Chapter 21 #2
Gia sticks her tongue out at me again. Drunk Gia’s a bit of a bitch. “Who’s ready to watch my single sister mope around and be a huge buzzkill because she dumped her boyfriend of nearly ten years a week before my wedding?”
Cara shoots me an appraising look, probably to see how mad I’ll get if she goes along with this one. “Me!” she shouts again.
I glare at her, and she just looks at me like she’s challenging me to fight or something. Ugh. I never really liked her anyway.
Gia taps her bottle against my full glass and some of my champagne splatters in my lap. She cheersed me so hard I’m surprised the glass didn’t instantly shatter. She proceeds to tilt back her bottle and swallows a giant gulp. “This day is going to be the most fun chaos of my life,” she cries.
The other bridesmaids glance at her uncertainly.
“Driver?” Gia yells. “Please crank the music. It’s time to get this shitshow started.”
The car is alive with Beyoncé, and Gia stands up and opens the sunroof, dancing with her head peeking out.
The last thing I need is for her to get crapped on by a seagull, so I gently pull her hand to get her to sit again, but she twists out of my grip and keeps going with the borderline exotic dancing.
A car full of guys beeps at us and tells her to pull her top down.
Good lord. And the wedding hasn’t even started yet.
When we finally get to the venue, Gia’s polished off the entire bottle of champagne, and she’s definitely taken the fuck it attitude to heart. My pep talk might have backfired.
“Hey, maybe slow down on the drinking . . . ?” I suggest again. “As your sister and your maid of honor, I’m telling you that you need to stop or you will one hundred percent regret it.”
Gia just grins at me. “I feel calm for the first time since Mark proposed,” she says, waving both of her hands around to the classical music like she’s at a Mozart-themed nightclub. “This is my day, baby.”
Gia’s never called me “baby” before. Hopefully the seriousness of the vows will be enough to sober her up . . . because at this rate, the only way this is going to end is with her head in the toilet or fast asleep in the bridal suite.
Why did I think starting Gia on the mimosas was a good idea? Mark might just kill me.
When it’s time for the wedding ceremony to begin, Gia’s at least half in the bag. She’s the loosest I’ve ever seen her, and I used to wish for times like this, but drunk-on-her-wedding-day Gia . . . ? She’s too carefree even for me.
“I can’t wait for this day to be over,” she whisper-hisses at me.
“I just want to hurry up and get to the honeymoon part. The stress-free part no one can ruin, you know? The hot sex part, if you know what I mean. Hubba, hubba.” She widens her eyes at me like some kind of depraved psycho and despite how concerned I am, I laugh.
“You’ve been waiting for this day forever,” I remind her. “You’re going to enjoy it . . . especially if you don’t have another sip until after the meal.”
“You’re not the boss of me,” Gia says in a childish, petulant voice. She takes a glass of champagne off the cart one of the hall attendants pushes by and downs it in a gulp. “Yum,” she says. “I should have taken up drinking sooner.”
Maren approaches from across the room. She eyes Gia and shoots me a knowing look. I shrug and shake my head slowly.
“Hey, you two,” Maren says. “I got sent out to let you know that everyone’s seated and Mark’s ready at the front whenever you are.” She turns to Gia. “You really look beautiful. You have this . . . bright glow to you.”
“That’s the fucking booze,” Gia slurs sweetly.
Maren gives me a look and leans in close to me. “Do you need help?” she whispers.
“I think it’s too late,” I whisper back. “A few bottles too late.”
Maren squeezes my hands comfortingly and shoots me one last concerned look before disappearing back into the ceremony space.
Dad appears behind us, in a dark gray suit with a cream shirt and navy-blue tie. There’s a smile on his face, but I catch an air of nervousness about him, the way he’s shifting from one foot to the other.
He glances at us and then scans the room. “Gia, you look lovely,” he says. “And of course you do, too, Lexi.”
“Thanks,” I say.
“Thank you, Daddy-o.” Gia hiccups loudly and giggles.
I follow Dad’s gaze as it darts around the room. “Is Claire with you?”
Dad’s face flushes. “I’m not sure if she’s going to make it. She wanted to come but I’m not so sure it’s a good idea. It’s . . . complicated.”
“I don’t want to talk about that mumbo jumbo right now,” Gia says, waving a hand dismissively. “No serious talk. Just fun and that’s all.”
“Okay, well, I will say this,” Dad says and rubs the back of his neck. “It wasn’t my idea to invite Claire to this wedding. That was all you two.”
“Fine. We get it.” Gia drapes an arm around him. “We’ll deal with all that later. We’d better get this show on the road. Ready to walk me to my man?”
