Chapter 11
WEDDING BELLS I ACTUALLY REMEMBER
LANEY
Inever really dreamed about my own wedding.
Sure, Megan and I played all sorts of wedding games as little girls.
Dress-up in the backyard, or maybe our Barbies got married.
But Megan had always been a bit more intense about it, and her make-believe hadn’t stopped when we grew out of dolls and costumes.
Her wedding dreams just evolved into scrapbooks and Pinterest pages she’d maintained since middle school.
Maybe that’s why I was so delighted for my friend as I pinned the pearl-embossed veil to the back of her elegant updo.
Today, all of her dreaming was coming to fruition, right down to the off-the shoulder mermaid gown and the antique candelabras decorating the reception tables. I’d never seen Megan look so happy.
Or nervous.
“Everything ready?” she asked for what had to be the tenth time that morning.
I nodded into the full-length mirror in front of us in the bridal suite.
“Darla’s on it. The bridesmaids are in the next room listening to her spiel.
Your mom has been limited to only one glass of champagne since lunch, and your dad has been regaling everyone with baby pictures of you since breakfast.”
Megan and Kevin had chosen one of the most scenic spots in Seattle to be married.
The Admiral’s house was an old naval residence perched on a four-acre corner of Magnolia, a peninsular neighborhood that stuck out onto the Sound and provided a panoramic view of the city, Mt. Rainier, and two mountain ranges.
It was the first time we’d had a moment alone all day.
Between the glam squad hired to make everyone picture-ready, Megan’s mom, grandmothers, and soon-to-be mother-in-law hovering around like hens, and the rest of the bridal party squawking like chickens in their brood, it had been a morning of mostly organized chaos.
Now, the big show was about to begin. The rest of the bridal party was waiting for orders to walk through the lavender-lined path leading to a jasmine-threaded arbor. The sun was shining, the breeze was breezing, and everything was just about perfect.
Or would be perfect if the bride didn’t have a nervous breakdown.
“Sure you don’t want a gummy or something?” I spread the veil over her shoulders. “Maybe just a half?”
“Of course not! I can’t be stoned when I say ‘I do.’”
“Kevin might be. I doubt anyone would blame you.”
Megan’s big brown eyes popped open. “Oh my God, don’t say that. Do you really think he has to get high to marry me?”
Oof. Bad maid of honor.
“Megs.” I sidled in front of her, set my hands on her shoulders, and willed her to look at me instead of the mirror. “Listen.”
She did, though the terror in her expression only dissipated slightly.
“I love you,” I told her. “Your family loves you. Kevin love you. Everyone is here to celebrate you.”
“But—” She sucked in a sharp breath as one of her hands pressed the corseted bodice of her dress. “Oh my God, Laney. I can’t breathe. Crap, is this what you feel like when you—”
“Probably, but that’s not important,” I interrupted. “Do you love Kevin?”
At that, she physically reared. “Oh my God, of course. He’s amazing. How could you even ask?”
I tucked a strand of blond that had come loose back into its pin. “And does Kevin make you feel loved?”
She nodded. “Of course. He worships me. Has since we met in Mr. Fleshman’s bio class and I threw a frog at him.”
I nodded with her. It was true. Kevin had only ever had eyes for her, even when they were kids. “Then you’re good.”
“Okay, yeah. You’re right. I don’t know why I’m freaking out so much. All I have to do is go up there and say a bunch of words and get a kiss. In front of all those people. And change my life forever in an irrevocable way. Oh God, I’m gonna faint.”
“You can walk down that aisle into a full-on typhoon—which is not going to happen, so don’t even start worrying about that—and you’ll still be his wife at the end of it, all right? So, just breathe with me.”
With a smile, Megan followed me through the breathing exercises we’d been doing together since my mom had taught her how to guide me through the same ones in case I had an attack at the park or something. Clearly, she understood the irony that today she was the one who needed them.
“Okay,” she said four rounds later. “I’m good.”
“It’ll all be over in the blink of an eye. Do yourself a favor and stay present. Otherwise, you won’t remember a thing.”
“Like you don’t remember a thing from your wedding?” she teased.
I rolled my eyes. “Brat. You only get a pass because you’re the bride today.”
“Speaking of your ‘husband’, do you know if he came?”
It was the question of the hour. Last night, that had been the plan, of course, and I’d provided Ronan with the information he would need to attend before finally allowing him to drop me off in front of my apartment sometime after one.
Since then, it had been radio silence. And now I was wondering if he would actually show up to play the date he promised.
“Who knows?” I did my best to sound nonchalant, but Megan wasn’t buying it.
“You never did tell me what happened last night.” She batted my hands away from her veil. “Stop. I’m fine. You can distract my nerves with the story you evaded all morning.”
I sighed and briefly considered sitting down before remembering that it would ruin the green satin of the bridesmaid dress. Megan would kill me if it wrinkled before the photos.
“Nothing happened. We just… talked.”
Understatement of the century. How could I explain the monumental sense of connection I’d felt strolling up and down the beach of my youth alongside a man who felt eerily like my future?
It was so simple. Just a walk.
And yet, it felt like so much more.
“Until midnight?”
“One,” I corrected her.
“That explains the dark circles under your eyes.”
“I got a solid seven hours.”
If Megan could have crossed her arms in this dress, she would have. Her expression said it all. “Don’t make me be late to my own wedding, Laney Fisher. I will make Kevin sweat through his tux if that’s what it takes to get the truth.”
“You are the worst, you know that?”
She blew a few strands of hair out of her face. “I own it. Spill.”
