“I love you, too,” he called out. “No getting arrested, Miss Snow!”
“Har har.” I was going to my parents’ house for the night. Danny was already here in town with Calvin, though he wasn’t invited. Girls only. Okay, except for my dad, who planned to hide in his room, watching a game. My longtime childhood friends Kate and Nell were coming over, along with a few of my mother’s best friends, who were more like her sisters. We’d planned to do floral arrangements, play a few games—they were going to drink champagne, I was not—and watch some movies—The Proposal or Maid of Honor—chick-flick stuff.
I waved at Max and smiled. There was this moment where I think he realized that my smile was a lie, but I turned and headed for the parking lot, where my mom was waiting to pick me up.
I heard the door of the plane close and the engines start up.
Everything will be fine, Lily. Everything will be fine as long as you don’t fuck it up.
“Lily, you look absolutely gorgeous.” The next morning, my mother preened over the white veil stuck to the tight bun on the back of my head while I finished my makeup. Today, I felt like a princess. I woke up late after a long night of girl-fun, the best part being watching them get hammered and act like total idiots, including my mother, who decided to show us dance moves from the seventies.
We’d finished up tying the ribbons on the floral arrangements we’d all made last night, and my father had taken them over to the church this morning.
I texted Max, but didn’t hear back from him until one-ish.
Me: how’d it go last night? Any unusual rashes? Incriminating photos?
Max: very tame evening. See you soon
Tame, huh? I found that hard to believe, but okay. As for me, the jitters were only getting worse. I’d had a nightmare of me standing at the altar in my dress, facing Max and Patricio in their tuxes. “Who do you choose, Lily?” they repeated again and again. “Tell us who!”
“I choose Max,” I’d say and then Patricio would begin yelling, “You are making a mistake, Lily! He will never stand by you! He is not loyal.” Max would simply stand there staring at me. Not a word in his own defense.
“Honey,” my father peeked into my bedroom, which was now their guest room, “the limo is here.”
I stood up, trying to keep my head on straight.
“Oh, baby. You look beautiful in that dress.” My father’s eyes began to tear. I wore my mother’s wedding gown. She and I were the same size—or more accurately stated—she’d been my size when she got married. She’d had to let the hem out a little because I was an inch taller than her, but that had been it.
“Thanks, Dad.” I kept my fake as hell smile stuck to my face, and I didn’t plan to let it go.
“Oh, honey, stop that. You’ll make her cry,” my mother warned and then looked at me. “Okay, Lily. See you at the church. Careful not to forget your bouquet and don’t wrinkle the dress.” She leaned forward and kissed my cheek. “Oh. And don’t forget to pause for the photographer when you come inside the church.”
My stomach turned to cement. Ugh. Photographers. I knew my mother had referred to the one we’d hired for the event, but I knew there’d be more, thanks to her “tight-lipped” friends.
“Got it.” I flashed a smile her way and took one last look at myself in the mirror. My brown eyes were a little puffy, but other than that, I looked flawless. I’d done an almost perfect job covering my scars and my long hair was pulled back into an elegant, smooth bun so I wouldn’t have to fuss with my long hair today. I’d leave the hair fussing to Max. Tonight. In bed.
During the short ride in the back of the white stretch limo to the church, my father became unusually quiet.
“Everything okay?” I asked.
“Of course.”
“Then why do you look like you’re going to a funeral?”
He patted my hand. “Someday, your child will grow up, make you crazy with worry, make you proud, and then you’ll be watching them get married. It all happens so fast.”
“Do you regret any of it?”
“Only having children.” He cracked a smile.
“Funny.”
“I regret not enjoying it more. We spent so much time concerning ourselves with you and your brother that we often forgot about our own happiness.”
“So you weren’t happy?”
“I was. I am. Thanks to your mother, because I always knew no matter what, she would be there by my side. Even through the worst of it.”
I tried to imagine the things they’d gone through raising the two of us. A son who would never walk and a daughter who made people stare.
“Well, you did a great job.” I petted the top of my bouquet—one white lily surrounded by baby’s breath, wrapped up in pink satin ribbon. “I’m talking about me, of course. John is an idiot, but there’s nothing to be done about that.” I cracked a smile.