35. Thirty-Five
Thirty-Five
Tessa
“ I can’t believe you’re finally getting married,” Megan cries as she looks me up and down through a set of damp fake lashes. “It sure took you long enough.”
Chuckling, I turn toward the full-length mirror and marvel at the absolute vision staring back.
I can hardly believe I’m looking at the same girl who sported a messy bun and a crumb-covered tracksuit a mere two hours ago.
When I woke up this morning, I did so with a level of nervous excitement that made it hard to breathe.
I decided a good old-fashioned mimosa was exactly what the doctor ordered.
Just a glass or two to take the edge off.
Four drinks later, I found myself contemplating whether or not it’d be a good idea to open a second bottle, and that’s when I knew it was time to call in reinforcements to help talk me off the ledge.
Several minutes and one last mimosa later, Megan and my mom arrived—arms loaded with a variety of comfort foods—and shoving the owner of the town’s lone beauty salon through my front door.
I’d planned on taking care of my own hair and make-up and hadn’t bothered booking a professional.
But when a test run earlier in the day left me looking like a poor man’s Cindy Lauper, I found myself panicking for a whole different reason.
Megan, being the absolute lifesaver she is called up Sally, who must be an angel sent straight from the heavens and didn’t hesitate to offer her services as a wedding gift.
I’d gorged myself on junk food and looked on in wonder while Sally worked her magic.
A can of hairspray and a few brushstrokes later, and she had me looking like Cinderella before the big ball.
I’m wearing a simple, knee-length chiffon dress with a V-neck collar and lace sleeves.
It appears unassuming and elegant from the front but dips so low in the back—I just know it’ll drive Jake crazy.
A pair of embroidered nude stiletto pumps complete the look and make my slender legs look like they go on forever.
My hair has been teased, curled, and twisted into an intricate updo, leaving only a few loose tendrils to play around my heart-shaped face.
I’m wearing a minimal amount of make-up, just enough to highlight my best features, like the touch of rouge that sits high on my cheekbones, or the thin layer of lip gloss that makes my plump lips look that much more inviting.
“My brother is going to lose his mind when he sees you walking down the aisle, but his jaw is really going to hit the floor when he gets a look at you from the back. You look sexy as hell, girl,” Anna squeals, fanning her face and making my cheeks heat.
My mother, who’s been awfully quiet throughout the entire process, finally pipes up. “I can’t believe my baby girl is getting hitched. Life may have served you a few curveballs, but that didn’t stop you from bringing the win home.” I laugh at her metaphor.
It’s funny because we both know I couldn’t hit a ball if my life depended on it.
I’ve never been the athletic type, and God knows I’ve tried.
But my mother has a point. After Jake’s near-death experience, we’d decided against a big affair that would undoubtedly have taken months to plan, and only would’ve caused a recovering Jake unnecessary stress.
Besides, neither one of us was willing to wait longer than absolutely necessary, and an intimate ceremony seemed much more our style.
It’s been nine weeks since the day I almost lost Jake, and I’m beyond ready to finally make him mine.
The back room at Jackie’s diner is set up and ready for a private party following the ceremony, and we reserved a large booth at the saloon for those who feel like drinks and dancing afterwards.
It’s a far cry from the extravagant affair I envisioned when I was a little girl, but after Jake’s terrifying brush with the grim reaper my priorities changed.
Celebrating our union surrounded by people we love and trust is all that matters to me now.
“Let me get a picture,” my mom urges, rummaging around in her purse before she produces the Polaroid camera she’s purchased specifically for today. “You look so damn beautiful; it would be a crime not to capture this moment,” she sniffs, dabbing at the corners of her eyes with a handkerchief.
“Mom, stop it. You’re going to make me lose it, and all this,” I say, pointing to my face and drawing a circle around it, “Will be ruined. We don’t have time for a do-over.
We’re running late as it is.” I have no doubt my future husband is currently wearing out Father O’Brien’s beloved shag carpets with his incessant pacing, wondering what is taking his bride so long.
“Alright, alright. I’ll keep myself in check,” she promises, staring at the ceiling to stave off unwanted tears before she steps up to me and weaves our fingers together.
“Before we go, I just want to say that I’m beyond grateful the good Lord gave me the chance to be here today.
To see you walk down the aisle to marry the man of your dreams. If the past few months have taught us anything, it’s how fleeting life can be.
That the things we take for granted can be snatched away from us in the blink of an eye.
Fortunately, we all came out the other side stronger for it.
So today is all about celebrating this beautiful life we get to live, the love you share with Jake, and the bright future you both deserve.
I love you, my sweet, sweet girl, and I’m so very proud of the woman you’ve become. ”
Gah. How am I supposed to keep it together after that?
I fan at my lash line in a feeble attempt to keep the tears at bay before I pull my mother close.
I’m aware I’m holding on longer than necessary, but I need this moment with her.
A moment to breathe her in and send a silent thank you to the heavens for allowing me to keep my mom for a few more years.
“Okay,” I bark, once I trust myself to speak again. “Let’s get this show on the road. My future husband is waiting, and I don’t want him to think the bride is a no-show.”
“Let’s make an honest woman out of you,” Megan shouts to a chorus of cheers before we pour ourselves out of the house and into my mother’s vehicle.