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I wanted it off my face, so I asked the stylist to pull the front half up. She’s securing it with sparkling barrettes that add to the overall effect.
“I wanted it all down. It’s so pretty when it’s falling across your shoulders.” She pouts.
“Well, I prefer it like this.”
“Why do you always fight me on everything? It’s my wedding day.”
I hold back from retorting that every day of my life has been about her in one way or another. Instead, I take a deep breath, focusing on the exhale.
I can do this. It’s one day. A few hours. I can treat her like a queen for this special event, no matter how much she annoys me.
I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve needed to remind myself of this fact. I came into town yesterday to meet Brent and spent last night with my mom and a few of her girlfriends, per her request. I’ve got one more day to get through—today—and then she’ll be on a plane with her new husband on their way to the Caribbean for a weeklong honeymoon. The good thing about her getting hitched is that, now, she’ll be more focused on Brent than on me. I hope.
“Hey.” Oakley’s smiling face peeks through the door. Everything inside of me relaxes when I see her. “Oh, Mads … your hair looks amazing.”
“Thanks,” I say with a smug look at my mother.
She narrows those cerulean eyes that are identical to my own in response.
“Simone is working her magic.” I wave toward the stylist, who’s still standing behind me. She’s placing a few more strategic curls into my strands.
Oakley beams at my mother. Celeste widens her smile back at my friend. My mom has always genuinely loved Oakley. In fact, I had to work to keep boundaries in place between my bestie and my mom often. Necessary boundaries. Mom always had a need to be one of the girls even if it encroached on my life and my friendships in the process.
“You look beautiful, Celeste,” Oakley dotes.
Celeste rises and pulls Oakley into her arms. “Thank you, doll. You look amazing too.” She leans back and brushes a piece of dark hair over Oakley’s shoulder. “But then you always look great. I love it when you wear your hair down.”
I roll my eyes when Celeste’s pointed stare lands on me. If Oakley knows she’s a pawn right now, she doesn’t show it. She’s always been better at tolerating my mother’s many moods than I am.
“Is Chase here?” I ask as Oakley steps back and my mom walks back to her throne.
“He’s grabbing our seats,” she answers, leaning closer. “He looks so hot in his gray suit.”
I smirk to cover up the disappointment I feel that I won’t be seeing Ollie in a suit tonight. I’ve thought about him a lot today and what it would’ve been like if he had come. I regret that evening at the pool, but never more than right at this moment. Because it stole him from me a few weeks too soon.
“Well, I’m gonna go grab my seat. I just wanted to say hi.” Oakley gives me a hug while being careful not to wrinkle my dress or mess up my hair.
“I’m glad you did. I’ll see you in a little bit.”
Oakley glances back at my mom. “I can’t wait to see you at the end of that aisle. You’re going to be a vision.”
Celeste’s eyes start to cloud with tears.
“Get out of here,” I order Oakley. “If you make her cry, it’s going to take another twenty minutes to fix her makeup.”
Oakley snickers as she walks toward the door, knowing it’s not an exaggeration. My friend’s stare lingers on my face for a few seconds with a look I can’t decipher. I narrow my eyes in question, but she just smiles and leaves the room.
“That kid … is the best,” my mom murmurs while blinking away the tears.
I nod. It’s the one thing we can agree wholeheartedly on today. “She is.”
Ten minutes later, I’m helping my mom step into her dress. It’s similar to mine with a strapless, fitted bodice, but my skirt skims my hips and lands at mid-thigh. Hers is billowy with a long, flowing train. It’s a pale pink color rather than the traditional shade of white. It’s not understated with all the lace and intricate design, but then Celeste never has been understated. And the aesthetic fits her personality perfectly.
“You look gorgeous,” I say honestly, watching her in the mirror. And she does.
She stares back at me, speechless for once. I’m reminded of how much we look alike, standing next to each other in the reflection. We’re less than twenty years apart in age. I’m two inches taller, but with a similar lithe frame. We have the same icy-blue eyes and identical blonde locks, though she gets her hair colored at the salon these days. Her nose is sharper while mine is more rounded. And my lips are fuller than hers, though she’s gaining on me in the plump department. I suspect she’s been getting filler, but she won’t admit it.
By the time the ceremony starts, the sun is setting, painting the sky with reds and oranges and pinks. It’s the perfect background, as if God himself set the scene. The minister stands at the front, next to Brent and Ed. Both are handsome in their dark suits with pale pink ties to match our dresses. There’s a breeze that helps to cool the late summer temperatures still heating the air.
