Page 83 of Forked (Frenched 2)
I’d never let him go.
#
“Well…what do you think?” Mia turned away from the full-length cheval mirror in the bedroom designated as the bridal dressing room at the villa and faced us.
“Oh God.” Erin cupped a hand over her mouth. “I’m going to cry and ruin my makeup. You’re so beautiful.”
Mia’s lovely pink lips curved into a smile. “Thank you.”
I opened my mouth to say the same, but found my throat so tight I couldn’t speak. She was beautiful, but even more than that she was happy. And considering it was Mia, she was remarkably calm. Her smile was serene, her hands steady, her shoulders relaxed. The room, with its large windows overlooking the olive grove, where everything was set up for the ceremony, was airy and suffused with sunlight, making her pale skin glow rosy and gold. She looked so peaceful, much more peaceful than I’d ever seen her look before anyone’s wedding, let alone her own. Nary a hive nor hiccup.
“Oh, Mia, I’m so happy for you.”
“Thanks. I’m happy for you too.” Her smile widened. “I can’t believe it, but I’m actually fond of Nick Lupo.”
I laughed. “You’re on cloud nine, you’re fond of everyone right now.”
“True.”
“And this is your day—we can be happy for me when you get back.”
Mia’s lifted her chin. “If it’s my day, then I get to feel anything I want—and when I look at you and see how happy he makes you, and how good he is to you, I feel all warm and fuzzy about it. And you can’t stop me.”
“OK, fine. You win. Be happy for me.” I fussed with her hair a little, moving some loose strands off her face. She’d wanted to wear it down, so it was loosely knotted and spilling over one shoulder, echoing the lines of her elegant ivory chiffon gown. Sleeveless, the neckline dipped to a scandalously low V in the front (I could never wear anything like it, but Mia’s smaller chest was perfectly suited for it) and all the way to the waist in back. There was beading at the top of each shoulder and around her slim waist, and the hemline was mermaid style. She hadn’t wanted a veil, so nestled in her wavy brown hair were a few cream- colored flowers picked this afternoon from the villa’s extensive gardens. Standing back to take in the full vision, I grinned at the way her little toes peeked out from beneath the hem in her sandals. “You’re perfect. Absolutely perfect.”
“Good, because I think it’s time.” Mia glanced out the window again and took a deep breath. “Looks like all the chairs are full, and I hear music.”
“Are you ready?” Erin asked, reaching for her hand.
“More than ready.” Mia reached for my hand, and squeezed. “Thank you for being here. I love you both so much.”
Erin and I joined hands to complete our little circle. “We love you too,” I said. “Lucas is the luckiest man in the world. I can’t wait to see his face when he gets a look at you.”
#
The villa’s front courtyard was set up for the reception, and Mia had chosen décor that echoed the colors of the Provençal landscape beyond it. Tables for eight covered with ivory or taupe damask cloths, sprigs of rosemary or thyme on each plate, centerpieces of lavender bouquets, and candles of various heights glowing in the twilight. Even the air smelled romantic—full of herbs and floral notes that made you want to drink it like honey. The day had been hot, but had cooled to a comfortable temperature, and a light breeze ruffled the tablecloths.
Behind the villa, beyond gardens of wildflowers and a row of lemon trees, twelve rows of chairs were set up on either side of a gravel path. At the end of the path, which was lined with votive candles, stood the Officiant, and beyond him, the olive grove.
Erin and I waited near the lemon trees with Mia’s little half-sisters, who were serving as flower girls. Three guitarists strummed softly as Lucas’s family was seated: his former movie star mother, a strikingly beautiful woman on the arm of her husband, a handsome man ten years younger; and his father, who resembled an older version of Lucas in a sort of shaggy-haired, aging-rockstar way. Next, Mia’s stepfather and mother were seated, and finally, the groom and his two brothers appeared in front of the guests. They wore dark blue suits, white shirts and ties in a deep color Mia called aubergine.
I smiled when I saw how happy and handsome Lucas looked, his usual scruff barely visible, his incorrigible dark waves tamed with some kind of pomade, possibly loaned to him by Nick. (Honestly, the man traveled with more hair products than I did.) Erin and I exchanged a quick smile and hand squeeze before she started up the dusty path, and I fought tears watching the pretty lavender dress float behind her. When she was halfway to the front, I began to walk up the aisle, praying my heels didn’t sink into the gravel.
Immediately I sought Nick in the crowd, and my heart fluttered faster when I saw him smile at me. He wore a lightweight beige suit, white shirt and checkered tie, and his dark eyes shone with love and pride as he watched me. God, he was so handsome— for just a second I entertained the fantasy of taking a detour up his row and straddling him in his chair.
Mia’s mother dabbed her eyes as I glided by, and then I locked eyes with Lucas, whose expression was adorably nervous and excited at the same time. I winked at him and took my place next to Erin. The music changed to something slightly more dramatic, and everyone stood in anticipation of the bride.
When she appeared at the foot of the path, murmurs and whispers floated through the crowd. She’s so beautiful, look how radiant she is, I’ve never seen her so happy… I’d seen her only minutes ago, but as she came up the aisle on the arm of her father, she looked even more ethereal and lovely. Erin and I reached for each other’s hands simultaneously and held on tight as Mia walked toward Lucas, her steps sure and determined, even in the gravel.
I glanced at Lucas, and a lump formed in my throat as I watched him touch a thumb and finger to his eyes, fighting tears, and then giving up and allowing a couple to fall. In contrast, Mia was bright- eyed and smiling when she reached him, and again I marveled at her grace and composure. I hope I’m as relaxed and confident on my wedding day as she is.
The service, conducted in both French and English, was only about twenty minutes long, simple but beautiful. Even the parts I didn’t understand sounded like poetry. All too soon it was over, and Mia and Lucas were pronounced husband and wife. They kissed, and when Lucas lifted Mia right off the ground, the crowd erupted.
The guitarists struck a few buoyant chords, and the bride and groom took a moment to hug and kiss the wedding party before heading back down the dusty aisle, hand in hand, dancing and laughing and smiling as if they’d never stop.
#
Later, after dinner had been served and cake had been sliced, toasts had been made and dancing had begun, Nick took my left hand and squeezed it. We were sitting at a table near the dance floor watching Mia and Lucas sway gently in each other’s arms, and I said a heartfelt prayer of thanks that everything she’d wanted for this day had come to fruition. Every detail had been perfect. Even the weather cooperated, cooling down even more as the sky darkened and a breeze picked up, carrying the scent of sunflowers and lavender across the courtyard.
