallow. These vows are a mouthful. But at least they’re all things I can honestly say I’d do for and with Bridger.
“And will you, Bridger, promise to comfort and keep Loren from this day forward, until you draw your last breath?”
My heart skips a beat.
Just yesterday, I told Bridger I’d step aside when he met someone he truly wanted to marry. So I’m not sure he came here prepared to make a lifetime commitment to me.
Still, he clears his throat and says, “I will.”
“Yeah, he will,” Dex cheers.
Susan Pantsuit ignores the interruption and shifts her attention from Bridger to me.
“Loren Elise Cane.”
“That’s me,” I say, on a nervous chuckle.
“Is it your intention today to make Bridger Jefferson Adams your lawfully wedded husband?”
“It is,” I say. Lawfully. Yes.
“Will you stand by his side in times of scarcity and plenty, enduring moments of weakness and strength, remaining steadfast through seasons of sunshine and rain? And will you, Loren, promise to comfort and keep Bridger from this day forward, until you draw your last breath?”
Yep. Still a mouthful.
Still promising my last breath.
But the truth is, I’m not planning to marry anyone else anyway. Not in this lifetime. And honestly, that choice won’t ever change for me. So yes, I can commit these things to Bridger for as long as we both shall live. No other man will come between us.
My eyes slip down and snag on his. “I will,” I say.
Susan Pantsuit says, “Rings?” and I startle. I’d almost forgotten the part where we exchange rings. Just a couple of outward symbols broadcasting our marriage to the rest of the world.
No big deal.
Dex produces two plain platinum bands from his pocket. The lack of bling shouldn’t surprise me. Bridger’s not a flashy guy. But I kind of assumed Margaret Adams would expect a four-carat rock.
Susan Pantsuit takes the rings and talks for a while about the circle representing a never-ending symbol of eternity. Then Bridger goes first. She has him repeat some vows with thee and thy in them, then he slips the ring on my finger. Across the band, engraved in cursive, are the letters LCA.
“Wearing simple rings for the first year of marriage is a family tradition,” he says.
“A chance to prove to the world—and to each other—that we’re united for real.
Later, we can add a diamond to yours if you want.
But the bands just have our initials for now.
” His eyes search mine. “I hope that’s all right with you. ”
I bob my head. “More than all right.”
I’m not a fancy jewelry kind of woman in the first place, and we probably won’t be wearing our rings unless we’re specifically taking pictures or videos for his mom.
Either way, I’m actually relieved that Bridger didn’t spend too much on a big diamond.
That kind of money can be put to much better use.
And a year from now, we may not even need these rings anymore.
“Your turn, Loren,” Susan says. She repeats the whole process with me, and I slide Bridger’s band on his ring finger. I’m his wife now.
Mrs. Loren Cane Adams.
For another minute or two, Susan Pantsuit talks about marriage being hard work. She says, in the future, we’ll need the support of our friends and family. Then she asks Sayla and Dex if they promise to support us on our nuptial journey, which is pretty sweet, actually.
They both agree, of course. Sayla’s eyes are even a little wet. She’s probably thinking about how much she loves Dex, and how important Bridger and I have been to their relationship.
How much the four of us mean to each other.
But I hardly need another reminder not to ruin the friendship.
Not just for my sake, but for all of us.
When Susan is ready to wrap things up, she pauses to beam at our little group. “And now, by the power vested in me by the state of North Carolina”—I hold my breath, this is it, no backing out now—“I declare that you two good people belong to each other. From now until forever.”
Forever.
My stomach seesaws.
“Bridger Adams?” She tips her head. “You may now kiss the—”
“BEE!” Sayla shrieks, stumbling backward and knocking over the tripod.