7. Marley
7
MARLEY
“ M arley, can you help me with this?” Josie calls from the dressing room.
“Coming,” I call. My marigold yellow-colored dress swishes at my ankles as I make my way over to her. I knock on the wooden door once, then let myself into the small room. Josie’s facing the mirror, hands on her hips as she stares at her reflection. She’s wearing a lacy, low-cut white bra that makes her tits look fabulous. I helped her pick out her undergarments about a month ago, and we did a mini boudoir shoot in them. I’ve printed off the photos for her in a book that is currently en route to Andrew at this very moment.
“You look incredible,” I say. Her cheeks flush, freckles popping with the color.
“Thanks,” she replies. “I can’t get this to feel right.” She points to the back of her bra, and I immediately see the issue.
“Oh, you’re all twisted.” I slide my finger under the hem, unhooking the clasp and righting it. Once she’s all put back together, I rest my hands on her shoulders. “Feeling ready?” I ask.
Josie nods enthusiastically. She spins to face me. Tears well in her eyes and I point a finger at her. “Nope, no tears. Not today,” I say.
“But I’m happy,” she blubbers. “These are happy tears.”
I wrap my best friend into a tight hug, holding her close. I pull away, grabbing a few tissues from the side table and blotting under her eyes softly. “There, still perfect,” I say.
She smiles before her expression grows more serious. “I’m going to ask you this, because I knew something was not right when you walked into that room last night. What happened?”
Nope. I will not get all weepy and act like a tween who just got her heart ripped out of her chest today. “Nothing,” I try to say, but Josie narrows her eyes, her brows raising. She’s calling my bluff.
Stepping back, I slump into the soft couch. “You aren’t going to let me get off that easy, are you?”
“Nope,” she says, popping the p. “I know Beau stayed back to help you get things organized, and I also know that he was glued to your side all night and was giving you moon eyes.”
I clasp my arm, brushing the slightly raised skin of my “Dead Sea” tattoo. “Fine. But I’m okay now, and this day is not about me, so I will tell you, and then we drop it, ‘kay?”
Josie nods. She sits down onto the couch next to me. “I… I think he was going to kiss me last night.”
Her eyes widen, mouth gaping open, but she doesn’t speak.
“I stopped him before he did, but… yeah. Oh, and he doesn’t have a girlfriend, and hasn’t for six months.” I take a deep breath. “That’s all I’m going to say. When you get back from your honeymoon, we can analyze it, and every word and touch.”
I can tell she’s about to burst, trying to hold in whatever emotion is bubbling to the surface. “Can I ask one teensy tiny question?”
“Fine, but consider it a second wedding gift,” I tease, shoving her shoulder gently.
“Why didn’t he tell anyone he wasn’t dating her? He made it seem like they’d been together this whole time.” Josie’s voice drops low, tone confused.
“I really don’t know. I keep asking myself that same question.” I shift my attention back to her. This is her day. “Enough about me.” I stand up from the couch, feeling like a slight weight has been taken off my chest with just a short conversation. “Ready to get into your dress?”
I gesture to the dress bag hanging from the wall, and Josie blushes a deep pink. “Yeah. Can you get the photographer, and my mom and sister?”
“You got it,” I say. I slide out of the room, heading back to the small sitting room where everyone else is. Megan sits at the small table, coloring with Lennie, while my mom fusses over a piece of Nikki’s hair. Lori and Jess sit on the couch, Lori’s hand on Jess’s belly, feeling the baby kick.
The wedding planner, Fallon, knocks on the door right as I’m about to grab Lori and Jess. She glides in, the picture of effortless beauty. Her blonde hair hangs in long waves down her back, half of it pulled up off her face. She wears a deep maroon top tucked into a pair of high-waisted dress pants that cuff at the ankle, showing off her shiny black heels. She has thick curves accentuated with the top that fits her perfectly.
Behind her is her daughter, Presley. She’s about six if I remember correctly. Her sandy blonde hair is in one long braid down her back, and she wears a sage green cotton dress that buttons down the front and has pockets on the side.
