Page 117 of Valley Girls
She couldn’t help but grin. “Hey.”
“You look nice.”
“It’s a bathing suit cover-up.”
“Oh. Well.” He blinked. “You still look nice.”
She nodded. “Thanks. So do you.”
“Oh, this?” He looked down. “It’s a bathing suit cover up.”
She laughed and tossed the ribbon between them. “What is this anyway?”
“They walk together to the chapel. We’re um, supposed to stand here until they come get us and cut through the ribbon.”
Rilla squinted and frowned. “Are we ... are we anobstacleto love?”
“Not us!”
“Right?”
“We’re the most pro-love people out of everyone,” he said.
Rilla did a fist-bump into the air. “Pro-love. I love it.”
“We can’t be an obstacle.”
“Never.”
But they didn’t look at each other anymore. And they gripped tighter to the ribbon between them—not an obstacle, but true love’s ability to cut through obstacles.
Rilla held tight to the flat ribbon, melting a little in her damp hand. She closed her eyes, feeling Walker’s heartbeat in the line. Louder than the people and the cars passing on the road. Louder than the rushing Merced and the wind through the trees. Louder than her mind. At least for a moment.
She wished she could have a picture of this. Whatever it was. In a way that would capture her body underneath the dress and the wind on her skin and the feeling of Walker’s broad and muscled body facing hers, in the same wind and the same layer of clothes. Maybe it was all the talk of love. Maybe it would fade. But right this second, it felt like the closest she’d ever been to saying she was in love with someone.
She opened her eyes, both startled and unsurprised to find Walker watching her. Her face. Her eyes. His gaze locked with hers and they stood there, watching each other. Their heartbeats thrumming in the white ribbon stretched under the watching granite.
Walker took a step, ribbon sagging, his lips tight and eyes full of something that made Rilla terrified and excited and ...
And then Celine and Andy rounded the path.
They both straightened, and pulled the ribbon tight.
Rilla swallowed and tried to look calm, turning her attention to the bride and bridegroom.
Andy looked a little like Rilla felt.Trussed up.
Even though his suit—cream, with a white shirt and smoky purple tie—looked like it fit impeccably, it immediately betrayed his athletic-not-aesthetic body. His long hair looked trimmed and smoothed back; but it was still long, shaggy hair on a man who probably needed a good sit-down with a barber.
But Celine? Celine looked like the goddess she was. She walked with her arm in Andy’s, holding a cluster of white and purple flowers in her other hand. Her dress was long sleeved and close fitting. A frothy chiffon and lace paneled skirt swirled from her knees as she walked. It was the perfect balance between the idea of a classic French woman and a rock climber who traveled the world and peed out of her harness.
Behind them, a crowd had gathered, walking and talking and playing sweet, lulling melodies on guitars and mandolins and ukuleles. Celine and Andy led them on.
They paused before the outstretched ribbon, and Celine smiled at them before Andy sliced through it.
Rilla felt the cut. And found she missed the connection.
Walker caught her eye, and they waited as the procession passed before falling in at the back. Caroline wasn’t there yet and neither was Petra. Amid the lilting guitar and the happy chatter, Rilla felt a sudden dive in her chest of loneliness and longing for something she didn’t know how to put words around. She didn’t think it was just Walker, but something bigger ... beyond ...
