Page 13 of Never Really Mine
“Leave her,” I say. “She’s got plenty of people to look out for her. We’ll bring her along to photos and the first look. You’ll just have to grab her before the ceremony. Right?” I say, looking at Megan. Fallon probably won’t feel convinced unless her best friend says so.
“Right. We’ve got her,” she agrees.
Fallon gives us a more determined nod. “I’ve got my cell, so just call me, but… shit, I have to go. The cake people are here.” She calls out a goodbye to Presley, and she’s gone with a gust of air and sweet smelling perfume. She definitely is good at compartmentalizing if she needs to, it seems, and puts on a killer brave face.
There’s a creak, and the door to the dressing room opens, Josie’s head peeking out. “Get in here,” she whispers.
I turn around because she's probably looking for Nikki. I’m about to call her over when Josie raises her voice. “No, dingbat,you! Get your sexy ass in here!”
I glide over, and she yanks me by the hand, pulling me into the room. Marissa, the photographer, stands in the corner, already snapping pictures. Marissa used to work with me at Chrysalis Photography before branching off and starting her own studio just over a year ago. When Josie asked me to be in the wedding, she asked me for a recommendation since I wouldn’t be able to do photos and also be her maid of honor. Marissa was an easy recommendation.
Lori looks gorgeous in a navy blue floor-length gown, her slightly graying hair curled and pinned loosely at the nape of her neck. Her makeup is tastefully done. She’s pulling Josie’s gorgeous dress out of the bag.
Jess helps, making sure the dress doesn’t snag on any zippers. Her deep emerald colored dress accentuates her bump and contrasts with her strawberry blonde hair. Her hair isn’t nearly as red as Josie’s but it still has a soft red hue to it.
Josie releases my hand to step into her dress. I subconsciously reach up to my right bicep, trailing my fingers over my tattoo yet again. Goosebumps flare over my skin at the touch, the same thing that happens every time I touch it.
The dress fits Josie like a glove. A wide, over-the-shoulder neckline, with delicate lace across the bust in a criss-cross. Thefabric hugs tight to her thick curves until it flares at the waist, trailing with lace flowers scattered to the floor.
Lori zips the dress and takes a step back, covering her mouth with her hand as her eyes shine with tears. Jess smiles softly, her eyes sliding up and down Josie’s body in awe.
“Don’t cry, please,” Josie begs, her own eyes filling with tears.
“I’m not,” Lori blubbers, turning her head down and patting at her eyes with a tissue.
Marissa snaps photos in the background as I adjust the layers of Josie’s dress so it lays perfectly. When I rise, Josie throws her arms around me in a tight hug. “Thank you,” she murmurs, words thick with conviction.
I nod, my throat tightening. I never would have guessed that by setting her up on a blind date with Andrew I’d gain a lifelong friend, but I’m so thankful that I did.
With a few finishing touches to her makeup and hair, we head back into the sitting room to wait the few minutes before taking pictures. Initially, Josie wanted to do the first look in the more traditional way—when she walked down the aisle—but I came up with the idea to do something similar to their first official date.
The blind date photoshoot.
Andrew will be blindfolded. Josie won’t, as we don’t want to mess up her hair and makeup, but she's promised to keep her eyes closed.
I lift the train of Josie’s dress as we walk onto the dirt path. Josie’s eyes are pinched shut, and thankfully, Andrew stands only five or six paces off the path. Both of their families, as well as the rest of the bridal party, are scattered in a half circle behind Marissa. I don’t take the time to see the specific people, my focus on Josie. I adjust her positioning, feeling a warm sense of deja vu as I turn her so her back is pressed against Andrew’s, watching as their hands find each other.
Andrew starts bouncing on the balls of his feet and I chuckle under my breath, pressing down on his shoulder to stop his movements. He did the exact same thing during the first photo shoot I arranged for them. I turn around and offer Marissa a thumbs up. She nods gratefully and I skurry off to the side where Megan stands.
We count down from three, and the pair turn around. Josie’s eyes open. Andrew yanks off the blindfold from his face. His brown eyes comically widen as he takes in his bride-to-be.
Of course, as a florist herself, Josie insisted on creating her own bouquet and Andrew’s boutonniere, but left everything else up to her trusted assistant, Kenzy. She’s done an amazing job with the flowers and the glimpse of the arch I got as I walked around the reception and ceremony area earlier.
My gaze strays from their initial reactions, catching Beau’s attention from across the circle. His shoulder length dark curls are neatly pulled back into his signature man bun. The groomsmen all wear khaki pants, crisp white button down shirts, and terracotta-orange ties to match the flowers. Beau’s brown eyes hold mine, never wavering until I turn away first.
I do what I do best for the rest of the photos—ignore Beau. I’ve ignored the pull I automatically feel when I’m around him for years, so what’s another day to add to the list?
8
BEAU
To be honest, I always thought Andrew would be the last of us siblings to settle down and get married. Though, when he met Josie, I had a feeling almost immediately she was the one for him. She matches his chaotic energy, all while being her bubbly self.
I watch Marley from across the small room we’re all huddled in before the ceremony starts. Voices carry through the closed doors, signaling the arrival of guests and nearing ceremony. Marley sits at a small table with Jason and my niece Lennie. Lennie has always had a special bond with Marley, probably because she’s the only young girl she’s been around until Josie came around.
Marley fixes a hair that has come loose out of Lennie’s curled hair, tucking the pinned flower back in place. I watch her closely, dreaming of how good of a mother she will be someday.
The lingering thought is cut off by Gramps sitting down next to me, huffing a little as he adjusts in the chair. He sets his cane so it rests against the table next to me.
