“We are married. We’re just doing the ceremony. And it’s from Evie. She gave it to me.” I grin. “She’s so good to me.”
Pure disgust crosses his face. “You’re pathetic. Pussy-whipped.”
“Wow. I don’t know if a guy who drives a pink car has the right to say stuff like that to another man.”
“That’s not my car.” He bristles.
“Uh-huh. Keep kidding yourself,” I say, taking half a step back. Dane has a mean right hook. I like my nose exactly the way it is, thank you very much.
Court steps between the two of us. “Just hold back until the ceremony is over, and the photographer got his pictures,” he says to Dane.
Wow. “Whose friend are you, man?”
“Yours…but he looks mean,” Court says in a stage whisper.
Dane makes a noise of annoyance and stalks off toward the bar. Justin appears, sticking his head into the cabin. “It’s time,” he says.
This is it. I finish my drink and check my appearance in the mirror one last time, smoothing my hair and running my hands over my stomach.
“Try not to puke while you wait for your bride at the altar. It makes for a singularly poor photo,” Dane says.
“Colorful, though,” I say as I walk out.
The slight buzzing in my belly isn’t nerves—it’s excitement and anticipation. I walk up and out onto the deck with Justin and Court as my groomsmen. The sky is crystal clear, a cerulean plate broken only by a few distant seabirds. White satin-covered chairs are laid out with geometric perfection, almost all of them already occupied by friends and family. Thousands of orchids and lilies stir in the gentle breeze. Mari looks at me and nods with a small smile. A win, I think. She’s finally warming up to me, especially after learning that I did my best to keep her out of the Bradley Brown drama.
The quartet is set and ready next to the altar. Barron wanted a small orchestra, but he lost at rock scissors paper, so Evie got to have her quartet.
I gaze down the long aisle and wait until the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen in my life appears—Evie. The white empire gown creates gorgeous flowing lines, and she glows, holding a bouquet of pink, white and blue flowers. Barron, resplendent in a crisp black tuxedo, offers his arm to her, and she lays her hand in the crook of his elbow.
The quartet strikes up the beginning notes of “Here Comes the Bride,” Evie takes her first step down the aisle and it’s the most perfect overture to the wonderful life we’re going to have together.
——