Page 111 of Just a Plot Twist
“Oliver’s watching Cinnamon like a hawk now, ever since she made Indie fall.” Sophie glances at Indie. “You okay?”
Indie nods. “I’m fine. I just hope Cinnamon cooperates.”
Did I mention that Cinnamon’s the ringbearer?
Dax and Indie came up with the whole idea, and Stella helped sew the actual ring pillow. She Velcroed it to a harness that Cinnamon is wearing. The adorable look is completed with a white, fluffy tutu, and white bows above her piggy tail ears.
“And Stella and Oliver have the ring situation under control?” I ask Sophie.
She nods. “Operation: Dog as the Ringbearer is ready.”
My phone buzzes with a text message. “Will you look at that and see if it’s important enough for me to read right now?” Really, all I care about is if it’s from Benson or not. We haven’t seen each other yet today—I’m not about to jinx my wedding day by allowing him to see the bride—but that hasn’t stopped us from texting each other sweet nothings.
Things like the text from two hours ago:
Benson:I bought you a hamburger and am sending it in with Sophie. She says you’re not in your dress yet, so I hope you can enjoy it.
Me:Benson, my almost husband, I would probably figure out a way to still eat it even in my dress. Just cover me in a plastic sheet and I’ll eat all the burgers.
See? He’s an angel to bring a ravenous, soon-to-be bride a burger, and, don’t worry, it was onion free.
And, then another text a little later:
Benson:I can’t wait until he pronounces us man and wife. I’m gonna kiss ya good.
Me:I’ve been obsessing over that thought.
Sophie grabs my phone off the counter. “It’s from Danica.” There’s a pause. “She says congratulations on your wedding, and she sent Indie with a bag of bobby pins and a comb just in case.”
Yes, Danica and I both know howspecialIndie’s hair can be sometimes.
“That’s sweet of her.”
Oddly enough, Danica and I hit it off when we met a few months ago. It’s been…low drama. Strangely refreshing.
The reverend’s wife, who is doubling as our wedding planner, peeks her head in the doorway. “Is everything a go on your end, Claire?”
“I’m so ready.” I grin at her through the mirror’s reflection.
“Okay, I’ll tell the organist.” She smiles warmly. “Congratulations again, my dear.”
Just a few moments later, the organ’s soft background music changes to the wedding march.
And that’s when I step out and wait my turn. The chapel takes my breath away with its gorgeous, understated décor. Swooping garlands of glycerin-preserved leaves in a magnificent, warm rainbow of colors, asters and dahlias in coral, peach, and bronze…it’s all so rich and calming.
First, Indie leads Cinnamon down the aisle. Cinnamon’s parading—waddling—like we have all the time in the world. That’s one nice thing about having an older dog, she usually has no interest in scampering about and is very stately and calm. Maybe a little too calm, as Indie has to encourage her to speed up. Then Sophie, as my maid of honor, in a gorgeous, burnt orange gown with a brown satin sash. And then it’s my turn, with Grandpa there to offer his arm.
Sophie was right, Grandpa’s eyes do mist up a little.
But as soon as I catch sight of Benson near the front of the church, in his deep, navy suit and navy and white striped tie, I amlocked in. His smile is like the beams of light shooting from the diamond he gave me.
I love him so much I could break in two and then solder myself back together from the sheer force of it all.
I float up the aisle, giving the best man, Dax, a huge smile. He’s gotten so tall. Once I reach Benson, Grandpa steps back to the front row to be near Grandma. I grasp Benson’s hands and turn to look out over the audience. There’s Grandma and Grandpa, Inez and her husband, and of course the entire Tate clan.
The minister begins the ceremony, using words that are so simple, yet so sacred that I want to memorize and seal them in my heart forever.
When it’s time for the rings, Indie bends to peel the little pillow off Cinnamon’s back. She takes in a sharp breath.
