Chapter 45
Chapter forty-five
Izzy
You’re doing this for Bryn , I remind myself just as a woman pulls on my hair.
I may have been forced to wake up at six in the morning to put on a dress that is too short and a smile that is slightly forced, but it is to celebrate my baby sister finding the love of her life.
And this new version of Izzy, the one who knows she matters to her family—she’s here for that.
“How would you like your makeup to look?” the woman in front of me asks.
I stare blankly at her, uncomprehending.
“Are you thinking more natural-looking or something bolder?”
“Natural,” I reply, knowing it doesn’t matter what she does—I will be the plainest woman in the wedding party, but honestly, I couldn’t care less. Today is about Bryn and Jameson, not me.
My mind drifts back to Jaxon as the makeup artist starts spraying something on my face. Our conversations have been brief since he left. Him apologizing. Me telling him I understand. A quick phone call Thursday night that was quickly interrupted by Andre needing him to record something.
Despite my realization the other day, I’m still a bit awkward and unsure how to talk to him—something we’ve never had a problem with before.
Luckily, the day goes by in a blur of hairspray and camera flashes, and I have almost no time to think about the fact that Jaxon can’t be there with me tonight.
“Izzy, can you stand on the other side of Kelsey?” the photographer asks as the wedding party stands out on the eighteenth green of the golf course, taking pictures before the ceremony starts at sunset.
Kelsey studies me closely as I slide to stand between her and Lila but doesn’t say anything.
I flash her a smile and then cross my eyes and stick out my tongue at the same time, hoping to convince her I’m fine.
Because I am. I may be uncertain about what will happen with Jaxon and me, but if he chooses not to come back, I can deal with that future.
The photographer takes a few more pictures before studying the images on her camera and wrinkling her nose. “Maybe move to the very end, Izzy. The height difference is making a weird shadow fall across Lila.”
I move to the end, surprised to realize I’m not embarrassed by the fact that I’m the problem in these photos. I’m tall. It’s who I am.
Finally, the group splits up, and the women get in line to enter the ceremony that’s on the lawn outside of the restaurant at Wild Bluffs Country Club—the same patch of grass Bryn and Jameson walked across hundreds of times when they were first dating and Jameo was living in the house on the first hole’s fairway.
The wedding is about to start, but a few last-minute guests are still trickling in.
While Kelsey and I are both maids of honor, she’s the oldest, and technically a matron of honor, so she’s first in line.
Which is for the best. She has actual jobs, like holding Bryn’s flowers during the ceremony and fixing her dress, and I’m just in charge of not crying so hard that my mascara makes me look like a raccoon.
“Are you okay?” Kelsey asks me from her spot in front of me as I tug on the hem of my dress for what has to be the millionth time. I’ll admit I look better than anticipated, but I’m still not comfortable with the length. Someone is getting a view of my shapewear today for sure.
Lucky them, I guess.
“Totally. Just can’t believe Bryn is getting married.”
When I’d told my family about Jaxon having to bail on the wedding last minute, they’d been understanding. And while I didn’t tell them that my heart is in limbo, unable to move forward until I see him back with my own two eyes, they know enough about our past to guess this is hard for me.
But today is not about me.
Kelsey likely knows I’m deflecting, but rather than calling me out on it, she, too, comments on Bryn getting married. “I know. I thought Bryn would swear off men forever after everything with Peter.”
Peter. What a twat waffle. And his mom, one of the few people I know who meet both the millennial and Gen Z definition of a cunt.
“Thank goodness Jameson came along and fell like a ton of bricks,” I joke, and Lila snorts a laugh from her spot behind me.
“Seeing my brother that down bad over someone is a top-tier memory for me,” Lila says.
I laugh, silently sending yet another wish into the ether that Jaxon will come back. But then, I force him from my mind.
I love my sisters more than anything. Sure, we might fight and bicker and disagree more than we agree, but we love each other with a fierceness that can only be born from a lifetime of joy, loyalty, and shared memories. So I’m not going to ruin today by ruminating on the what-ifs of my life.
The music for the ceremony starts, and I follow Kelsey up the aisle of grass strewn with white rose petals, a detail I have to assume Bryn had no knowledge of. It’s beautiful, but Bryn is not an aisle-of-rose-petals kind of lady.
