Page 50 of Bridesmaid for Hire
“Well, we’re headed down to one of the firepits, would you like to join us?”
“Would love it,” I say. “Just waiting for the check.”
Haisley waves me off. “We already took care of it.”We already took care of it.I’ll never get used to this level of wealth where meals, week-long accommodations, and resort life can simply betaken care of.
“Oh, well thank you,” I say as I stand from my chair. I walk over to Maggie and hold my hand out to her. She takes it, slipping her fingers across mine.
It might not be real, but hell does it feel like it.
We follow Jude and Haisley down the stairs to an open space near the pool. Tiki torches light the way as well as clusters of fire pits with seating all around them. Jude and Haisley lead us to one that’s closer to the beach and we all take a seat. Maggie and I land in a loveseat across from Jude and Haisley.
I drape my arm over Maggie and bring her in close. She curls her legs up behind her and leans into me, placing her arm on my leg, looking so casually comfortable that for a second, I almost believe we’re a couple.
“Have you been here a lot?” Maggie asks.
Haisley nods. “It’s one of my favorite places ever. I remember the first time we vacationed here—my brothers and I had the best time. They were getting practically teens, and getting too cool to play with me, but that summer, we all swam in the lagoon, road WaveRunners, played in the sand—and we all just had the best time ever. Since then, the Saint Hopper has had a special place in my heart. I knew it’s where I wanted to get married and I’m really lucky that Jude agreed.”
He kisses the side of her head. “As long as we’re married, that’s all I care about.”
Look at that giant sap over there. Wonder if I’ll ever be in a position where love makes me say things like that?
“Since you’re a wedding planner, do you have your perfect wedding laid out in your head?”
“Yes, I do.” Maggie says, leaning her head against my shoulder.
“Can we hear it? Unless it’s too much pressure for you two.”
“No, I’d like to hear it,” I say as I pick up a strand of her hair and start twirling it around my finger.
Her thumb drags over my leg in a soothing touch suited more for an intimate moment, but then again, maybe she’s making up for her rant about my Rebels rituals from earlier.
“I grew up in Northern California, in a small town about an hour outside of San Francisco. There wasn’t much to our small town, but we did have an old historic district, where we preserved buildings from the early settlers. It was our one claim to fame:come see the old Wild West. Well, there’s a little white chapel there that has been preserved over the years. It has beautiful stained-glass windows, almost floor to ceiling, carved wooden pews, and a beautiful, vaulted ceiling that makes the chapel seem so much bigger than it actually is. Capacity is about thirty people, but I’ve seen it decked out in green eucalyptus garlands and baby’s breath, and it’s so heart-stoppingly beautiful that I know there isn’t any other place I’d rather get married.”
“Sounds dreamy,” Haisley says.
“The white chapel next to the old schoolhouse?” I ask. Since Gary still lives in Butternut, their small town, I’ve walked those streets several times, especially when he was trying to train for a half-marathon. I ran with him on weekends.
“Yes, that one,” Maggie says in a far-off voice. “The very first wedding I ever saw was there. The town librarian was getting married, and my mom is dear friends with her. I was too old to be the flower girl, but I remember sitting in one of the pews, which honestly looked like a log straight from the forest, thinking I wanted this experience to last forever. I loved the white dress. The flowers. The tears of joy. Everything aboutweddings made me happy, and if it made me that happy, it had to make others happy. So, I needed to be a part of it.”
“That’s so beautiful,” Haisley says.
I didn’t know that about Maggie, what jumpstarted her passion for weddings. I don’t know, I guess I just assumed it was something she enjoyed because she was a girl—what a sexist thing to think.
Of course Maggie would have a backstory about why she loves weddings so much. That’s the kind of person she is. There’s a purpose behind everything with her. Sometimes it’s really annoying, like her drive to turn me on by showing me how she can flirt, but then there are moments like this, where it’s truly endearing.
“What about you?” Jude asks. “Do you have your dream wedding planned, Brody?” There’s a bit of a chuckle to his voice so I give it a thought.
“Isn’t it obvious? Rebels stadium. Wouldn’t have it anywhere else.” As if I just insulted her, Maggie sits up to look me in the eyes, making me and Jude laugh. I pinch her chin. “Nah, princess, it would be at the little white chapel. What you want, I want.” And I don’t know if it’s the talk of weddings or the drinks at dinner, but I decide to take that moment. I lean into her and gently kiss her on the mouth.
I feel her stiffen under my touch only for a moment before her mouth melts against mine.
And what a fucking mistake because, Jesus, those lips. I forgot how delicious they are.
How perfect they are for my mouth.
How goddamn sweet.
I forgot what it was like to be trapped within the taste of her mouth and the feel of her body pressed up against mine.
