6. The Wedding Day
THE WEDDING DAY
Becca woke to the feeling of fingers tracing patterns on her shoulder blade.
She kept her eyes closed, savoring it: the soft touch, the warmth of Margot's body curved against her back, the impossibility of this being real.
Two days ago, she'd been convincing herself that the almost-kisses meant nothing.
Now she was naked in bed with the woman who'd been driving her crazy all weekend, and everything was different.
"I know you're awake," Margot murmured.
"I'm pretending to sleep so you'll keep doing that."
A soft laugh. The fingers continued their trail down her spine. "You're shameless."
"You like it."
"I do."
Becca rolled over, facing her. Margot was propped on one elbow, hair loose and wild, looking more relaxed than Becca had ever seen her. There was a mark on her collarbone that hadn't been there yesterday. Becca had put it there.
"Hi," Becca said.
"Hi." Margot's hair fell forward, curtaining them both. Becca tucked it behind her ear.
"Big day today."
Margot nodded. "The biggest."
"Nervous?" she asked.
"Terrified." Margot's mouth curved. "But not about the wedding."
"Then about what?"
"About this. About what happens when the weekend ends and we have to go back to our real lives." Her gaze searched Becca's face. "About wanting something I'm not sure I know how to have."
Becca reached out and traced the line of Margot's jaw. Sharp, elegant, perfect.
"What if we just take it one day at a time?" she suggested. "Today, we survive Sophie's wedding. Tomorrow, we figure out the rest."
"That's very… present-focused."
"I'm a baker. We work in the moment. You can't worry about the next cake when the current one needs icing."
Margot laughed again, that real laugh, the one Becca had discovered yesterday. It felt like a victory every time she heard it.
"Okay," Margot said. "One day at a time. Starting with getting dressed, because Sophie will murder us if we're late."
"Sophie can wait five more minutes."
"What's happening in five minutes?"
Becca kissed her instead of answering. Soft at first, then deeper as Margot pulled her closer. The kiss lasted longer than five minutes. Neither of them complained.
Getting dressed in the small cottage felt different now.
Before, they'd orbited each other carefully, maintaining distance, pretending the small space wasn't charged with unspoken tension.
Now, they moved around each other with an ease that felt hard-won.
Becca stood at the mirror doing her makeup while Margot showered.
Margot emerged wrapped in a towel and asked Becca to zip her dress.
Becca's fingers lingered on the zipper longer than strictly necessary.
"You're beautiful," she said, meeting Margot's eyes in the mirror.
"You're biased."
"I'm honest. There's a difference."
Margot turned, surveying herself. The bridesmaid dress was a deep blush, Sophie's color, chosen to complement without competing. It fell just below Margot's knees and clung in all the right places.
"You clean up pretty well yourself," Margot said, looking at Becca's reflection.
Becca twirled. Same dress, same color, but it looked different on her: softer, maybe, or warmer. "I feel like a cupcake."
Margot smiled and said, "You make a very attractive cupcake."
"That's the nicest thing anyone's ever said to me."
"You said that yesterday."
"You keep outdoing yourself."
Margot's smile was small but real. "Necklace?"
She was holding up a delicate gold chain with a tiny pendant. Becca stepped behind her and fastened the clasp, letting her fingers brush the nape of Margot's neck.
"There," she said. "Perfect."
Their eyes met in the mirror. For a moment, neither of them moved.
"We should go check on my cake," Becca said, breaking the spell before it could pull them back toward the bed. "There'll be time for other things later."
"Promise?"
"Promise."
The cake was perfect.
Becca stood in the venue's pastry kitchen, making final adjustments, and let herself feel the satisfaction.
Five tiers of vanilla bean with lemon curd filling, covered in fondant so smooth it looked like porcelain.
The hand-piped lace matched Sophie's dress exactly.
Becca had spent two weeks perfecting the pattern.
And the sugar peonies on top were her best work yet, soft blush pink, edged with cream, each petal crafted individually.
"It's incredible."
Margot was standing in the doorway, watching.
"Thank you." Becca adjusted one of the peonies slightly, a fraction of an inch to the left. "I've been dreaming about this moment for months. Sophie's the first friend I've ever made a wedding cake for. I wanted it to be special."
"It is." Margot crossed the room, coming to stand beside her. "The detail is extraordinary. How long did the lace take?"
"Three days. My hand cramped so badly I had to ice it after every session."
"And you did it for free? As a gift?"
