My Big Fat Fake Wedding(89)

I press a kiss to her forehead. “Violet, I . . .”

Weak. I am so fucking weak as the words try to sneak out again. She opens her eyes, and beneath her heavy lids, I can see her hopefulness. But I’m too scared that if I say them, I’ll be jinxing things.

So I punt. “I’ll be the guy at the end of the aisle tomorrow. I’ll be your husband.”

Once upon a time, those words would’ve terrified me, sent me running for the hills screaming faster than a defensive lineman chasing me down the field. Tonight, I can’t wait for tomorrow.





Chapter 22





Violet—Saturday—Wedding Day!





The sound outside the choir room is just short of chaos, a cacophony of voices talking and string music playing. Okay, so the orchestra is here. I guess I’d kind of hoped they’d just forget to show up or something. That probably means the news crew is here too.

I lean against the wall, alone for just a moment after all the hair and makeup fuss I’ve been pampered with today. I know it makes me sound ungrateful, but I really just wish I could sit down or breathe fully. For some reason, doing some yoga stretches sounds like a brilliant idea, except I’ve never done yoga in my life and starting doesn’t seem prudent when I’m in a dress that fits me like a glove.

So yoga’s out, but I think I could actually sit down and not pop a seam or cut off the circulation to my lower half. Maybe it’s the lack of food, though I may never eat an egg again in my lifetime, or that I haven’t anything but coffee and water since this morning, or that the shapewear’s elastic has given up on the losing battle of holding me in. Whatever it is, a chair sounds like bliss, and isn’t that the simplest pleasure?

But before I can attempt sitting, the door opens and Abi comes in, looking like she just crawled her way through a frat party. “How’s it going out there?”

“Let’s see . . . your triplet cousins have been hit on by half a dozen men, two of whom may or may not be your cousins from Europe, your Aunt Sofia is defending the front pew of the church with a rolled up umbrella and a look that makes me think your ancestors fought in the Colosseum, and the camera crew looks scared to even approach her. On my family’s side of the church, my father still looks like he’d rather be getting a salt ‘n vinegar enema than be here. You’ve heard a mullet described as business in the front, party in the back?” She grins, the giggle already coming. “It’s like that out there too . . . business on the right with Dad’s stuffed shirt friends, and party on the left with all of your crazy family. But other than that, your wedding plan’s going off just as you wanted, perfectly!”

“Plan,” I chuckle ruefully, sighing. “You know, I had the perfect plan? But somehow, all this craziness seems apropos, don’t you think? Does the wedding planner need anything?”

Abi shakes her head. “Nope, that’s not for you today. She’s top-notch, not scared of anyone, my family or yours, and has everything prepped, ready, and decorated. I’ll remember her to refer brides to at the flower shop for sure.”

There’s a knock at the door, and a shaky voice on the other side calls out, “Violet? Are you decent, baby?”

My eyes go wide, and I’m grateful when Abi tosses me a blue choir robe that I can pull on quickly without messing up my hair or makeup. “Come in, Papa!”

Papa opens the door, and his smile when he sees me makes this all worth it. “Oh, my dear, you look beautiful.”

I look down at the shapeless blue robe, laughing a little. “Papa, you can’t even see my dress.”

“No need. You’re always beautiful to me,” Papa reassures me.

He looks so handsome in his black suit, strong and healthy for the first time in a long time. I know it’s the excitement, but he looks . . . alive again. “It’s not the dress, or the church, or any of that that makes this day for me. Violet, it’s you. To see you happy, the love in your eyes, the honor of walking you down the aisle. Honey, you’ve given me the gift of a lifetime. Thank you.”

I smile, trying to find words, but my throat’s closed up, and Papa leans forward, kissing me with feathery light kisses on both cheeks. And suddenly, all the craziness is worth it. I’m this close to making his dream come true. I can handle a little extra fanfare if it’s for Papa.

“Now, I’ll get out of your way. You need to get ready, and you’re going to cry and ruin your makeup if I stay here any longer. Your grandmother would skin me alive if I did that!”

“Oh, Papa, stop!” I laugh, still wanting to cry but smiling through it. “I’ll be ready on time.”

“You’d better be. As handsome as Ross looks, if you’re late, there’s going to be a stampede of young women trying to get up there to marry him in your place!” Papa teases as he walks out the door.

In the silence that follows, I look over to see Abi wiping carefully at her eyes. “What?” she asks when she sees me looking. “There’s a reason I didn’t go for smoky eyes today. I knew I’d end up looking like a raccoon if I did. I went straight for the dramatic fake lashes, so I’m good. Now, let’s finish getting you ready before one of your cousins steals Ross right out from underneath you, literally. What’s left?”