4. The Rehearsal
THE REHEARSAL
The wedding rehearsal was supposed to be simple.
Walk down the aisle. Stand in the right place. Don't trip. Don't cry. Don't stare at the woman standing three feet away like you want to peel back every layer she's wrapped around herself.
Becca was failing at least two of those things.
The ceremony space was beautiful, an outdoor area nestled among the vines, with a wooden arbor draped in white fabric and climbing roses. Rows of chairs waited on either side of a stone pathway, and the late afternoon light made everything glow like a postcard.
Sophie and Jamie were at the front, practicing their positions under the arbor. The officiant, a friend of Jamie's who'd gotten ordained online, was walking them through the timing. And the bridal party stood in two neat lines, waiting to be told where to go.
Margot was directly across from Becca.
This was intentional, apparently. Sophie had arranged the lineup so that pairs of attendants would walk together, and somehow, somehow, Becca had been paired with Margot.
"The maid of honor walks last," the officiant explained. "After all the bridesmaids are in position. And she walks alone, unless—"
"Unless she wants a partner," Sophie cut in, grinning. "Margot, you can walk with Becca if you want. It's not traditional, but neither is having two brides' sides."
Margot's expression didn't change. "Whatever's easiest."
"Great! You'll walk together, then. Becca, you good?"
Becca forced a smile. "Perfect."
They practiced the procession three times. Each time, Becca was acutely aware of Margot beside her: the rhythm of her steps, the subtle scent of her perfume (something clean and expensive, with a hint of bergamot), her hand occasionally brushing Becca's arm when they turned to take their positions.
By the third run-through, Becca was a wreck.
It wasn't just the proximity, though that was bad enough.
Margot looked stunning in the golden light, her sharp features softened, her usual tension eased just slightly.
She'd smiled, genuinely smiled, when Sophie tripped over her own dress during the second run-through.
And she'd caught Becca looking at her and held her gaze for half a second too long.
I see you, Becca had said earlier. Not the mask. You.
She'd meant it. And she was starting to think Margot was considering letting herself be seen.
The rehearsal dinner was smaller than the night before, just the wedding party, crammed around a single long table in one of the venue's private dining rooms. The mood was looser, more intimate.
Sophie had specifically requested no toasts, just "food and gossip and maybe some embarrassing stories about Jamie's college years. "
Becca ended up next to Margot again. At this point, she suspected Sophie was actively engineering it.
"This seat taken?"
Margot looked up from the menu. "It appears to be now."
"Your powers of observation are impressive."
"It's the law degree. Very expensive, very thorough."
Becca laughed and dropped into the chair beside her. "So. We survived the rehearsal. Any notes? Things I did wrong?"
Margot tilted her head, thinking. "You walked slightly too fast during the second run-through."
"That's because I was nervous."
"Nervous about walking?" she asked with one brow arched.
"Nervous about walking next to you." The words came out before Becca could stop them. She saw Margot's expression flicker, surprise quickly controlled. "Sorry. The wine at lunch made me honest."
"You haven't had wine at lunch. We've been in rehearsal for three hours."
"Nervous makes me honest too."
Margot studied her. That careful, evaluating gaze that made Becca feel like a contract being reviewed for loopholes.
"Why does walking next to me make you nervous?"
"I think you know."
Margot set down her wine glass, not looking away. "I'd rather hear you say it."
Becca reached for a bread roll, needing something to do with her hands.
"Because you're interesting. Because you're beautiful—don't make that face, you know you are.
Because every time you look at me, I feel like you're seeing something you haven't decided whether to trust yet.
And because I almost kissed you last night, and you ran away, and I still don't know what that means. "
She tore the roll in half, not eating it, just shredding it slowly into pieces.
"I didn't run away," Margot said quietly.
"You literally fled to the bathroom."
"I was…" Margot paused. Took a breath. "I was caught off guard."
"By what?"
"By you. By the way you look at me. By the fact that you seem to mean the things you say, which is…" She shook her head. "Not something I'm used to."
"What are you used to?"
"People who want things. Clients who want favorable outcomes. Colleagues who want connections. Partners who want…" She stopped herself.
"Partners who want what?"
Margot went quiet. The noise of the dinner swirled around them, laughter and conversation and the clink of glasses, but their corner of the table felt separate. Private.
"My last relationship ended because I wasn't present enough," she finally said. "Kate said I was always working, always somewhere else. Even when I was physically there, I wasn't there. And she was right. I was so focused on making partner that I forgot to be a person."
"That's a lot of pressure to put on yourself."
"It was also a lot of pressure to put on her." Margot looked down at her plate. "She deserved better. And I couldn't give it to her. Couldn't even try."
Becca let that settle. The admission felt like a gift, a tiny crack in the armor Margot kept so carefully maintained.
"For what it's worth," Becca said, "you seem pretty present right now."
"I'm trying. This weekend…" Margot gestured vaguely. "Sophie would never forgive me if I spent her wedding on my phone."
"Is that the only reason?"
Margot met her eyes. "No."
The waiter arrived with their entrees, breaking the moment. They ate in comfortable silence for a while, occasionally drawn into broader conversations. Priya asking about Becca's worst cake disaster, Chen trying to convince Margot to take a vacation that wasn't for a wedding.
But they kept returning to each other. Small glances, brief observations, the kind of attention that felt like a conversation even when they weren't speaking.
Halfway through dinner, Sophie stood up and clinked her glass.