"Sophie's worth it." Becca shrugged. "Plus, this is the kind of work that builds a portfolio. Someday, when I open my own bakery, I'll have photos of this to show clients."
"Your own bakery?"
"That's the dream." Becca stepped back, surveying the cake from a distance. "A little shop somewhere. Custom cakes and pastries. Morning coffee crowds and afternoon dessert seekers. A proper brick-and-mortar place instead of working out of my apartment kitchen."
"That sounds like a worthy dream."
"Someday." Becca smiled, trying to keep it light. "Right now, I'm just trying to survive the month-to-month. Freelance baking pays the bills, but it's not exactly stable."
Margot was watching her with that assessing look, the one Becca had initially found intimidating but now recognized as interest.
"You're incredible at this," Margot said quietly. "The focus, the precision. It's like watching art happen."
"Careful. You're going to make me cry, and then my mascara will run, and Sophie will never forgive you."
"I mean it."
"I know." Becca reached for her hand, threading their fingers together. "That's why it matters."
They stood there for a moment, hand in hand, looking at the cake. The venue was coming alive around them: voices in the hallway, footsteps overhead, the organized chaos of a wedding day beginning.
"Ready?" Margot asked.
Becca squeezed her hand. "Let's go watch Sophie get married."
The ceremony was perfect.
Sophie walked down the aisle on her mother's arm, radiant in her lace gown, crying before she even reached the arbor. Jamie waited at the front, also crying, also glowing. They held hands through the entire ceremony, unable to stop touching each other.
Becca stood in her place in the bridesmaid line, Margot directly across from her, and tried not to cry.
She failed.
The tears started during the vows, Sophie's voice cracking as she promised to love Jamie through every chaos and every calm. By the time they exchanged rings, Becca was openly weeping, mascara be damned.
Margot was crying too. More discreetly, just a few tears escaping, quickly wiped away, but crying nonetheless. It was the most human Becca had ever seen her.
They kissed for the first time as a married couple, and the crowd erupted in cheers. Sophie laughed into the kiss, Jamie dipped her dramatically, and everyone was clapping and crying and laughing all at once.
As they walked back down the aisle, Sophie caught Becca's eye and mouthed thank you. Becca blew her a kiss.
Then she looked across at Margot. Margot was looking back, and her expression held the same soft ache Becca felt in her own chest.
The reception was a blur of champagne and dancing.
Sophie had insisted on a massive celebration: three-course dinner, live band, open bar until midnight. The venue's main hall had been transformed into something magical. Fairy lights strung from the exposed beams. Candles flickering on every surface. Flowers cascading from every available corner.
Becca's cake was cut during the dessert course. Sophie made a point of introducing her to the crowd, calling her "the most talented baker I know and the best friend anyone could ask for." More crying. More mascara damage.
"You're going to look like a raccoon in all the photos," Margot observed, appearing at her elbow with a glass of champagne.
"A well-fed, emotionally overwhelmed raccoon."
"The best kind."
They clinked glasses. Becca watched Sophie and Jamie take to the floor for their first dance, swaying as if they were the only two people in the room.
"That's what I want," she said. The words just slipped out. "Someday. That kind of love. The kind that makes you cry at your own wedding because you can't believe you get to keep this person."
"You'll have it."
Becca looked at Margot. "You think so?"
"I know so." Margot's gaze was soft. "You love too hard and too much, remember? That's not a flaw. It's a feature. Someday, you'll find someone who wants to be loved that way."
"What about you?"
"What about me?" she asked, a little confused.
"Do you want that? The wedding, the vows, the whole thing?"
Margot didn't answer right away. The song changed, something slow and romantic, and Sophie was suddenly at their side.
"You two. Dance floor. Now."
"Sophie—"
"It's my wedding and I get what I want. You've been making heart eyes at each other all weekend and I demand to see it in action." Sophie physically pushed them toward the dance floor. "Go. Be cute. That's an order."
There was no graceful way to refuse. Becca let herself be herded onto the floor, Margot beside her, both of them looking slightly shell-shocked.
"I guess we're dancing," Becca said.
"I guess we are."
She stepped closer, one hand finding Margot's waist, the other clasping her hand. Margot's arm came around her, pulling her near, and suddenly they were swaying together in the middle of Sophie's wedding reception.
"Hi," Becca whispered.
"Hi." Margot's thumb traced a small circle on Becca's lower back.
"This is very public."
"I know."
"Is that okay?"