When we first entered, I couldn’t help but think it looked like something out of a dream. Caroline kept the vine theme throughout, with tendrils of greenery and fresh flowers wound around every available space. The lighting was subtle, casting everything in a gentle, golden glow. There are twinkling fairy lights draped in the middle of each table. Bright, fragrant flowers everywhere you look. You could even smell them, fragrant and sweet.
My bouquet is beautiful and I can’t wait to take it home and stare at it for the next few days. My dress fits like a dream, which I’m thankful for considering I haven’t ate much these last few days and was worried I lost weight.
My boobs still threaten to fall out of it, though. Like right now, while I’m dancing and pointing at the twerking Stella. Everyone’s laughing and clapping, encouraging her bad behavior. More women start twerking. I can’t manage it. I’ve tried before, but failed. This is not my time to shine. I’m giving it up to Stella and Co. for tonight.
Once the song is over, the DJ starts talking, announcing that it’s time to cut the cake. We all make our way over to the table where the giant cake sits. It’s a beautiful thing, three round tiers with white frosting and topped with real flowers. I can’t imagine the florist bill for the wedding.
Caroline and Alex are kind as they feed each other cake. No shoving cake in each other’s faces, which I’m sure was discussed beforehand. There are sounds of disappointment, but for the most part everyone claps.
And then it’s back to the dancefloor.
I beg off, going over to our table so I can sit down for a minute and rest. My feet ache. The sandals I’m wearing are beautiful, with thin silver straps, but painful after so many hours of being on my feet. I’m a little sweaty around my hairline and between my shoulders, and I grab a napkin, dabbing my forehead with it to take the shine off.
“Tired?”
I turn to find Sarah has slid into the chair next to mine. She appears as tired as I feel.
“Yeah.” I smile. “This has been the best day.”
“I can tell you’re enjoying yourself. I’m so glad.” She reaches out and squeezes my hand. “I was hoping you could forget about Mitch for a few hours.”
Just like that, he’s forefront in my thoughts. And that’s okay. It doesn’t hurt so bad right now. Maybe because I have a plan.
“I’m going to talk to him,” I tell her, hoping she doesn’t berate my choice. “Probably tomorrow. I want to hear what he has to say.”
“I think that’s a good idea. Maybe he deserves a second chance.”
“He has to grovel.” I smile. “A lot.”
“Make him beg!” Sarah crows, just before we start laughing.
“I need to go to the bathroom,” I tell her as I rise to my feet. “Want to go with?”
“Sure.”
We make our way to the bathrooms that are in the ballroom section of the building. There’s another wedding reception happening inside, and I can hear the music carry in the hallway, along with the dull roar of lots of people talking all at once. Sarah and I slip into the bathroom, and I’m grateful there’s a stall available and I don’t have to wait in line. I really have to pee.
Once we’re finished, Sarah and I wash our hands and fix each other’s hair. I dab at the streaks of mascara beneath both of my eyes. We stand up straight, shoulder to shoulder, studying ourselves in the mirror.
“This dress is so fabulous,” Sarah says with a wistful sigh. “It looks good on all of us. And we all have distinctly different body types.”
“Right? I mean, look at my boobs.” I gesture toward them. They look ready to fall out, but they’re constrained pretty well. I just have really great cleavage. “Plus it hides all my flaws.” Like my generous hips and thighs.
“You have zero flaws. You’re beautiful,” Sarah says earnestly.
I almost can’t deal with all the compliments my friends are doling out. They’re making me feel so appreciated.
Loved.
“So are you,” I tell her just before we turn toward each other and hug.
We are having a total moment here. I feel like my friends all talked among themselves and decided it was going to be nothing but positive reinforcement where I’m concerned.
I’m not complaining. It’s been really good for my crushed ego today.
“Okay, let’s go,” Sarah says. “I don’t want to miss the bouquet toss.”
“You don’t think they’re having it yet, do you?” I ask as we both make our way to the door.
“You never know. This DJ seems to be moving everything along at a pretty good clip,” Sarah says as she holds the door open for me.
We both exit the building, heading toward the tent when I spot a very tall man in the distance, hovering right at the tent’s entrance.
A very familiar tall man.
My heart starts thumping extra hard as we draw closer. He’s broad. Muscular. Clad in a black suit and a white shirt, no tie. His golden-brown hair is neatly trimmed, like he just got a cut, and I’m filled with disappointment that I didn’t get to give him one.
Because I know that hair. That man. It’s freaking Mitch.
And he’s here.
In Monterey. Pebble Beach. At Caroline and Alex’s wedding.
How did he find us?
Freezing, I stand there like an idiot and gape at him. He spots me almost immediately, as if he could feel my presence, and now he’s gaping too.
Oh God. He looks so, so good. I want to run to him.
But my feet refuse to move.
“Why are you stopping? What’s going on?” Sarah looks from me to where Mitch is standing, her eyes going wide when she realizes who he is. How does she know? I’m sure they’ve all Googled him now and know exactly what he looks like. “Oh.”
“He’s here,” I whisper. I sound excited. I am excited. My heart is beating so hard I’m afraid it might fly out of my chest and my entire body is covered in tingles.
It’s the way he’s looking at me, like I’m the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen. I see it all in his eyes. The regret. The apology. The reverence. The wanting.
Every single emotion is shining in his gaze for me to see.
I feel the same exact way—though I’m not saying sorry, no, sir. I’m not the one who did anything wrong here.
“I’ll leave you two alone,” Sarah says just before she walks off.
I barely acknowledge her leaving. I’m too wrapped up in the man who is now approaching me. His steps are sure. His gaze is direct. But I see the worry in his expression. The tension in his jaw. Is he afraid I’ll tell him to leave? He should be.
He has no idea I’ve had a slight change of heart.
“I had to come find you,” he finally says, his deep voice washing over me, making my knees weak. “I’ve been looking for you for hours.”
“Really?” I squeak. I clear my throat. Stand up a little straighter. Note the way his gaze drops to my chest for the briefest moment.
My skin catches fire there. He has such a thing for my breasts. What a perv.
I want him to be my perv.
He nods. “Traffic is hell on a Saturday afternoon in Pebble Beach.”
“There was some sort of car show,” I tell him.