Page 78 of Last Night Was Fun
Emmy had been so wrapped up in getting ready, posing for ten thousand preceremony photos, and fulfilling all her last-minute MOH duties, that she really didn’t see Gabe again until the ceremony.
She walked down the aisle, a stone pathway scattered with white rose petals, arm in arm with Ben’s brother, the best man. It wasn’t until she stopped at the archway exploding with palm leaves and tropical flowers and turned around to face the guests that she saw Gabe sitting among them. He’d donned a soft gray linen suit with a white shirt and styled his hair into its customary wave. Like most of the guests, he wore sunglasses to combat the late-afternoon sun, but even behind the shades, Emmy could feel his eyes on her.
She gave him a tiny wave and mouthedHi.
He waved back and moved his mouth in shapes Emmy interpreted to sayYou look incredible.
She quietly laughed and gathered her satin skirt to step into position as maid of honor. Gabe’s words felt like a suit of armor when she caught a glimpse of a familiar face in the crowd. Jacob sat five rows back on the groom’s side. Emmy didn’t make eye contact with him, but she felt his eyes on her. His gaze landed differently than Gabe’s; something cooler and probing, perhaps laced with curiosity. Luckily, she had too much else to focus on to pay any mind to it. Namely, holding her bouquet as instructed (belly button high, tilted forward), trying not to sweat in the sun (impossible), and remembering to take Piper’s bouquet when she handed it to her and then hand it back to her before she returned down the aisle (no pressure; don’t ruin the photos).
The other bridesmaids fanned out behind her in matching dresses, all of them lined up inches from where the pool deck ended and the beach began. Only Emmy’s dress was of a different cut, hugging her chest and leaving her shoulders bare save for two thin straps. The long skirt was slit to her thighs on either side and let the gentle and merciful breeze move around her legs.
When her sister walked down the aisle, Emmy didn’t stop the joyous tears from blurring her eyes. She held Piper’s bouquet and listened to her and Ben exchange vows. Then there was an enthusiastic kiss, ecstatic cheering, and ten thousand more photos.
It wasn’t until cocktail hour, after she’d gotten lost in the billows of Piper’s skirt as she bustled it for her, that Emmy finally had a moment to catch her breath. And in that moment, Gabe slid up to her and handed her a fizzy pink drink, which she eagerly sipped.
“Thank you,” she told him and clinked it against the matching one in his hand.
“You’re welcome. You look amazing.”
The pink fizz tingled her tongue in a dangerously delicious tequila-laced bite. “Thank you. So do you.”
He kept staring at her like he was seeing her anew and couldn’t stop looking. It put a hot flare in her already warm cheeks.
“So, are you relieved of all maid of honor duties now that they’ve said I Do?” he asked.
Emmy scrunched her face. “Not quite. Still have to make a speech. And probably a hundred other things Piper will think of to ask me to do before the night is over.”
“Hmm. Is dancing on the list?”
“Let’s hope not.”
“What if it’s with me?”
She stilled with her glass pressed to her lips, poised to sip again. “Are you asking me to dance, Gabe Olson?”
“Indeed I am.”
“There’s no music.”
“Well, I assume there will be later.”
“I might be drunk later.”
“A prerequisite for dancing, naturally.”
She playfully smiled at him over her glass and took a much needed sip. The thought of twirling around in his arms or bumping and grinding or even doing the robot—whatever they were going to get up to based on the mischievous grin on his lips—had her dizzy already.
“Fine. I’ll save a slot on my dance card for you.”
“Much obliged,” he said with a little bow.
Emmy laughed, and when it came time to dance later, she was a little drunk, and he was, to absolutely zero surprise, an excellent dancer. Much better than her, and honestly hard to keep up with.
“Why are you so good at this?” she asked as he spun her around and reeled her back in as Van Morrison crooned a classic love song.
He pressed his hand warmly into her lower back and held the other up to lead her around the dance floor. “Would you believe my parents enrolled me in ballroom lessons as a kid because it was supposed to help with athletic performance?” He dipped her over backward and used the move as an excuse to pull her against his chest.
She laughed, dizzy with joy. “You know, I absolutely believe that.”
