Epilogue
“Mommy, I think Auntie George is going to die…” Blair, Cleo’s two-year-old, shouts in a whispered tone.
Cleo smiles down at her daughter and pats her head, “Auntie Georgia is a bit nervous, B, that’s all.”
Blair couldn’t care less about the pronunciation of my name. Instead, the small girl turns to me, her blue eyes wide like her father’s. “Auntie George, why do you look like that?”
“Don’t be mean, sissy. She only looks a little sick, but not too sick.” Camden, Blair’s older twin brother, chimes in, pointing at me with orange, sticky Cheetos fingers that I’m pretty sure he got from my daughter.
Sometimes I wonder how the hell I ended up here, and then I remember that my friends are all way too close and now we’re parents.
Four years ago, I was stumbling into this very chapel, drunk out of my mind with a man who became the love of my life.
Now, I’m here again, sober as a doorknob, watching a set of toddlers go back and forth on whether I’ll be dead before I walk down the aisle.
Sienna, to her credit, tries to stifle her laugh before she lets out a cackle. She doubles over in her laughter, her now burgundy hair spilling in front of her face as she tries and fails to compose herself, while her four-month-old, Juniper, stares up at her in bewilderment.
“Har har…” I mimic, scrunching my nose as she sobers up.
“No.” She laughs. “I don’t think you get it. Camden is hilarious, G.” She giggles, and even though it’s Sienna’s birthday, I want nothing more than to give her a wet willy right now.
Looking down at my childhood friend holding her baby, I sigh and take Juniper from her mom.
“You hear that, June-bug? Your momma’s being so mean to Auntie George.” I pout, squeezing her little chubby brown cheeks as she giggles.
We’ve built a little family these last few years, and though some of the gang is here, it sucks that a piece of our pie is missing.
Denver’s off living her dream in California, working with her favorite director on an upcoming project.
It’s been years since all of us girls have been in the same room, though we’ve tried to on multiple occasions.
I miss her, and I miss our group.
Juniper babbles in my arms, her tiny, moist fingers tug and pull on my nose and lips as I stare at myself in the mirror. It’s been four years since Derek and I got married. Four years of joy and love. Four years of being a mom to Delilah while building my clothing brand, Destined.
After graduation, I spent the summer in New York, Monaco, and Paris, working directly with Eden Marlowe on building Destined.
It was the craziest thing that I’ve ever experienced.
We watched Formula One races, met drivers like Ri Ri Highwater and Alejandro Sanchez, sat front row at Paris Fashion Week, and have sold over a million pieces in two years.
About a year and a half ago, Derek opened his first restaurant, Lemon’s, in Baltimore, and it became an instant hit, fusing Mexican American cuisine with a fine-dining experience, known for its lemonade and lemon drops.
Looking in the mirror, I feel my shoulders relaxing. I’m about to walk down the aisle for the second time, and this time—I’ll remember it all. My family is here, and he’ll be there, standing at the front of the aisle, waiting for me.
Sienna takes Juniper from me the second my energy shifts. She gives me a sweet smile and kisses my cheek before patting my shoulder, taking Cleo and the twins out of the room with her.
Delilah was hell-bent on being with the guys today; she’d said it herself that she wanted to be surprised when she saw her mamá walk down the aisle. She hasn’t seen my dress, and I’m happy that I’ve been able to keep it hidden from her for this long.
As I turn around, ready to face the wedding bells, the door to the bridal suite opens and in walks my mother. Her blonde hair is pulled into a French roll with a single strand of hair framing her face, and her pastel green dress hugs her body beautifully.
I design clothes for all walks of life, but in the past year, I’ve put a lot of my focus on bridal wear. Every outfit that’ll be worn in the chapel today is designed by me, including Remy’s, our Elvis officiant. You’d be surprised how long it took me to convince him to let me design his clothes.
“You are absolutely breathtaking, honey.” She frowns; crystal-like tears pool in her eyes as she hugs me. I melt into my mother’s embrace, grounding myself in her presence.
It’s been a few months since I last saw her. She retired last summer and has been traveling with her new boyfriend, Paulo, for the past few months. Hell, I’m surprised she could make it to the wedding with all their traveling.
“Thank you, Mom.” I smile, hugging her again as she sniffles.
When we pull away, she gives me a long, steadying look, allowing a tear to fall. “Georgia, I’m so proud of the woman you’ve become,” she says.
I can’t say anything; my tongue feels heavy, emotion clogging my throat as I look my mother in her eyes. If Sienna could see me now, she’d laugh at the irony of me holding back tears on my wedding day, seeing as I nearly killed her two years ago when she started to cry at her own wedding.
Ironic, really.
Mom pulls me in for yet another hug, and when the door to the suite opens again, I already know who’s walking in.
Lidia gives my mom and me time to be with one another, and when my mom steps away, she sweeps in, pulling me into a tight hug.
“I can’t believe I’m watching the two of you get married. I’m so proud of you,” she says, her voice muffled by my shoulder, but I can hear her clearly.
When she pulls back, she cups my cheek.
“I’m so happy that you didn’t walk away from them. I was nasty to you in the beginning, and it pains me every day to think about how horrible I acted. I love you, mija1. Thank you.”
“I love you too, Mamá.”
Didn’t see that coming, did you?
Lidia has apologized to me multiple times over the years, which is crazy considering our first meeting came from Hell. She and I have a weekly Wednesday brunch and monthly nail dates. It’s safe to say that my mother-in-law loves me and is now one of my best friends.
She walks me out of the bridal suite and into the main lobby, just outside the chapel doors.
Standing here, I try to recollect any of our previous memories from the first wedding and come up short.
It’s safe to say, those lemon drops did a number on me, four years ago.
Lidia gives my cheek a kiss before she steps inside, leaving me alone in front of the chapel doors.
When the familiar cadence of “Three Little Birds” begins to play, a smile breaks out on my face, and the doors swing open.
Derek stands at the front of the aisle in a crisp yellow suit, bawling his eyes out like a baby. Our friends and family sit in the six pews of the chapel, all dressed in a sea of dark and pastel greens, and I feel accomplished knowing I dressed everyone.
A low, familiar gasp from my right causes my smile to grow larger as I take a step in front of my husband, who’s still sobbing like Juniper.
“Mamá…” Delilah whispers, and from the corner of my eye, I can see her begin to cry in her yellow tulle dress, matching the same one that I’m wearing.
I wink at my girl before turning back to her beautiful mess of a father.
Derek frowns as he places a kiss on my temple. “I’m so lucky.” He says, melting my heart into two.
“You better know it.” I chuckle, using that same humor he fell in love with, as Remy clears his throat.
“I am Remy, and I am officiating this wedding… again. Georgia, do you take this man—”
“I do,” I cut him off, my smile brighter than the sun as Remy rolls his eyes, turning to Derek.
“Derek—”
“Always and forever, I do.” My husband cuts Remy off, and I’m starting to feel bad for the old sap, but then again, this isn’t his first rodeo with the two of us.
“Please remember that this marriage is not a subscription that can be cancelled, you two. Remy has blessed you, now ki—”
Derek doesn’t wait.
The second he can, he’s pulling me into him. Our lips connect, and I feel the magic of our union run through my veins as he dips me.
When he pulls me back up, I can’t help the grin that breaks across my face, or the tears that spring into my eyes.
Five years ago, I thought that I was unlovable and traumatized by the stunts that my father pulled in his marriage to my mother. Now, on this day, I’m remarrying the love of my life in Vegas.
“What’s next, Mrs. Perez?” my husband asks, kissing me softly.
“We’re getting us a lemon drop.”
1 Mija - Daughter