Page 156 of The Wedding Menu

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“Okay, Ames. You ready?” Martha asks. With my heart thumping in my ears, I nod. Just now it occurs to me that when the barn doors open, I’ll have to walk down the aisle with everyone’s eyes on me. How did I not realize it before? I’ll totally trip on this dress and fall face-first on the grass. People will have to leave their chairs to help me up. I’ll probably squish my bouquet in the process.

And of course, because this was sprung on me at the last minute, I didn’t prepare any vows. And the whole formula you need to say: I would have repeated it a little in my head last night if I knew I’d be getting married today. I know the officiant will tell us the exact words, but what if I forget the next ones halfway through? And who goes first? Is it me or him?

“You’re so pretty,” a young girl in a green dress says. She’s holding a basket, so I assume she’s the flower girl, but I’ve never seen her before.

“Oh, th-thanks.”

“Ames?” Barb grips my elbow. “Are you all right?”

I am. Of course I am. I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I kindof wish the wedding were over already so I could just be married to Ian. That part I’m not struggling with. “Just nerves.”

“Okay. Take a minute,” Martha says.

I nod, breathing through my nose. I could use a minute, and brides are always late anyway.

But the child keeps asking me questions. “Is the dress heavy?” and “Why didn’t you buy it in pink?” and “Is your boyfriend blond?” I normally don’t know how to approach kids, but this one I’d gladly shoo away like a stray dog.

“Where—where’s Ian?” I ask as I ignore the latest onslaught of questions.

“At the altar.” Barb exchanges a worried look with Martha. “That’s where the groom usually is. What’s going on, Ames? Are you—”

“Can you get him?”

She nods, squeezing my hand, then walks out the door. The music begins before stopping abruptly as the band realizes the bride isn’t following. A couple of minutes later, Barb is back, followed by my beautiful fiancé with his eyes closed.

“Hey,” he says as Barb positions him in front of me. I’ve seen him in his suit already, but it hits me all over again just how handsome he is. His hands find my arms and he smiles. “Are you ditching this wedding too?”

“No,” I rush to say. “Did I worry you?”

He tilts his head. “I’m waiting to see where this goes.”

Barb and Martha walk away, giving us some space, and, to my relief, they take the chatty girl with them.

“Sorry,” I say as soon as we’re alone. “I guess I just… panicked a little. I wanted to see you.” I smile, though he can’t see me. “You can open your eyes. You’ve seen the dress plenty already.”

“You panicked?” His fingers locate mine as he keeps his eyes closed. “If you’re rethinking it, we can take our time and—”

“I’m not. I’m just… I never realized how daunting it is to walk down the aisle. And with a long dress too. Plus, I don’t have vows and I don’t remember who says them first and—wait, at what point do we sign? Trev is religious. There isn’t a priest at the altar, is there? Because—”

“Ooookay,” he interrupts as his fingers squeeze tighter. “You’re definitely panicking. I thought you loved weddings.”

“I thought so too.”

He leans forward and gives me a peck on my cheek, then my lips. With a smile, he whispers, “First of all, it’d be hilarious if you tripped. Not immediately, but eventually. Plus, it can’t get any worse than being naked, covered in butter, and—oops. Taboo topic. Moving on.”

“I don’t even know why I’m marrying you,” I mutter.

He raises one finger. “Gorgeous.” Two fingers. “Rich.” Three fingers. “Trembling orgasms.”

When I swat his arm, he drapes it around me and exhales softly. “You know, if your dad walked you down the aisle, the whole tripping scenario would be much less likely. I’m sure he’d be happy to hold you up.”

Maybe, but I don’t want him to. Though I’m glad he’s here today, and his words meant a lot to me, it took him thirty years to say them, and it stings. I’d be happy to give him a chance to fix our relationship, but one moment doesn’t change everything that happened before, unfortunately.

“Wouldyouwalk with me?” I ask.

“Me?” His eyebrows rise. “Don’t you want me to wait at the altar? Watch my expression when I see you? It goes like this.” His face contorts into a half frown and half smile, and with a fake sob he brings a fist to his lips and shakes his head.

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