Wish Come True (The Blogger Diaries Trilogy Book 3) (34 page)

When I asked her to do it once more for my actual wedding, plus Buffy, Renee, Brooke, and my mom’s hair, she jumped at the opportunity, needing this kind of event as a credit for her cosmetology license. As instructed by Angie, we all showed up with ‘dirty hair’, which she said was much easier to style than a freshly washed mane.
 

Wearing jean shorts with my lacy white and baby blue garter around my thigh, and a button-up pink plaid shirt so I wouldn’t have to pull one over my head and risk messing up my do, I applied my makeup in the brightly lit dressing room of the parlor while Angie pinned, curled, and sprayed every strand into place. When she was finished, I handed her a bundle of miniature porcelain calla lilies that she wove through one side of the style. I’m just not a veil kind of girl.

The rest of the ladies each took their turn in the hot seat, Angie styling their hair while I did their makeup, recalling the rules I’d learned during my pageant days, making sure our faces wouldn’t look washed out under the bright lights. When all of us were done being made up and primped, Angie gave us hugs and left, because she had another bride’s hair to do that afternoon.
 

“Did you bring the stuff?” Buffy asks conspiratorially, raising her eyebrow and glancing down at my hands.
 

“Yeah. We need to get it on before Jason’s mom comes in. If she catches us before it’s all done, she’ll throw a hissy until we wipe it all off,” I say quickly, rummaging through my makeup Caboodle until I find what we need. We hurry out of the dressing room and into the main room of the parlor, and I run over to the door to lock it. “Whatever you do, do not open this door. Especially if it’s Jason’s mom. Everyone allowed in here right now is already here, so please don’t unlock this door for any reason until we’re done getting dressed and ready.” The girls around me, including Tanya and her assistant, all nod.
 

“First order of business… this.” I hold out the gleaming bottle of black nail polish for everyone to see, and the first thing I notice is the mischievous look in my niece’s eyes.
 

“You know she’s going to shit herself, don’t you?” she asks, receiving a stern, “Brooke!” from my mom.
 

“What? It’s true.” She shrugs.

“You’re in a church, Tadpole. Watch your language,” Mom tells her, reaching over to swat her playfully on her butt.

“That’s why we have to hurry up and get it on and dry, then get completely dressed, bouquets and all. That way she can’t make us take it off. We wouldn’t want to risk getting nail polish remover on our dresses, now, would we?” I smirk.

I love my soon-to-be mother-in-law. God knows I do. But that little woman can be one controlling, opinionated bulldog when she wants to be. If she knew I want all my bridesmaids and I to have matching black nails, which I think looks super cute against the cream-colored calla lilies, she’d throw a hissy fit. Shit, she even gave me hell when she saw it on my toenails last night, knowing I’m wearing open-toe heels today. I was able to cool her jets a little by telling her no one would see them since my wedding dress is floor-length, leaving out the part it would soon be on my fingers as well.

We all sprawl out in the middle of the floor, my babies thinking it’s hilarious that all the grownups are down on the ground with them, as they giggle and crawl all over us while we try to carefully apply the polish to our nails. Avary reaches for my garter and tugs, making little grunting noises as she tries to get it off me, so I slide it down my legs and put it around her like a headband.
 

As each chick finishes getting painted and dry, they move into the dressing room to change into their dress and heels. I wait as long as possible after mine are done, making sure they are completely dry before attempting to get into my ivory dress, which Buffy helps me step into, trying our best not to wrinkle the freshly steamed satin. When the halter is clasped and the back is zipped, I sit down so she can buckle my strappy cream shoes, the low heels easy for even me to walk in.
 

Suddenly, the door handle to the parlor jiggles, and we all hold our breath as if whoever is out there will somehow be able to break the lock. When there’s a light knock, Buffy goes over to it to move the dark piece of fabric covering the small, narrow window and peaks out. It must be someone important, because she closes the curtain back and opens the door.

In walks Aunt Pat and her daughter, Ginger, carrying the vases holding all of our bouquets, right on time. I stand up and walk over to the table they set them on to take a closer look.
 

“Oh, my gosh, they turned out beautiful!” I cry, wrapping my arms around Pat’s shoulders. “You did an amazing job.”