"I know I said no toasts," she announced, "but I'm the bride, so I get to break my own rules.
I just wanted to say—" Her voice wavered slightly.
"I'm so grateful you're all here. Not just for the wedding stuff, but for everything.
For showing up. For loving me and Jamie enough to fly across the country and deal with my insane scheduling and wear matching dresses. You're my people. I love you all."
She raised her glass. Everyone drank.
"Also," Sophie added, "I've seen you two sitting together and making heart eyes at each other all night." She pointed directly at Margot and Becca. "And I'm not saying I orchestrated the room situation, but I'm also not not saying that."
Becca choked on her wine.
Margot's face went carefully blank, the expression Becca was starting to recognize as her default when she didn't know how to react.
"Sophie," Margot said evenly, "if you weren't getting married this weekend, I'd kill you."
"I know." Sophie beamed. "That's why I scheduled it strategically."
The table erupted in laughter. Becca buried her face in her hands, cheeks burning.
When she looked up, Margot was watching her with what might have been amusement.
"Heart eyes?" Margot murmured.
"She's drunk."
"She's not wrong."
Becca's chest tightened. "No. She's not."
They walked back to the cottage together, the evening cool and star-scattered.
Becca was still feeling the warmth of dinner: the wine, the laughter, Sophie's intervention that had been embarrassing but also, somehow, a relief. It was out in the open now. Whatever this was between them, it wasn't just in her head.
"Can I ask you something?" Margot's voice was soft in the darkness.
"You keep asking that. You can always ask. Worst case, I don't answer."
"Sophie mentioned you were going through something. Before the wedding. A breakup?"
Becca's stomach tightened. "She told you?"
"She said you'd been having a hard time. She didn't give details."
They walked in silence for a moment. The cottage was visible now, a warm square of light in the darkness.
"Her name was Maya," Becca said. "We dated for eight months. She ended it three weeks ago."
"I'm sorry."
"Don't be. She was probably right to." Becca kicked at a stone on the path. "She said I was too much. Too intense. Too eager to give everything when she just wanted something casual. I overwhelmed her."
"That sounds like a her problem, not a you problem."
"Yeah, well. It keeps being a me problem." Becca's voice came out rougher than she intended. "Every relationship. Same story. I fall too fast, give too much, need too much. And eventually they leave. Because apparently loving someone with your whole heart is a character flaw."
"It's not."
"It feels like it is."
They'd reached the cottage. Becca stopped at the door, not ready to go inside yet. The darkness felt safer for this conversation, easier to be honest when she couldn't see Margot's reaction clearly.
"I'm tired," she admitted. "Of trying so hard and still not being enough. Of being told I'm too much and not enough at the same time. I don't know how to be less than I am. I've tried. It doesn't work."
"Then don't try."
"What?"
Margot stepped closer. In the dim light from the cottage windows, her face was half-illuminated, half-shadow.
"Don't try to be less. You're—" She paused, seeming to search for words. "You're incandescent. You just shine. And anyone who can't handle that isn't the right person."
Tears pricked at her eyes. "That's the nicest thing anyone's ever said to me."
"I told you. I don't say things I don't mean."
"I know. That's why it means so much."
They stood there, inches apart. The warmth radiating from Margot reached her through the cool night air. The slight parting of Margot's lips, her chest rising and falling with each breath.
Kiss me, Becca thought. Please. Just kiss me.
But Margot didn't move. And Becca had already made the first move once, last night, and been rejected.
She wasn't going to do it again. If Margot wanted this, she'd have to be the one to close the distance.
"We should go inside," Margot said finally.
"Yeah."
They went.
The cottage felt different tonight. Smaller. More charged.
Becca changed in the bathroom, taking her time, trying to calm her racing heart. When she emerged, Margot was already in bed, silk pajamas, hair down, reading something on her phone.
"What are you reading?"
"Work emails."
"It's eleven at night."
"The brief I mentioned. My associate had questions."
Becca climbed into bed on her side. Closer to the center than usual. "You know, normal people don't answer work emails during wedding weekends."
"I'm not normal people."
"No. You're not."
Margot set her phone on the nightstand and turned to face Becca. They were both on their sides now, looking at each other across the pillows.
"I should warn you," Margot said. "I'm not good at this."
"At what?"
"Feelings. Vulnerability. Whatever this is between us." Margot's fingers plucked at a loose thread on the pillowcase, the only restless thing about her.
"What is this?"
"I don't know." Margot's voice was barely above a whisper. "But it scares me."
Becca's pulse thudded in her ears. The inches between them felt like nothing. "Me too."
Margot studied her face in the dim light. "You don't seem scared."
"I'm terrified." Becca smiled, but it was shaky. "I'm just better at hiding it than you think."
"I doubt that. You can't hide anything. It's one of the things I…" Margot stopped.
"One of the things you what?"
A long pause. The kind of pause that felt like standing at the edge of a cliff.
"One of the things I find fascinating about you," Margot finished. "Your transparency. Your willingness to just be yourself."
"Is that a compliment?"
"It's the truth."
Becca reached out across the space between them. Not touching, just offering. Her hand palm-up on the mattress.
Margot looked at it. Looked at Becca.
Then, slowly, she took it. Her fingers threading through Becca's, cool and steady.
"We should sleep," Margot said. "Big day tomorrow."
"Yeah."
Neither of them moved.
They fell asleep like that, hands intertwined, faces inches apart, breathing in tandem.
And when Becca woke in the middle of the night, Margot was still holding on.