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Chapter 25
RACHEL
Lastnight’sdinnersucked, and it didn’t get any better after Seth and I finally returned. Having two quickies definitely helped me get through it though. And when I returned, I was happy to see that Alex switched seats with me so I could sit with Hunter and Lucas, far away from my mother and nearer to my father.
If learned anything from last night’s dinner, it’s this: I love Diana. Dad’s new girlfriend is amazing. She adores Maria. She even created a little Maria song while Seth and I were in our hotel room. I don’t know how Dad found her, but I hope he never lets her get away. She’s a keeper.
However, Mom and I didn’t clear the air when I returned. My dress was also pretty wrinkled from Seth and my shenanigans. I have a feeling Mom knew exactly what we were getting up to, and I don’t care. That’s a her-problem. Not a me-problem. If she wants to ruin her wedding weekend by fighting over every little thing I say, do, and wear, then bring it on. I’m officially ready.
“You okay?” Alex asks while taking my hand.
I smile at him and straighten in my seat. “Perfectly fine.”
We’re right now sitting in our seats, waiting for the bride to come waltzing down the aisle. The venue is beautiful. We’re on the hotel’s rooftop with a wonderful view of New York’s skyline. The rooftop is also a garden, displaying a variety of roses and other vegetation. The altar is decorated with pink flowers and eucalyptus. Bryan and his groomsmen are all dressed in black tuxes with burgundy bowties. I don’t think I see one guest not dressed appropriately for the occasion. I suppose everyone read the wedding website. Good for them.
As the harpist plays something pretty in the background, I can’t help wondering about my parent’s wedding all those years ago. I smile while looking at Dad, sitting a few chairs in front of me. Diana is leaning her head on his shoulder. Were they ever happy? I feel like they were, but as they got older, everything became about making rent and making sure I got to college. I can’t remember when my parents laughed together. Did they have a fancy wedding like this? Or was it a courthouse wedding followed by a reception at a local bar? Who went to their wedding?
Maria whimpers and I bounce her in my lap. She’s scowling at the altar. I think she’s bored, which is fair, since there’s nothing much for a baby to do at a reception. Thankfully, we came prepared. I brought a large bag filled with little rattles she can shake while we wait for Mom. I give her one and her scowl immediately leaves. She smiles while shaking her toy. A few looks are cast my way and I stifle the need to roll my eyes. Maria isn’t making that much noise. She’s not screaming or crying. I feel like everyone hates children. They say people need to have them, but then are annoyed when they do.
The harpist’s tune changes and then I see, one after another, bridesmaids walking down the aisle, dressed in glittering gold dresses and holding bouquets of pink flowers. I can’t help but frown as I watch them slowly walk down the aisle. I don’t know any of these women. Are they Bryan’s sisters? Daughters? I try to ignore the fact Mom never asked me to be a bridesmaid. I tell myself I’m busy with school, work, and Maria. There was never any time for me to help plan a wedding.
Still, it hurts.
I thought Mom wasn’t doing bridesmaids. This is her second marriage after all, and she’s in her early fifties. Honestly, I’m a bit surprised she’s doing all the stereotypical wedding things. One would think I would have been asked to be a bridesmaid.
Everyone “aahs” when the ring bearer walks down the aisle, flashing a bright smile while he holds a small basket with a death grip. He looks to be about five years old. His blond hair is slicked back. When he makes it down the aisle, he hands the basket to the best man and scurries into his mother’s lap, who is sitting in the second row.
Then, the flower girl comes dancing down the aisle, also about five years old. Her eyes are swollen. She must have been crying. There’s chocolate smeared all over her lips and cheeks, so they must have bribed her with something sweet. She throws the pink flower petals on the aisle while twirling around. Her tiara glitters in the sunlight.
And, of course, I can’t help wondering if Mom would have asked Maria to be a flower girl if she was a little older. I shouldn’t be thinking this way. It’s not nice. But I can’t help wondering if I belong here. Mom was happy when I RSVP’d, but was she happy to have her daughter at her wedding, or because she wanted to save face?
I think I know the answer and I really don’t like it.
“Everyone, please rise for the bride,” the officiant says.
The harpist’s music changes again as we rise, and I watch as Mom appears at the end of the aisle, dressed in a glittering mermaid dress that hugs her curves in all the right places. No one walks her down the aisle. She smiles at each of us. The photographer takes several pictures. I try to smile at her, but she turns away at the last second.
I really don’t belong here.
The ceremony goes by quickly. Mom and Bryan read their vows, but I can barely pay attention. Every time Maria moves, shakes her rattle, or makes any sort of sound, I get a stern look from one of the guests, making me wish I didn’t come. After the whole dinner fiasco, I read the stupid wedding website. Children and babies are welcome. So why do I feel like I am being a bad guest.
And, once again, Maria isn’t crying, screaming, or fussing.
Thankfully, the ceremony ends after about fifteen minutes of talking. Bryan and Mom kiss and then we are ushered out of our seats and toward the servers standing near their podiums, waiting to serve all of us a ton of alcohol.
I know I need at least three glasses of wine to get me through this.
“So, how long do we have to stay?” Lucas asks before taking a very big sip from his whiskey neat.
I sigh and take a look at the wedding program I received before the ceremony. “Now is the cocktail hour, then it will be dinner followed by some speeches—”
“Speeches?” Seth groans.
“Then the first dance, followed by cake cutting, sparklers, and a shoe game.”
“Do we have to do anything?” Hunter asks.
I purse my lips, trying to think of what the shoe game is. I don’t know all the wedding nuances. “I don’t think so,” I say after a few seconds.