She had taken the ivory satin ribbon I’d found at Hobby Lobby and wrapped the long stems of several calla lilies into bundles, and then had used the thin black velvet ribbon to form a crisscross pattern down their length. The results are clean, classy, and elegant, and with our black-tipped fingers wrapped around them, it’ll give us all just a touch of my quirkiness—the girl who likes to wear Payless shoes with my Coach bag and Marvel Comics T-shirts. I like what I like. What can I say?

“You look wonderful, honey. We were just dropping these off really quick, since I knew you’d need them for your pictures. We need to run home and get dressed,” she tells me, giving me a one-armed hug, and they quickly exit the room.

“Now what?” I ask the room; we still have about an hour and a half before the ceremony begins.
 

Tanya speaks up. “Now, we take wedding party photos. I’ll start with all you girls, and then go take some with the guys. We do the full party together after the wedding.”

“Sounds good. Where should we do them?”
 

“I found some places outside, and also inside the sanctuary, where I can pose y’all in some really fun shots.” She turns to her assistant. “Will you go tell the guys not to leave their dressing room? We don’t want to risk the groom seeing the bride. Tell them we’ll come get them when we’re ready to do the groomsmen shots.”

The assistant returns, and holding open the door, she lets us know the coast is clear.
 
We spend the next forty-five minutes taking pictures outside in the beautiful spring weather, inside the church, where we take a really cool shot of me on the floor in my dress, with it spread out all around me, as Tanya snaps photos standing on the balcony above. The photo shoot ends after taking fun pictures all over the sanctuary, my favorites being the few we take of me playing the piano while my bridesmaids act as backup singers. I especially love the one of just the three of them bracing their elbows on the piano as each girl either covers their eyes, ears, or mouth, copying the Three Wise Monkeys portraying ‘See no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil.’ I might have to print that one out and hang it in the house.

We scamper back into the bridal parlor, making sure not to be seen by anyone, since people have slowly started to trickle in. Hopefully, being mother of the groom, Barbara will stay with Jason the whole time before the ceremony instead of venturing into the girls’ side. As I catch a glimpse at the time, seeing we only have about thirty minutes until everything begins, my nerves start to get the best of me, and I really don’t feel like hearing any crap about something as insignificant as my nail color. I might turn into that bridezilla I was wondering about a couple weeks ago.

Tanya tells us she’s going to take the groomsmen pictures and the next time she’ll see us is when we’re lining up to walk down the aisle. My heart gives a tremendous thump at that thought, and when the door closes behind her, I collapse onto the couch to take a breather from all the excitement.
 

There’s a knock on the door, and my blood pressure skyrockets, but then Buffy opens the door to my smiling big brother, and I sigh with relief. Tony lumbers into the room carrying Abigail, followed by Aspen, Amanda, and Alex. They make the perfect distraction, my nieces dancing around the room with Josalyn, Alex picking up and snuggling Avary, and Buffy snaps a few pictures of all the shenanigans while I watch them all play.
 

Before I know it, there’s a light tap on the door, and Renee answers it after seeing it’s the wedding coordinator the church provided.
 

“All right, everyone. It’s show time!” she says, clapping her hands together. “Everybody who isn’t part of the wedding party needs to make their way to their seats, and all my ladies need to follow me. The guys are already in position at the altar.”

“Oh, God,” I breathe, and my mom takes a hold of my hand.

“You’re all right, doll,” she tells me, rubbing my bare upper back with her other palm.

I take deep breaths as I watch my brother pick up Avary, knowing he’s taking her to Jason’s parents to walk down the aisle.
 
When he and his kids file out the door, the coordinator motions for us to follow them, and soon, she’s lining us up in the proper order outside the wooden and glass doors of the sanctuary.

I try to peek through one of the windows to watch as my dad walks my mom to the altar instead of to her seat in the front pew, wanting to see the beginning of my sand ceremony. I had never heard of it before until I read about it in a bridal magazine a couple months ago. On a tall, round table up on the altar is a glass jar, and six small glasses, three filled with white sand, and three filled with black sand. Right now, each of our parents will pour one of the glasses of sand into the jar, alternating the two colors, and when we are pronounced husband and wife, we will make our way up the steps and pour our own sand into the jar, topping it off with a sealing lid, so I’ll be able to keep it forever.
 