“How’s the bridal party?” Fallon asks.
I offer a quick thumbs up. “Great. I was just grabbing the mother of the bride and sister. She’s ready to put on her dress.”
“Perfect, we are right on time then!” Fallon pushes a hair that has fallen in her face off and looks back at Presley. “Sweetie, do you want to ask Lennie?”
Lennie perks up at the mention of her name, kicking her feet under the table. “Hi, Presley,” she calls. One thing about Lennie is that she will always make a friend wherever she goes. Probably something she gets from Jason. While a bit of a grump, he’s always known how to talk to people. Fitting for a brewery owner to be good with people.
“Lennie, I brought a coloring page for you,” Presley says, her small voice gaining confidence with each word. “Do you want it? It has a princess with pretty flowers on her dress, and a frog that she has to kiss.” Her mouth forms a grimace as she mentions the frog.
“Can you color it with me?” Lennie asks. She glances around the room until she meets Nikki’s eyes, searching for her approval.
Nikki smiles. “If it’s okay with Presley’s mom, then it’s just fine with me.”
Fallon looks down at Presley and grins, giving her the go ahead. Presley rushes over to the table and Megan stands, moving out of the way to give Presley her seat. She steps over to Fallon and hugs her tightly.
Fallon and Megan are friends from college. Fallon was the maid of honor in Megan’s wedding where Josie and Andrew met. It’s weird how small of a world it is.
I guess she moved here shortly after her ex-husband up and left without a trace. It’s like he vanished out of thin air, only sending her signed divorce papers with no return address, but rather a note to drop off at a specific lawyer’s office.
As far as I know, she hasn’t heard from him since. She was living with her mom for a while, but was able to move out when she got the job as the wedding and event planner for Meadow Grove Winery.
Lennie shrieks with delight as she sees the coloring sheet, her cheeks turning a rosy hue. I notice Fallon and Megan talking in hushed tones. Fallon’s brows are pinched together like she’s distressed. I don’t want to pry, but I also don’t want anything to go wrong today. I gesture for Lori and Jess to head to the dressing room while I step over to Fallon and Megan.
“Hey, everything okay?” I ask.
Fallon sniffs, turning her face away from Presley’s point of view. “Oh yeah, just… life. I know it’s so unprofessional to bring Presley with me, but my mom has a stomach bug, and my backup babysitter has a volleyball tournament. And… well, anyone else I feel comfortable leaving her with is here. So, I’m low on options. Isaac is probably going to fire me for being so unprofessional,” she babbles, her pitch growing higher with each word.
I reach out, clasping her arm. “You have nothing to worry about. We get it. And you know Josie and Andrew won’t mind. And, if Isaac fires you, I'm pretty sure this one,” I jerk a thumb in Megan’s direction, “will divorce him.”
Megan laughs. “She’s right, you know.”
Fallon solemnly nods, then stands up a little straighter, taking a deep breath. “Alright, no more of that. I’ve got shit to do. Can I leave her with you for a bit? Or… ” she drags, furrowing her brow as she thinks.
“Leave her,” I say. “She’s got plenty of people to look out for her. We’ll bring her along to photos and the first look. You’ll just have to grab her before the ceremony. Right?” I say, looking at Megan. Fallon probably won’t feel convinced unless her best friend says so.
“Right. We’ve got her,” she agrees.
Fallon gives us a more determined nod. “I’ve got my cell, so just call me, but… shit, I have to go. The cake people are here.” She calls out a goodbye to Presley, and she’s gone with a gust of air and sweet smelling perfume. She definitely is good at compartmentalizing if she needs to, it seems, and puts on a killer brave face.
There’s a creak, and the door to the dressing room opens, Josie’s head peeking out. “Get in here,” she whispers.
I turn around because she's probably looking for Nikki. I’m about to call her over when Josie raises her voice. “No, dingbat, you ! Get your sexy ass in here!”