“There’s nothing to spill. We went to the beach and walked around. I told him what happened with Derek, and—”
“You told him about Derek? Like, all of it?”
I sighed. I knew what she meant. “Not—no, not about that. I don’t ever want to talk about that again.”
When I’d first told Megan about everything Derek had done when we were together, she had threatened to leave Kevin if he stayed friends with him. I was the one who told her not to rock the boat.
“I did tell him about most of it, though. How he acted when we were dating. A lot of the stuff leading up to when Mom got sick. And then, of course, when he cheated.”
Megan was quiet for a moment. “Wow. That’s not like you.”
She was right. It wasn’t. She’d been telling me for over a year now that I needed to see a therapist if only to deal with everything that had happened. I had just laughed. With what money?
It was easier to keep things bottled up, to read Greek tragedies when I really felt terrible, and remind myself that however sad things were, they could definitely be worse.
After all, a king could have forbidden me to bury my kin and then walled me in a tomb to die when I disobeyed his orders.
Sometimes things were bad, but they weren’t Antigone-bad.
“How did he react?”
I fingered the intricate braid that had been painstakingly arranged over my left shoulder. “Surprisingly sweet. Or at least sympathetic. And loyal. He basically thought Derek was a piece of shit, and that’s when he offered to be my date to the wedding so he could guard me from him.”
It was sweet, in a Ronan sort of way.
Megan was watching me, rubbing her gloss-covered lips together meditatively. “You know, I think he might love you.”
I had to roll my eyes. “You’re in the love zone, lady. You think everyone’s in love right now, but that’s just you and Kev. Ronan and I barely know each other.”
“And yet, he just showed up here looking for you out of nowhere and declared himself your husband in a room full of people.”
“He came to ensure we are getting an annulment. And that was just a joke. He… likes jokes.”
I didn’t know why the last admission cast a pit in my stomach. I liked jokes too. Or at least, I seemed to like Ronan’s. Between Vegas and last night, the man had made me laugh harder than I had in years.
Maybe it was the idea that I was a joke to him that bothered me so much.
Or maybe I didn’t know exactly where the point was where his jokes faded away and seriousness took over.
There was a knock, and the door opened. Darla popped in, one hand on her headset.
“Ladies? Bridal party is walking. We’re ready for you.”
“We’ll follow you down,” I told her.
Darla frowned, clearly unhappy that we weren’t immediately coming, but left us alone.
Out the window, a string quartet was halfway through an arrangement of Clair de Lune—our cue that the wedding march was coming up next.
I turned to Megan and gave her hand a squeeze. “Ready?”
My friend’s eyes shone. “Let’s get me married.”
I carried her train as we made our way to the wedding processional and allowed her dad to take her arm.
The last of the bridesmaids had just started their walk down the lavender-lines path to the ceremonial space.
Derek was waiting for me at the door, looking smug, yes, but also admittedly handsome in his tuxedo.
“Laney,” he murmured as I took his proffered arm as lightly as possible. “You look a dream, squirrel.”
I fought the urge to recoil at the sound of the familiar endearment. Somehow, I had been attracted to that. I’d even considered the possibility that this would be us one day, even if I had turned down his first proposal.
Now, the idea was nauseating.
Apparently, people really can change. I had.
On Darla’s cue, Derek and I started down the path. As we approached the guests, all two hundred of them seated in linen-sheathed chairs adorned with jasmine, I offered polite smiles to those I knew.
“You’re tense,” Derek murmured. “What’s wrong, hubs couldn’t make it?”
I opened my mouth to say that no, my problem was that he had. But before I could, I spotted Ronan seated on the aisle in one of the middle rows, looking gorgeous and rich and impossibly handsome in a charcoal suit that had to be bespoke. “Actually, he’s right there, waiting for me.”
As we passed, Ronan winked and offered a cheeky grin that brought out his dimples. Derek’s arm tensed under my hand, but I didn’t even bother to look at him. I was more focused on trying to calm the blush quickly rising up my neck.
“I still can’t believe you actually married that guy,” Derek muttered. “Have you looked him up? He’s basically a gigolo. Different model every night. TMZ doesn’t lie about shit like that.”
And just like that, the light in my chest shuttered. Before I could come up with even a simple retort, we parted to stand on either side of the arbor.
The first notes of “The Wedding March” sounded, and everyone stood to watch as Megan and her dad exited the house.
Again, I wasn’t particularly sentimental about weddings. But I did catch the look on Kevin’s face when he saw Megan. His mouth fell open, his jaw slackened, and his eyes shone wet with a mix of pride and love that eventually bubbled over into a few tears.
Maybe that was why I couldn’t help crying a little too when my best friend exchanged vows with her beloved. I was thrilled for her, yes. But I also wouldn’t mind a man looking at me like that at least once in my life.
More perturbing was why I couldn’t stop myself from glancing down the aisle to where Ronan sat.
Or why I actually liked the feeling of my heart picking up a few beats when I found him staring at me instead of the bride and groom.
When our eyes met, one side of his mouth lifted into an expression so sweet, so kind, so obviously reserved for me, a part of me wanted to walk back down the aisle myself and claim him in front of all these people.
I wondered if he was remembering bits of our own wedding ceremony that had possibly come back to him.
I wondered if he was still regretting it. Or if he was wondering, like I was, what would happen if we just… stayed married?
No. That was crazy.
And yet, as Kevin tipped Megan backward in a kiss that elicited hoots from all across the lawn, the thought wouldn’t go away.
Nor would the persistent question of what, exactly, I might say at a wedding to Ronan Black if I could do it again… and would actually remember it.