We reach the front, and I try not to notice the loving smiles Kelsey and Lila both send their significant others standing behind Jameson. Instead, I focus on the doors I know Bryn and my dad are about to exit, holding back a sigh as the entire congregation stands as one.
The violinist starts to play as the doors open, and I finally let the tears I’ve been holding in fall.
Bryn looks incredible. Her dress has one of those deep V necklines that would terrify me, but somehow it just works on her—probably because she’s walking like she owns the place.
There’s some sort of sheer material holding it all together so Bryn can dance all night without having to worry about one of her nips popping out, and a floaty tulle skirt that I never would've guessed she'd pick. But the lace and little sparkly gems catch the light like they’re part of the wild prairie backdrop, and yeah… okay. She nailed it.
I turn to watch Jameson’s face as he catches sight of his bride—one of my favorite parts of a wedding that I picked up from some movie or another. His face shifts—jaw slack, eyes soft, like he’s seeing something holy. And maybe he is.
My heart twists, hoping that someday I’ll know what it’s like to be someone’s whole universe—no, not someone’s, Jaxon’s.
The ceremony continues, and I alternate between judging their vows like I’m in Wedding Crashers and secretly wondering if anyone will ever say things like that about me.
I’ve used the tissues I hid in my bouquet so many times they’re now just a squishy mess, and I’m jealous of the box my mom was smart enough to hide under her chair.
She and my grandma have gone through so many of them that it’s starting to look like it snowed under their seats.
As Bryn and Jameson exchange rings, the sun dips behind the horizon, the warm globe framing their heads like the heavens are personally blessing their union.
The soft golden light that follows the fading sun makes everything feel a little more magical, a little less real.
It’s a perfect moment, and no one deserves it more than Bryn and Jameson.
The crowd erupts in applause as the happy couple kisses—finally—and I blink at the sky, trying to hold myself together.
Jaxon will come back. He will.
The ceremony ends, and I walk down the aisle on the arm of Conrad Ferguson, Bryn’s boss and one of Jameson’s long-time friends.
I’m vaguely aware of the people clapping, the drone of the string quartet packing up, the photographers moving around like stealthy little pixies, capturing joy in wide-angle.
But mostly, I’m hyperaware of how viscerally I wish I was about to see Jaxon.
For how much that wedding made me want to be wrapped in one of his cocooning hugs while he kisses my forehead. And maybe tells me he loves me.
Becca shoots me a wink and a double thumbs up as we pass her in the back row.
Conrad trips over something in the grass, and we both almost go down.
Fortunately, I chose the lowest block heels available to me, so I’m able to steady us both.
Maybe those workout classes are doing more for me than I give them credit for.
“You okay?” I ask him as we navigate toward the bar to grab drinks while the happy couple takes pictures in the fading light.
“I…I—do you know that woman back there?” Conrad asks.
“No, giving thumbs up to random strangers is just a Wild Bluffs thing,” I say on a laugh.
Conrad shoots me an exasperated look.
“Of course I know her,” I say with a good-natured eye roll. “She’s my best friend, Becca. We own Flatroads Consulting together.”
I thank the bartender for my “His” cocktail—whiskey neat. Jameson was in an advertisement for the company last year, and they sent bottles as a gift to the bride and groom. It’s a damn nice whiskey, so I’m also considering it a gift to me.
“She’s the most infuriating woman on earth.”
After taking a sip of the drink, I turn my attention back to Conrad. “Why? How do you know Becca?”
“I don’t know her, which is part of the problem.”
I lean back against the bar, content to wait out Conrad’s story as the room around us fills with other wedding guests.
“I may have called her a floozy,” he admits.
The whiskey I was drinking shoots up my nose, burning as it makes its way through my sinuses.
“Why?” I choke out.
“She…well, it was right here, actually.” He taps the bar.
“A couple of summers ago.” He narrows his eyes in concentration.
“I guess that summer, Jameson first came out here to WBCC. Anyway, I happened to be drinking next to her, and well, I’m now beginning to think I may have misread some things, but let’s just say I thought she was flirting with me because she knew I owned the place.
One thing led to another, and I called her a floozy, which, in hindsight, is just a terrible thing to call anyone.
Is she, by any chance, a floozy?” he asks, and I’m pretty sure he’s secretly hoping she is.
“Definitely not.”