We run through the procession five times. Five. Anyone who’s seen a wedding movie knows how to do this. Even the priest looks bored when Danielle wants to go over it one more time.
Finally, we’re done practicing the lineup. My stomach grumbles and I think we’re going to go to the venue but nope, the photographer is here to take pictures. Is that a thing now? I’m glad I did my hair and makeup.
Forty-five minutes later, we run through the parking lot, dodging raindrops, and load into the cars. The venue is about half an hour away, and the rain slows things a bit. The hall is rather new, having opened two years ago, and is gorgeous.
I stop when I go through the entrance, stepping into a two-story foyer. The ballroom is directly ahead of us, and the large, double doors are closed tight with a sign on the door telling staff not to enter. A curved staircase sweeps around, the balcony running the length of the building. Deep-red, velvet carpet lines the stairs, and everything has a rich, country club feel to it.
The wedding planner beams and tells Danielle and Jake to close their eyes. The photographer snaps pictures while her assistant records the reveal. Even I’m feeling the anticipation when the planner slowly opens the doors. Danielle squeals with excitement and the bridesmaids start gushing on and on about how pretty things are. I hang back with my parents, letting the others go in first, then follow.
The lighting is low and everything is set perfectly. Okay, yeah … this is pretty fucking impressive. My mind wanders to how much each large centerpiece costs as I admire the satin bows tied to each chair. This looks like something out of a magazine, and I start to get a little bit more excited for tomorrow.
There is an open bar, after all.
Danielle goes through things with the planner and has nothing to change. I’d be surprised if she did since everything is so beautifully put together. I might not be able to ever afford this planner, but I want her business card just in case.
It’s raining even harder when we leave the venue and head to the restaurant. Mom is sure the sky will get the rain “out of its system” by tomorrow, but when Dad pulls up the radar, it doesn’t look like Mother Nature agrees.
I’m quiet throughout dinner, and Dad takes notice again. I brush it off as being tired, and check my phone between sips of wine. Ben still hasn’t updated his Instagram. There is nothing new on his gallery’s website either. I’m stopped with ways to stalk him. Well, legally stalk him via social media that is, and I’m not crossing that line anymore.
Mom goes to bed early when we get home. Jake, who’s spending his last single night away from Danielle, stays up for a bit with Dad and me, watching TV and trying to relax. Two hours later, he gets up and says he’s going to bed.
“You should too, kiddo,” Dad says and pushes himself out of the recliner.
“I’m not tired yet,” I say, knowing I won’t be able to sleep.
Dad waits until Jake goes upstairs to continue. “You’ve been saying you’re tired all day and now you’re not. What’s wrong, Felicity? You’re not your normal self.”
I sigh. “I’m fine, Dad. I will be, I mean.”
“Women don’t use the ‘fine’ word and ever mean it.” He sits next to me on the couch. “What’s wrong?”
I shake my head. “I got into a stupid fight with Ben, said things I don’t mean, and probably ruined everything.”
“You, say things out of anger? No way.” Dad gives me a smile. “Did you apologize?”
“I did, but not right away. And that makes it worse, I know.” I let out a breath. “But it’s fine. I’m sad, I admit that. I really really liked him, but I’ll get over it. I promise.”
“You know your mother and I met in college.”
“I do.”
“But I don’t think I ever told you or your brother about our first date. I took your mother to a frat party. I was so nervous I got drunk and then puked in her car on the way home. I was so embarrassed I never called her back, never asked her out for a second date. Then she called me.”
“To ask you out again?”
Dad chuckles. “No, to make me pay the cleaning bill for her car. But when I saw her again, I thought I’d give it one more shot and ask her out. She turned me down right then and there, but when I got home, there was a message on my machine from her. I took her out that weekend and the rest is history. My point is, people forgive mistakes. If Ben isn’t willing to forgive you for something as small as a ‘stupid argument’ then he’s not the right man for you.”
I let Dad’s words sink in and know he’s right. This won’t be the last time I say or do something stupid to piss Ben off either. “You’re right. Thanks, Dad. I actually feel better now.”