I glide over, and she yanks me by the hand, pulling me into the room. Marissa, the photographer, stands in the corner, already snapping pictures. Marissa used to work with me at Chrysalis Photography before branching off and starting her own studio just over a year ago. When Josie asked me to be in the wedding, she asked me for a recommendation since I wouldn’t be able to do photos and also be her maid of honor. Marissa was an easy recommendation.
Lori looks gorgeous in a navy blue floor-length gown, her slightly graying hair curled and pinned loosely at the nape of her neck. Her makeup is tastefully done. She’s pulling Josie’s gorgeous dress out of the bag.
Jess helps, making sure the dress doesn’t snag on any zippers. Her deep emerald colored dress accentuates her bump and contrasts with her strawberry blonde hair. Her hair isn’t nearly as red as Josie’s but it still has a soft red hue to it.
Josie releases my hand to step into her dress. I subconsciously reach up to my right bicep, trailing my fingers over my tattoo yet again. Goosebumps flare over my skin at the touch, the same thing that happens every time I touch it.
The dress fits Josie like a glove. A wide, over-the-shoulder neckline, with delicate lace across the bust in a criss-cross. The fabric hugs tight to her thick curves until it flares at the waist, trailing with lace flowers scattered to the floor.
Lori zips the dress and takes a step back, covering her mouth with her hand as her eyes shine with tears. Jess smiles softly, her eyes sliding up and down Josie’s body in awe.
“Don’t cry, please,” Josie begs, her own eyes filling with tears.
“I’m not,” Lori blubbers, turning her head down and patting at her eyes with a tissue.
Marissa snaps photos in the background as I adjust the layers of Josie’s dress so it lays perfectly. When I rise, Josie throws her arms around me in a tight hug. “Thank you,” she murmurs, words thick with conviction.
I nod, my throat tightening. I never would have guessed that by setting her up on a blind date with Andrew I’d gain a lifelong friend, but I’m so thankful that I did.
With a few finishing touches to her makeup and hair, we head back into the sitting room to wait the few minutes before taking pictures. Initially, Josie wanted to do the first look in the more traditional way — when she walked down the aisle — but I came up with the idea to do something similar to their first official date.
The blind date photoshoot.
Andrew will be blindfolded. Josie won’t, as we don’t want to mess up her hair and makeup, but she's promised to keep her eyes closed.
I lift the train of Josie’s dress as we walk onto the dirt path. Josie’s eyes are pinched shut, and thankfully, Andrew stands only five or six paces off the path. Both of their families, as well as the rest of the bridal party, are scattered in a half circle behind Marissa. I don’t take the time to see the specific people, my focus on Josie. I adjust her positioning, feeling a warm sense of deja vu as I turn her so her back is pressed against Andrew’s, watching as their hands find each other.
Andrew starts bouncing on the balls of his feet and I chuckle under my breath, pressing down on his shoulder to stop his movements. He did the exact same thing during the first photo shoot I arranged for them. I turn around and offer Marissa a thumbs up. She nods gratefully and I skurry off to the side where Megan stands.
We count down from three, and the pair turn around. Josie’s eyes open. Andrew yanks off the blindfold from his face. His brown eyes comically widen as he takes in his bride-to-be.
Of course, as a florist herself, Josie insisted on creating her own bouquet and Andrew’s boutonniere, but left everything else up to her trusted assistant, Kenzy. She’s done an amazing job with the flowers and the glimpse of the arch I got as I walked around the reception and ceremony area earlier.
My gaze strays from their initial reactions, catching Beau’s attention from across the circle. His shoulder length dark curls are neatly pulled back into his signature man bun. The groomsmen all wear khaki pants, crisp white button down shirts, and terracotta-orange ties to match the flowers. Beau’s brown eyes hold mine, never wavering until I turn away first.
I do what I do best for the rest of the photos — ignore Beau. I’ve ignored the pull I automatically feel when I’m around him for years, so what’s another day to add to the list?