Page 95 of Up in Smoke

I barely rise from my seat to move across the aisle when the song coming through two large speakers on either side of the ceremony switches. Guests turn their heads, and I’m forced to sit back down.

Heston leads the groomsmen down the aisle. At first, I give him a fleeting glance. Then I do a double take. Did they have to hold him down to get his beard trimmed like that? His bulky frame fills out his tailored suit, his boots look new, and the haton his head is neither sweat-stained nor slightly dented on the crown like usual.

I have to tilt my head almost all the way to continue gawking at him as he passes me. He’s nothing short of imposing, and I wouldn’t be surprised if we found out one day he was carved from the side of a mountain.

It’d be tacky if I took a video and sent it to Hattie later. She’d also throw my phone into the nearest body of water, so I forget the idea altogether.

As he reaches the altar and turns to take his spot, Tripp’s back invades my line of sight. He’s leaner compared to Heston. His gait is less relaxed than usual. Even his suit can’t hide the muscles that are coiled tight underneath.

Warren and Gage walk in next. They clasp hands, lean in, and slap each other on the back once before turning to the crowd.

It makes me smile, and I try to hold onto the expression, but my grin fades quickly to reveal the painful uncertainty that I can’t seem to hide. With the men all in place, the song switches again. I almost gasp as the bridesmaids float by. The bouquets in their hands are nothing like the understated ceremony decorations. They’re positively lavish and overflowing with fluffed-out peony blooms.

Savannah subtly winks at me as she and Keanna stand on the opposite side of the altar from the men. I force a quick, closed-lip smile and fiddle with the clutch in my lap to avoid looking over at Tripp again. Once the flower girl and ring bearer prance down the aisle, the music switches again, and the crowd stands.

I fix my eyes on Gage. His hands are folded casually in front of him. It’s obvious the moment he sees her, but I don’t turn my head. He doesn’t smile because he’s biting the inside of his cheek. His eyes shine, and he shakes his head like he can’t believe what twist of fate led him to this moment in his life.

If I ever get married, no matter how long we’ve been together, I hope my husband’s face burns with a blush and adoration like that when he sees me. I let out a slow sigh. I’ve tried to lock her up, but the hopeless romantic in me is still very much alive. I don’t let her speak without my permission anymore. But she’s there.

She wants very much for me to swoon over this dreamy wedding and picture myself having one just like it someday.

My eyes move an inch to the right when Gage looks down and covers his eyes with one palm. I should have grabbed a damn tissue. Warren places a brotherly hand on his shoulder. My sight is pulled another inch to the right when Tripp’s hand reaches up to swipe over his brow.

Dammit. Dammit, dammit,dammit.

His jaw flexes twice, the music builds, and my chest aches.

My grip tightens on the small clutch in my hands. My heart ticks like a stopwatch against my ribs, like it’s counting down the seconds until I pull my eyes away.

“Please have a seat.”

In unison, each guest lowers themselves to their chairs at the request of the officiant. My locked knees aren’t cooperating for some reason, and I’m left standing. The little girl seated next to me with her family grips her tiny fist in the skirt of my dress and tugs.

I shake my thoughts, scoop an arm beneath my thighs, and drop to my seat. I’m grateful for her quick interference, so I turn to her, and we exchange smiles. Hers is black around the edges, and I eye the half-eaten Oreo cookie in her hand.

“Do you want one?” she whispers in a sweet, earnest voice only little kids have.

“No, thank you. I love your bracelet.”

She proudly holds up her wrist to show off the string of mismatched beads. I lean down and pretend to inspect it withwide eyes as if it’s the most stunning piece of jewelry I’ve ever seen. Her dad, who sits on the other side of her, pats her leg with a gentle, shushing sound. We hunch our shoulders, cover our mouths, and silently giggle.

When I look back up, Tripp is staring right at us. His brows are slanted in a way that isn’t angry or pained. I think it’s longing I see. The officiant’s words sound distorted and distant while I hold his gaze. But I can’t stand it for long.

Once his throat bobs and I feel like I might cry, I sniff and tear my eyes away. We must have been looking at each other for much longer than I realized because, after finally turning my attention to the altar, the vows are over.

“I now pronounce you man and wife.”

Gage bends to hook his hands under Blythe’s behind and lift her into the air before the officiant is even done with his sentence.

“You may now kiss the?—”

They’re already kissing. The officiant laughs with a shake of his head. A series of cheers erupt from the small crowd as she loops one arm around his neck and throws the other, holding her bouquet straight up in the air. I clap and smile, devoting every ounce of my energy to not looking over at Tripp. I feel him still watching me. But I pretend I don’t.

The bride and groom are full-on making out by the time a twangy and upbeat guitar riff floods the outdoor space. Warren pulls a flask from the inside of his jacket, winces after taking a shot, and then passes it down to Tripp.

I can’t help but watch their exchange, despite promising myself I wouldn’t look over at him again. He smiles but shakes his head. My brows pinch together, while Heston reaches over to take the flask instead.

Johnny and June play on—singing something about a big-mouth woman and a long-legged man. The maid of honordramatically checks the time on a watch that she isn’t even wearing before throwing her arms out and picking up the skirt of her dress.

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