Page 5 of Forever Finds Us
“Everyone’s lookin’ at me,” I whispered to Aubrey. “And isn’t she s’posed to wait till after they say ‘I do’ to toss the flowers?”
Aubrey shrugged.
Seriously. Why was every person in attendance staring at me? Only one head still hadn’t turned in my direction, and that was Brand Lee’s. Like, the guy hadn’t even twitched.
Whatever. I’d never caught a bouquet before. If anybody else wanted it, they could pry it from my cold, dead hands. Everyone laughed at the irregular wedding etiquette. The bride shrugged and grinned, and said to her groom, “You knew I was weird before you asked me to marry you. Deal with it.”
Maybe it was a little sappy of me, but I believed the old wives’ tale, that if you caught a bouquet at a wedding, you’d be next to get married. So yeah, I was envious of Bax and Bea.
But not about the kid part, though. Bax’s teenage daughter, Athena, was a great kid, and she looked so pretty in her purple and white dress, standing up next to Bax at the altar, but Bax and Bea were also raising his brother’s little boy, Stuey.
Dixon Lee, the youngest of the Lee brothers, had disappeared after an unsuccessful stint in rehab a while back, and then a year ago, he reappeared, abandoned his surprise infant son with Bax and Bea, and disappeared again. No one knew where he was now, whether he was dead or alive.
Normally a hoot and a great boss, Abey had been pretty torn up about it. Her mom even more so. Abey might’ve been the youngest in her family, but she’d told me Dixon was her mama’s baby. He’d never been responsible or a productive member of society. Bax, as the eldest Lee, carried the weight of the world on his shoulders, and when his first wife passed, that hadn’t gotten better, but he’d found Bea and had been loosening up lately.
That left Brand Lee. The middle brother. The well-off owner of Lee Construction up in Sheridan who’d just moved home to be closer to family. He’d never been married that I knew of and didn’t have kids. He was kind of mysterious, or at least it seemed that way to me since I knew all about his siblings and nothing about him.
Now, Brand watched his nephew Stuey wiggling in his grandma’s arms next to Abey, and a little smile curved the edge of his lip. Brand was clean-shaven, but I could see the hint of stubble filling back in.
Stuey was cute and all, with his waving brown hair and chubby, dimpled cheeks, but I could do without the sticky hands and wailing cries of babes in my life. Little Stuey stood on his granny’s legs and peered over her shoulder. His baby blues landed on me, and he smiled and waved. Lifting my hand and scrunching my fingers discreetly, I wondered why I’d never really wanted kids. Did that mean there was something wrong with me?
I mean, not that I could do much about it now, single and in my forties. My five sisters all had kids. You’d think that’d make my mama and daddy happy, but they were back in Oklahoma, still praying for me to jump on the domestic-bliss chain gang.
Hope they brought kneepads to church.
Stuey flopped down onto his granny’s lap, finally facing forward, and Aubrey bumped my elbow when she noticed me fidgeting and chewing on the cuticle around my thumbnail. I crossed my arms tightly across my chest to stop myself, and a memory of the old SNL skit filled my head, the one with the nerdy high school girl who was always sticking her hands in her armpits and then she sniffed them.
The preacher droned on, “Do you, Beatrice Baker, take Baxton Lee to be your….”
Hm. Brand has a really nice neck. Like, the guy’s built. It’s clear he works out, or maybe he stays fit because he runs a construction company. I thought he was just the suit in charge, but it looks like he gets pretty physical. His neck is smooth. The short, golden-brown hair there is sexy.
Biting my bottom lip hard enough to draw blood, I stared at the back of some guy’s neck and found myself wanting to lick it. My leg started jumping, my finger tapped out a one-two-three against the side of my thigh, and my usual affirmation sounded in my mind: You are enough. You are not too much.
Aubrey elbowed me in the ribs this time.
Right. Pay attention, Roxi. It’s not like every wedding isn’t the same. I rolled my eyes. You’ve been to 567 of them. By now you’re practically ordained. Always the bridesmaid, never the bride? Five times had to be some kind of record. Isn’t there a movie about that, a professional bridesmaid?
The preacher wrapped things up. “By the authority vested in me by the state of Wyoming, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may now seal your promise with a kiss.”
Bax swept Bea up into his arms. She threw hers around his neck, balancing on the tips of her bare toes to press her lips to his. But then she reached down and hiked her long, lavender skirt up her legs, Bax lifted her, and she wrapped them around his waist. The flowing fabric bunched and draped itself over Bax’s crisp Wranglers, and they attacked each other’s mouths.
Cheers and whoops erupted from the crowd. Everybody stood, so I followed suit, trying to wiggle the underwear out of my butt crack without anyone noticing. Finally, the flexing and releasing of my ass cheeks did the trick, and I clapped in relief.
Leaning down closer to Aubrey, I whispered, “These pantyhose are makin’ my butt itch.” If I wasn’t wrong, a little tear had escaped her eye. My comment made her laugh, which had been the point of me making it.
Aubrey and her boyfriend, Rye, had talked about marriage, but Aubs had been married before. It hadn’t been a great experience to begin with, and then her husband went and got himself killed overseas when he was in the Army and left her with two teenagers to raise alone at the time. But Rye was nothing like Aubrey’s former husband. Rye was kind and patient and all in for a life with Aubrey, even if she never said yes to his repeated proposals.
She would though. If I knew my best friend, and I did, she’d say yes soon. She just had to get over herself first.
Their love was the kind I’d longed for my whole life.
I hated to complain—actually, I kind of loved it—but growing taller than nearly every person I’d ever met by the time I hit seventh grade hadn’t set me up for social success in high school. The only thing my height had been good for was guaranteeing me a healthy dose of insecurity and a place on the girls’ basketball team.
Boys? Dating? Yeah, being six-feet tall wasn’t the way to any boy’s heart. Most teenage boys were insecure, too, and if they had to look up at their date, it kind of ruined the romantic vibes. I’d brought out the little-man syndrome in every guy I’d liked since I was thirteen. It was my curse in life and probably the root of all my self-doubt.
How the hell was I supposed to be swept off my feet when no man I’d ever dated had been able to lift me?
The party moved around the lake to where more chairs and tables had been set up. Big speakers surrounded a small beach and sandy area, and everyone was taking off their shoes and stowing them underneath their chairs.
