"Look," she says excitedly when I get into the house.
I squat down next to her. "What's up?"
She lifts the magazine to show me a picture of a dress—a wedding dress. "Look," she says again.
And it hits me—why she's showing me—and why she's so damn excited. "It looks like your mom's."
She nods frantically. "Can we go to look at it tomorrow?"
"NO!" Heidi shouts. "He can't see the dress before the wedding."
Her shoulders drop, so do the corners of her mouth. "I forgot about that."
"Babe, why would you want a dress that looks like your mom's? Why can't you just wear hers?"
And if you ever want to hear four girls gasp at the exact same time, say something like that.
***
Since Heidi mentioned the 'no seeing dress before wedding' rule, she won't let me in on much of the wedding planning, which is fine, because I have my own planning to do.
I pull into Mark's dealership and walk into his office like I own the place. He's not there, so I pick up the phone and press the few buttons until I can hear my heavy, creeper breathing over the PA system. I start beat boxing into the phone, making sure I spit more than necessary. "Yo, Marky Mark. Please come to your office immediately, there's a funky bunch of manly stud waiting for you."
I hang up and sit in his chair. Then I kick my feet up on his desk, lean back, and link my fingers behind my head.
He shakes his head when he walks in, trying to hide his smile. He takes the seat on the other side of the desk and jerks his head at my feet. "Feet off the desk, this shit's mahogany."
I scoff, but do it anyway. Leaning forward on my elbows I tell him, "The desk is shit, I'll design you a new one."
He raises his eyebrows. "About time. You did it for your future father-in-law years ago, I've been waiting for mine."
I steeple my fingers under my chin. "All good things come to those who wait."
He chuckles. "What do you want, punk?"
I lean back and cut the cocky attitude. "So you know how I'm getting married in a week?"
"YOU ARE? When did this happen?" he jokes with feigned excitement.
I throw a pen at his head.
"Yeah, what about it?" he asks through a smile.
I laugh, a mixture of humor and nerves—because that's what I am all of a sudden—nervous.
"So I was wondering—" My chuckle cuts me off. I shake my head to clear my thoughts, and try again. "I was hoping—" I do it again.
"Are you okay?" He's no longer amused, more concerned.
"Yeah." I rub my palms down my shirt.
"You're nervous? Why are you nervous?"
"I'm not nervous," I say in defence. "Who says I'm nervous?"
"Cam, you always do that... you get sweaty palms and wipe them on your clothes when you're nervous. What's up? Did something happen? You guys need money or something because—"
"No," I cut in, shaking my head. "It's not—" I sigh, and then wipe my palms again. Then I blow out a forceful breath, mustering the courage I need. "I came to ask if you'd be my best man."
His eyes widen, but he doesn't speak. He looks away from me, his body slumping with what looks like exhaustion. He scratches his head, while I sit here and wait for the moment of rejection. "If you don't want to—"
"No."
"Oh." My stomach drops to the floor. "Okay, I'll just ask—"
"No."
"Yeah, you said that. This is fucking embarass—"
"No."
"You can stop saying it now."
"No," he says, chuckling as he does. "I mean no, it's not that I don't want to. I'd be so—" He exhales a loud breath, and then finally looks at me. "I'd be so damn honored, Cameron. I'm just surprised is all. I didn't think that—I mean, there's absolutely nothing I'd want more in the world... but I have to be honest, I'm concerned about what your dad would say to you, I don't want him—"
"Stop," I cut in. "A, that asshole doesn't even know I'm getting married. I haven't spoken to him since he showed up at the hospital. B, even if he did know and had something to say about it, I wouldn't care. And C..." I wait a moment for the sweaty palms to kick back in. For the nerves to start. For my heart rate to increase. But there's none of it. Just that sense of genuine calm. "C," I continue. "You are my dad."
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
-LUCY-
"I can't believe this is the last night before you're someone's wife," Micky says.
"I know. I can't believe it either."
"I can't believe you didn't want a bachelorette party," Heidi adds.
Amanda scoffs. "Have you met Cam and Lucy? They're inseparable."