I can see Jason’s dad holding Avary on his hip as he pours his glassful into the jar, and then the husbands help their wives down the steps, and my dad heads back up the aisle toward me. He looks so handsome in his dress uniform, and you bet your sweet ass he’s been bragging constantly that he can still fit into it, even after retiring from the Navy over twenty-five years ago.

When my hand is wrapped around my dad’s bicep, his warm hand squeezing it to him tighter over the back of mine, I watch as first Brooke then Renee start down the aisle, the wedding coordinator whispering, “Go,” when it’s each person’s turn. Buffy goes next, which leaves no one else in front of me except my little girl, who looks beautiful in her ivory satin dress, holding her ivory basket decorated with the same black velvet ribbon wrapped around my bouquet. Josalyn’s been holding the coordinator’s hand this whole time, and when I wasn’t spazzing out inside my head trying to take in everything going on, I caught glimpses of her awe-filled face, hearing her tiny voice tell Brooke, Renee, and Buffy how pretty they look, and how I look like ‘Cinderelly’.
 

The woman bends down to Josalyn, and I hear her tell her, “Just like we practiced,” and she lets go of her hand.
 

I see everyone’s face light up with a huge smile as my big girl makes her way down the aisle, reaching her little hand into the basket and pulling out a single petal to carefully place along the path. She stops to smile and wave at my brother, Jay, and my nephew, Bret, her favorite cousin, before continuing her flower girl duty. When she gets to the front pew, I see her turn around, and then I hear the entire crowd burst into laughter as she heads back up the aisle to place a few more petals after seeing she had missed a couple spots. Seeming satisfied with her work, my little perfectionist then walks back to my mom and takes her seat next to her.
 

Immediately, the organist begins playing Pachelbel’s "Canon in D", and my hand tightens even further around Dad’s arm. “Don’t let me fall, Daddy,” I whisper, adjusting my sweaty grip on my bouquet. I’m surprised the calla lilies haven’t withered from my nervous abuse.
 

“I’ve got ya, baby girl.” He pats my hand then kisses me on my cheek, his tidy mustache tickling me and making me smile.
 

The congregation suddenly stands as a whole, and next thing I know, my dad is walking me down the beautiful church aisle, decorated with calla lilies and strings of black beads wrapped around the end of each pew. I hardly know anyone here, so each time my sight finally lands on one of my brothers, my nieces and nephews, and eventually my mom, a little bit of my nervousness lessens. Especially when I spot Marky and Kim, who give me blinding smiles and excited waves, which makes me giggle.

Finally, I’m down what seems like a mile-long aisle, and I look up to see Jason grinning while wiping his eyes. He looks gorgeous in his long-tailed tux. I watch as he turns around to say something to his groomsmen, who all chuckle and nod at each other, before Jason turns back toward me. And then I’m in front of him, my dad placing my hand in Jason’s before kissing my cheek and then patting him on the back.
 

“What was that all about?” I whisper to him, my heart finally chilling out a little having him near.
 

“They made a bet I would cry when I saw you. The jackasses won,” he replies just as quietly, and I lift my face up to grin at the handsome men before me.
 

To the far right, Bubba, who I’ve never seen in anything but jeans and fishing shirts, looks wonderful as he stands next to a towering Big John, who looks red-carpet perfect in his tuxedo with the white of his shirt against his chocolate skin. And then there’s Logan, who flew in from California yesterday, just in time for the wedding rehearsal. I don’t think there ever was a man who looked better in a uniform. His ‘Marine stuff’, as I called it yesterday, making him give me a dramatic growl, is utterly perfect, not a speck of lint anywhere in sight, as if the particles themselves are scared to come anywhere near the big, badass giant of a man.
 

As Jason leads me to our spot in front of the minister, the rest of the world suddenly disappears except for the three of us… until it’s the complete opposite. The ceremony becomes a blur. I know I repeat things and respond how I’m supposed to, hearing Jason do the same, but I’m mostly aware of other things. The emotion quivering Jason’s voice. Big John’s bright white teeth smiling from over Jason’s shoulder. The way Logan stands perfectly still, making me imagine that’s what he looks like in formation with his Marine brothers. Bubba’s perfectly manicured goatee. The photographer snapping photos from the second-story balcony. Avary baby-babbling from the front pew. Buffy fidgeting near me, as if her feet are hurting in her heels.