Page 53 of The Beachgoers
Peace.
With each step, Lauren must see that dove. Must see the rays of afternoon sun shining through the stained-glass windows on the side walls. She must feel the sea air waftingthroughthose open windows. Must see the flickering bank of candles in an alcove. When she gets to the altar, her maid of honor takes her bouquet, and her father lifts her veil back over her face, then leaves a light kiss on her cheek.
It’s the moment that unhinged her only minutes ago in the bridal room.
The moment she’d said she couldn’t do.
Couldn’t get through.
Didn’t deserve.
Lord knows what’s going through her mind as she turns to Kyle then. But shedoesdo it. Dressed in a white gown purchased months ago—before an unexpected affair with another man, before a painful breakup, before heart-wrenching tragedy—Lauren steps beside her groom. It’s as if she knows this is the only way to get through everything.
Just put one foot in front of the other.
Look forward, not back.
She stands beside Kyle at the altar now. Kyle in his formal tuxedo. Kyle, whose own eyes look moist as he whispers something to her, something no one can hear.
Facing the priest, they stand side by side. Kyle does something more, though. He takes Lauren’s hand in his. Holds that hand as though it might be shaking.
“Please be seated,” the priest then tells the guests.
Behind Lauren and Kyle, there’s shuffling and shifting as one hundred twenty people get comfortable in the pews.
As one hundred twenty people watch this wedding.
Watch the couple standing at the altar—as the groom never lets go of the bride’s trembling hand.
