Chapter 13 Wedding March
Wedding March
Tasha
The ceremony is lovely. Traditional. The celebrant talks about love and commitment and partnership. Connor and Finley exchange vows they clearly wrote themselves, full of inside jokes and promises.
When Connor says, “You’re my best friend, the sonnet to my soul, and love of my life.” I want to gag.
And then Seb mouths across the aisle: Cheesy.
I fake a cough to cover my laugh.
When Finley promises to “love you even when you leave wet towels on the bathroom floor,” Seb catches my eye and mouths: I fold my towels.
I mouth back: Liar.
He puts his hand over his heart like I’ve wounded him.
The bridesmaid next to me elbows me. “Pay attention,” she hisses.
I try. I really do.
But as the celebrant announces Finley and Connor as husband and wife, Seb shifts his weight, his knee audibly cracks, and he groans. It feels like half of the guests turn to look. He goes bright red, and I bite the inside of my cheek so hard I taste blood. At least I don’t laugh?
Finally, the celebrant redirects our attention where it needs to be, “You may kiss the bride.”
Connor dips Finley in a move that’s way too dramatic for a beach wedding. She kicks up one leg, they overbalance and somehow, he spins them so he breaks her fall.
“Way to go, Finley,” Lyssa calls out. “Start the marriage the way you mean to continue it—straddle that man and stay on top.”
There’s as much laughter as applause.
Seb catches my eye and rolls his. “You can top me any time,” he mouths.
“Promises, promises,” I mouth back.
The recessional music starts. Connor and Finley walk back down the aisle, beaming and waving like they’re royalty.
Seb offers his arm. I take it, and his fingers immediately find mine, lacing together.
“Your tie is crooked,” I whisper as we walk.
“Your hair is perfect,” he whispers back.
“Liar.”
“Truth.”
We make it halfway down the aisle before he adds, “Also, you’re the most beautiful woman here.”
“The bride might disagree.”
“The bride is wrong.”
I squeeze his arm. “You’re ridiculous.”
“Ridiculously in love with you.”
I don’t have words. I mean, is it poor form to tell the best man I’m ridiculously in love with him at my cousin’s wedding?