“Have a little faith in me, okay? I watched you do it. I’ve got this. Go to bed.”
I acquiesced, thinking I wouldn’t be able to fall asleep. Not unless I knew the place cards were completely finished and perfect. Surely the uncertainty would keep me awake. But as soon as my face hit the pillow, I passed out. I don’t remember when Reece came to bed. I don’t recall him whispering in my ear, “Perfectly straight lines.”
***
You wanna talk about a beautiful bride? My sister was a beautiful bride. Almost too beautiful. She’s the only woman I know who looks airbrushed in real life. I stared at her more than I wanted. I couldn’t help it. She glowed and beamed and all the other stuff brides do on their wedding days. I suppressed the mild jealousy; I didn’t want to entertain any negative feelings on such a beautiful day. Light ocean breeze. Full sun. Everyone and everything sparkled. It was the fairytale she wanted.
And I was happy for her.
I saw little of Reece all day. He understood my absence and took up my father’s invitation to go fishing that morning. I thought Mom would kill them both—“They ought to be helping in some way!”—but honestly, what should men be doing on a wedding day? All the finer details were left to the women because, let’s face it, women were better at them.
Nicki bossed me relentlessly. She really only eased up during the actual ceremony. She and Brad wrote their own vows. Something about dolphins and sunsets. And forevers. I stood beside her listening, holding her bouquet, wondering how a girl who was so trendy and fashionable could say words that belonged on a cheesy airbrushed T-shirt from Myrtle Beach. I did tear up when Brad cried, though. I’m a sucker for man tears.
At the reception, I made sure Nicki had a plate filled with all the food my father paid for before slipping away. I’d check up on her later. She was busy receiving compliments and wouldn’t need me for a while anyway. I searched for Reece. He wasn’t at his table (yeah, we were assigned to different tables). He wasn’t on the dance floor. He wasn’t at the bar. I found my father instead.
“Hey, Puddin’ Pop,” Dad said, putting his arm around my shoulders. He pressed a beer-spiked kiss to my cheek.
“Dad, you know Mom’ll get mad,” I said, kissing him back.
“Your mother has agreed to leave me the hell alone for the day,” Dad replied. He took another swig of beer.
“It was nice of her to refrain from yelling at you and Reece about the fishing,” I noted. “She just bitched to me about it.”
He grunted.
“How was it?” I asked.
Dad thought for a moment. And then the smile crept stealthily across his lips.
“Just fine,” he said.
“Just fine?”
“Just fine.”
“Dad, I’m a girl. I need details.”
He chuckled. “I like your boyfriend, Bailey. Better than any of the others.”
“Me too,” I agreed.
“He’s a good man,” Dad went on.
“I know.”
“I trust him.”
I crinkled my brow. “That’s a weird thing to say.”
“Why? It’s weird that I trust him with my daughter?”
I paused. “Okay, maybe it’s not so weird.”
I ordered a cranberry vodka.
“So, how are you holding up?” Dad asked, pushing his empty beer bottle toward the bartender.
“Eh.”
“Just ‘eh?’”
“I can’t find Reece.”
“He’ll be around.”
“I’m exhausted.”
“Anyone working for Nicki would be exhausted right about now.”
“I stayed up all night fixing the place cards.”
“They’re beautiful,” Dad said.
I grinned. He didn’t take any notice of them. Men don’t do that.
“So how are you really doing, Puddin’ Pop?” Dad asked gently.
I stared into the crimson red of my drink and shrugged. Dad plucked it from my hand and led me to the dance floor at the exact moment the soft, strings-laden sound of a Tony Bennett song started.
My father may be a smelly, gruff fisherman by day, but he’s a dancing superstar by night. Well, nights that include weddings, that is. He pulled me close and moved to a throwback- style of cigars, fedoras, and old, hand-written love letters.
“Daddy?” I whispered.
“Hmm?”
“Shouldn’t you be dancing with Mom to this?”
“The Very Thought of You”—I’d heard this song a trillion times floating out of the back bedroom Dad used as his little workshop. He’d work on his model boat to Tony’s voice—no one else’s—and spend hours trapped in the past where love hadn’t yet turned to color but was still black and white. Where love hadn’t turned to TV but was still radio. Where love hadn’t turned loud and transparent but was still private, sacred, and quiet.
I couldn’t help but think how much we’d messed it all up.
“I wanted to dance with you,” Dad replied.
I was crying. I really didn’t want to. I didn’t want to feel sorry for myself that this wasn’t my wedding, that it wasn’t me who Daddy walked down the aisle today. I wanted to share that intimacy with my father—him giving me away to another man. I was jealous that Nicki experienced it first.
“Stop,” Dad said softly.
“I’m thirty-one, Dad,” I cried.
“And? You’re young. You have a great man. And you’ll have all this, too. Be patient.”
I snorted. “Haven’t I been?”
“Yes. So why change now?” he asked. “You’ve nothing to feel sad about today.”
I wanted to tell him he was wrong, but that wouldn’t be right. I didn’t have anything to feel sad about today. I had a wonderful man who loved me to pieces. I had a full life with friends who celebrated my successes and loved me unconditionally. I had parents who would do anything for me—yes, even Mom, as cold as she was. I was blessed.
I felt a light tapping on my shoulder and turned to see Reece smiling down at me.
“You mind if I steal your daughter away, Sam?” Reece asked.
“I do mind,” Dad replied. “But I’ll let you do it anyway.” He kissed my forehead and turned me to my date, then strolled back to the bar.
“Hi there, gorgeous,” Reece said, taking me in his arms.
“I missed you today,” I replied.