Page 156 of Ripped & Shipped
It’s been nearly ten months since the overwhelming evening on Aiden’s farm when the townspeople declared their love and admiration for all things Fab-U-lous. At first, no one really knew how to treat me after that night. It would have been comical if it weren’t so completely awkward. Okay. Okay. It was pretty comical.
I’d walk into Bean There Done That, and Riley and Madeline would be their usual perky selves. That was fine. But the patrons around tables would look up as though someone tolled a bell announcing my arrival.
“Oh! Heya, Ella Mae!” someone would shout.
“Ella Mae, do you want to join us?” another person would offer, even though it was obvious they were here on a special coffee date.
“Hiiii! Ella Mae!” would come from somewhere across the other side of the shop. More greetings would follow that one.
“Ella Mae’s here, everyone!” someone would announce, a little too late, but with gusto.
I wanted to wear a paper bag over my head, and trust me, even with the recent fashion of upside down dresses, that paper bag’s never a good look on anyone. I can’t blame the townspeople. We all could have used a manual with the title:How to Include the Town Outcast After Your Grand Gesture.I teased Chris that I just might take him up on his offer to move to Columbus if the weird vibes continued.
But they didn’t.
Eventually, people went back to ignoring me, just in a much friendlier way, or they’d say hello without such pomp and circumstance. The girl group tried to invite me to girls’ night—an event I always secretly wanted to attend. We all tried. And I give us an A+ for effort, but halfway through, I told them I was missing Chris—because I was. And they all commiserated about their early months of dating and excused me to go find my man.
Meg does a slow turn in the middle of the room and when she finishes, she looks me over.
“You’re the prettiest Maid of Honor ever. People won’t even notice me with you standing next to me.”
I smile. “That’s silliness. It’s all about the babe in the white dress. Even Joe is just your accessory today. No one will be able to take their eyes off you.”
Meg giggles. Her friends from Pennsylvania walk into the room. Two of them are in the wedding. I guess Meg made a ton of friends when she worked out on the east coast after college. Joe’s sister, who lives somewhere else in Ohio, is also in the wedding. On his side are his best friend, who Meg tells me is a mortician, two cousins, and Chris.
The four of us started going on more double dates after Chris and I came back from Los Angeles. Joe and Chris have formed a friendship. Chris still hangs out with his lifelong friends regularly, and they have their guys’ nights the same nights their wives have girls’ nights. When there’s a co-ed event, I tag along. Everyone does their best to be friendly. I’m probably the most comfortable with Jayme. Always was. But the rest of them are trying, and so am I.
The wedding coordinator knocks on the bridal suite door and announces, “It’s showtime, Meg. May I come in?”
Meg’s mom opens the door and we’re all ushered downstairs to a spot just inside the french doors at the back of the house. There’s a brick patio with three steps leading down to the yard where Meg will walk to Joe.
I peek through the glass to see the groomsmen. Well, I’m not interested in the mortician and the cousins, obviously. It’s Chris who catches my eye, looking so scrumptious in a tux. His beard is trimmed short and his hair has a little product in it. I can barely focus on the instructions the wedding coordinator is giving us. He’s just so distracting.
I finally look around at the guests in white wooden folding chairs, the string quartet set off to the side of the arbor, and then the groom. Joe looks a combination of nervous and overjoyed.
My eyes drift back to Chris. He’s scanning the back of the house. I can tell the moment he sees me through the glass panes of the french doors. His face slowly breaks into that smile I love, and then he winks and his tongue darts out to wet his lips. I think my knees might buckle and give out. It’s been a year since that night he saved me at the Big Boy and he still has the same effect on me —probably even more so now that I know the heart under all those muscles and rugged good looks.
Weddings make people dream, and I’m definitely dreaming of the day I’ll be the one in the white dress, walking toward my man to say, “I do” to whatever it takes to make him my forever.
The music starts and the first two bridesmaids walk onto the patio, down the steps, and onto the runner, one right after the other. Joe’s sister follows them. Then it’s my turn. I step out of the house and my eyes immediately lock onto my soldier. He’s the same calm, steady presence as always. And the way he’s looking at me makes me feel like I could take over the world—a goal I’ve left in the dust this past year.
No more world domination for this boss babe. Though, I still have my social media. I post about three times a week these days, giving most of my time to a photography business I started a few months after our trip to LA.
I make my way down the runner, never taking my eyes off Chris. Is this what it will feel like on our wedding day? I know I’m here for Meg, and I’m all about being the best Maid of Honor ever for her. But at this moment I’m giving myself permission to dream, something I’m doing a lot more of lately. Hope had her way with me, and now I seem to be addicted to hoping and believing in my own sweet ending.
I used to strive for success and notoriety, like a dying woman gasping for her very breath. But something shifted, and now I just know. It’s gonna be so, so good, this life of mine. And I’m allowed to have my own happily ever after just as much as anyone else.
I reach the back of the garden and join the rest of the wedding party. Chris leans over just a touch so we can see one another, and mouths, “You look beautiful.” He puts his hand over his heart, and I think I blush. I mouth back to him, “You look pretty beautiful yourself.” I lightly lift my eyebrows with a promise of showing him just how beautiful I think he is after this ceremony is over.
The music shifts and Meg steps out through the french doors. The guests rise from their seats and turn to watch her walk toward Joe. I glance over at Joe for a split-second. He’s beaming and a tear tracks down his cheek as he watches Meg walk toward him. I turn my eyes back to Meg who has a smile on her face like none I’ve ever seen.
The ceremony goes as usual. Some words from the pastor, vows, the exchanging of rings, and finally, the kiss. Joe lifts Meg’s and his enjoined hands into the air and says, “We did it!” The crowd bursts into laughter.
Meg and Joe run down the aisle toward the house and we all follow, my arm looped in Chris’. Guests file out of their chairs and mingle while the staff at the venue do their magic, changing the setting from wedding to reception. Large tables are wheeled out, chairs are rearranged around the tables, and a dance floor is set up right near where the ceremony took place. The whole transformation takes under five minutes.
We’re already taking photos in the living room. We’ll take more outside shortly. I look out the windows. The sky has a few more clouds than it did this morning. Nothing unusual for this time of year. I’m sure we’re good. I just worry for Meg. She put so much into planning every detail of her wedding. I want it to go perfectly for her.
Meg and I hug, and I hear the click of the photographer’s camera. I pull back, “You are married!”
