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“Yes. Don’t worry about me. Look, Larisa deserves a great wedding and most certainly a drama-free one. I’m not going to lie, I’m not happy that Evan is here and … with her. But what’s done is done. We’re all adults. I knew that sooner or later I’d have to face them as a couple. I just didn’t think it would be at my best friend’s wedding,” I tell her.
She rubs my arm in an effort to comfort me, but it doesn’t help.
All I can do is stare at Evan and Carol, now seated somewhere in the middle row, side by side, heads close to each other, talking and smiling. An icy and painful grip forms at the top of my chest, making it hard for me to breathe. It’s funny how the disappointments of the heart can cause physical pain. It’s as if emotions can take shape and pierce you or even damage your very body.
Weird how it only happens when you’re sad.
The wedding planner approaches us from behind. “Alright, ladies, it’s time. Just like we rehearsed, alright? You ladies will go first, separately, of course! Then Clem will follow behind as the flower girl!” she adds, joined by a nervous laugh.
We nod and get ready to start the ceremony. Clem emerges from somewhere behind the refreshments bar where I know she’s been hiding to FaceTime with her new boyfriend. A teenager now, she looks sweet and joyful, radiating a youthful calm.
“Hey! Are we ready, then?” she asks, her words a bit slurred because of her new braces.
“Yes, darling. Here’s your basket of rose petals. Just like we rehearsed, alright?” Jo tells her.
“Sure, mom!” Clem says.
“Uh-oh. Leave your phone with the wedding planner, please. Dalton can stay here!” Jo tells her.
Clem rolls her eyes a little but does as she’s told. “Fine…”
“If you wanted him to be here so badly, you should’ve invited him,” Jo jokes.
“I did! He’s in Paris with his parents. His mom is getting a new nose and—”
“Alright,” Jo interjects. “Now’s not the time. The wedding is about to start! Larisa and I will go first, and you’ll follow behind, alright?”
“Okay, mom. Wish me luck!”
“Good luck, darling!” we both tell Clem before lining up to take our spots in the procession. Jo is joined by her husband, Jacob.
Meanwhile, I’m left to try and process the fact that I’m about to walk down the aisle with none other than Chris Evans.
I knew that he was going to be one of Gianluca’s groomsmen and that he’d be accompanying me, but actually doing it in real life is proving far more difficult than I thought.
The actor steps closer to me and, very gallantly, offers me his arm. He’s a tall man with broad shoulders, a gorgeous physique, and very gentle baby-blue eyes.
Standing next to him, I finally understand why some people seem to be born to become famous movie stars.
He has that je ne sais quoi. That X-factor. That indescribable charm that is simply magnetic.
“Good afternoon. It’s Emmy, isn’t it? I’m Chris. So nice to meet you!” he introduces himself to me as if he’s not one of the most famous men in the world.
“Yes. It’s Bemmy. Memmy. Emmy!! Gosh … my name is Emmy. And you are Chris Evans,” I mumble and stumble.
“That’s my name, yes.” He laughs.
It’s so surreal to be next to him.
We start walking down the aisle, my arm linked with his. Somehow, even though I’m arm-in-arm with one of the most handsome, most famous, and most desired men in the world, my eyes are glued to one person—Evan.
He’s looking up at me, surprise in his face.
Surely, he was not expecting to see me casually strolling with Captain America.
Carol reaches out and takes his hand as if to show me that she won. Evan is hers. I try not to let that small gesture get to me and walk on.
Evan’s eyes burn through me, his gaze a flame that pierces my heart. He looks me up and down and fixates on me with his stare. All the while Carol is trying to engage him in conversation. But she’s unsuccessful.