Dad leans in to take a closer look at Gia, eyes widening slightly. “Are you . . . drunk?” He sniffs her breath. “My god, Gia, you smell like a distillery.”
“Not drunk, just a little tipsy,” Gia corrects, batting her eyelashes at him.
Dad sighs and steps aside. I adjust Gia’s lopsided veil and grab her bouquet from the vase near the doors, which open into the ceremony space. With its pale pink and white roses and peonies, it’s more gorgeous than the trial bouquet. I hand it to Gia. “Isn’t this beautiful?”
“Yup,” Gia answers. “It’s a pretty sexy arrangement.” Instead of holding it with both hands in front of her abdomen like we practiced at the rehearsal, she cradles it in front of her crotch. “Look at me, Lexi. I have flowers growing out of my flower. I’ve got a real out-of-control bush over here.”
I whip around in a panic, scanning for horrified grandmothers. “So inappropriate,” I hiss. “For the love of God, get it together.”
“What’s wrong? Don’t you like my flower?” Gia asks and burps loudly.
I ignore her and adjust her arms until she’s holding the bouquet like a traditional bride.
Mom emerges from the ceremony room in a long emerald-green gown, and she looks like she’s stepped straight out of one of the bridal fashion magazines littering Gia’s living room floor. Mom’s eyes land on Gia and her whole face lights up. “Oh, my baby girl. You look gorgeous.”
Gia’s shoulders go rigid. “Thank you,” she says, each word clipped and polite enough to not be blatantly rude. “I’m ready to go in now.”
“So am I,” Mom replies cheerfully, looping her arm through Gia’s without hesitation, seemingly unfazed by her cool tone.
Dad approaches from the other side. “Hello, Rachel,” he says.
“Hello,” Mom replies, and graces him with a polite smile.
Gia sways as she heads for the ceremony doors, and for a moment it looks like both Mom and Dad, despite how much they may now hate each other, are united in the singular mission of keeping her upright.
Meanwhile, I’m praying to God, and every saint whose name I can recall, that she can keep her shit together.
The violinists in the front right corner kick off Canon in D, setting the mood for serious business.
I join the other bridesmaids up front and glance over the crowd, almost two hundred friends and family, all standing and staring like they’re waiting for Gia to either glide in like graceful royalty or spectacularly trip on her dress.
And it’s really looking like the latter is more likely at the moment.
Gia’s beams as she shuffles down the aisle, her train draped out behind her.
Mark’s face crinkles with emotion and he dabs his eyes with a handkerchief.
Gia’s stumbling as she walks, and my parents seem to be guiding her like she’s a baby who is just learning to take her first steps.
Somehow, they get her to the front. Mom gives Gia a quick hug before heading to sit beside Nicholas, while Dad plants a gentle kiss on Gia’s cheek and then moves over to his seat next to my Aunt Ida.
The door to the ceremony space swings open and in steps Claire, her hair styled in a sleek, classy updo, wearing a flowing teal dress.
Rather than sitting near Dad, where a few seats are open, she makes her way to the empty back row and settles in.
Kind of odd, honestly. Maybe Dad really didn’t want her to come but she insisted on it since I asked her personally.
There’s something really off about the whole thing that has my Spidey sense on high alert.
Gia, who’s now standing opposite Mark, sways slightly without my parents’ support and I swoop in to quickly steady her. “Please hold it together,” I whisper, and she giggles and lets out another quiet burp. Mark raises his eyes in surprise but doesn’t say anything.
“We are gathered here today to celebrate the union of Gia Callen and Mark McAlistar,” the pastor says, and we’re off to the races.
The ceremony continues, and Mark and Gia share sweet personal vows. I breathe a sigh of relief. Maybe the vows were solemn enough to get her to take this seriously.
After the ceremony, we all make our way to another part of the building, which is set up for the reception. It’s a gorgeous space, something I already knew, but with all the decorations up and the lights dimmed and the music playing, it’s really next level.
Next up is food: smoked salmon, baguettes, soup, salad. Many great selections for absorbing excessive alcohol. Things might be smooth sailing from here on out. At least that’s what I tell myself.
Mom and Nicholas have toned down the PDA and now look like a somewhat respectable couple.
On the other side of the room, our relatives and friends keep glancing between them and Claire and Dad, who are sitting together at one of the tables near the wedding party.
Judging by Dad’s frown, it seems like he really wishes she didn’t show up.
Some guests hover nearby with their drinks, wearing polite smiles and clearly wondering who it’s safer to make small talk with.