Beautiful Beginning(53)

            I let out a breath. “Thank fuck. Do we have them all?” I walked over to the van to see how many remained inside.

            Will looked down to the garments in his arms. “Four,” he said.

            “Six,” Max counted, panting.

            “There’s four back here,” I said. “How many were there again?”

            “Fourteen. All of us, Henry, the ring bearer, your dad, Chloe’s dad, Chloe, the girls, George, your mom, and the flower girl. Right?” Will asked, counting down on his fingers, still hunched on the asphalt.

            I nodded. “Let’s get the fuck out of here.”

            This time, nobody fought over who got to drive.



            I felt like I’d run a marathon by the time we got back to the hotel. We pulled up to valet and Kristin met us at the curb, ready to take over from there. She assured me that the worst of the water had been dealt with, and asked if I wanted to see how the preparations were coming. I declined, wanting nothing more than a shower, a nap, and for it to be time to meet Chloe at the altar. I looked down at my watch: three hours to go.

            Will pulled up as we stood there, paid his driver, and stepped out of the cab. He held up his arm to show us the bright blue bag swinging from his fingertips.

            “The rings are here,” Max said, bumping my shoulder with his. “Makes it feel a bit more official, wouldn’t you agree?”

            I nodded, too relieved to even mock Will for his stupid swagger.

            “Well, look who’s the only one that hasn’t fucked anything up today—” he said just as his toe caught a crack in the concrete and he pitched forward, crashing to the ground. The bag flew from his hands, the boxes flew from the bag, and of course, my newly polished ring tumbled out and onto the driveway.

            I’m not sure who dove onto the asphalt first, but in the end it was Max holding out my wedding band, a deep dent in the strip of platinum running through the center. I was annoyed, sure, but after the day I’d had, it seemed a perfect reminder for the rest of my life: Remember that time you almost ruined your wife’s wedding dress? Better to feel that dent, I suppose, than her wrath for the next sixty years.

            “Doesn’t look too bad,” Max was saying. He placed it on his finger, straightened his hand out in front of him. “Can hardly see it, really.”

            We all nodded.

            “Know what would make it completely go away?” Will said.

            “What’s that, William?” Max asked.

            His answer was simple: “Alcohol.”



            I didn’t get completely shitfaced. It was my wedding day, after all. But after a couple of drinks with the boys, I felt better than I had all week. And I was ready to get this fucking show on the road.

            It was strange to get ready alone. Showering, shaving, dressing in the empty suite. For any other big event, Chloe would be by my side, happily chatting about whatever was on her mind. But for the biggest event of our lives—our wedding—I was preparing solo. I’d put on a tuxedo dozens of times in my life, eventually getting so comfortable wearing them that I barely glanced at my reflection before leaving the house. But here, as I stared back at myself, I was aware that Chloe would look down the aisle at me, walk toward me, agree to marry me. I wanted to be exactly what she’d always pictured her husband would be. I tried to straighten my hair with my fingers, made sure I hadn’t missed a spot shaving. I checked my mouth for any stray toothpaste, tugged at my shirt cuffs.

            For the first time all week, I was the one texting my mother.

            Any doubts I’d had about Kristin were gone the moment I stepped outside and saw the ceremony setup. Rows of white chairs draped in sheer white and Tiffany blue ribbon stretched in front of me; white flower petals covered the aisle. A sea of tables draped in crystal and silver and more Tiffany blue covered the lawn area. Chloe’s favorite flowers—orchids—were everywhere: in vases, clinging to the branches of huge potted trees, hanging in fragrant clusters from the tent ceilings. The sun was just starting to set, the guests were all seated, and I stole a moment to steady myself, gripping Henry’s shoulder as I took it all in.