Beautiful Beginning(41)
in and taken charge.
“You’re a dick,” he said back. I smiled as I pulled out of the parking
lot.
Saturday afternoon in San Diego meant traffic, a lot of it. We’d been
lucky enough on the way in, but it had definitely picked up by the time we
pulled on the freeway. Max was insisting I was going the wrong way when his
phone rang.
“Yeah, Will,” he said, and then paused before putting it on speaker. “Go
ahead.”
“Which one of you two idiots was supposed to close the van door?”
“What?” I asked, and then looked up to the rearview mirror. Sure enough,
one of them had been left open and was swinging back and forth on its
hinges.
“Fuck!” I shouted, and it was as if the world suddenly shifted into high
speed. Cars appeared out of nowhere, veering, honking, tires squealing past
us as I tried to make my way to the side of the road. In the rearview
mirror I saw the breeze catch the edge of one of the bags, curling it like
it weighed no more than a candy wrapper. Up and back down. Up and back
down. Max fumbled with his seat belt before vaulting to the back, arms
outstretched as he reached for the endangered garment. But it was too late.
We hit a small bump and it was just enough for the wind to lift the entire
stack, letting them hover in midair before they were gone, sliding like
dominoes out the door and onto the asphalt below.
It was pandemonium. I swore. I cut off a huge truck as I veered into the
far right lane and came to a skidding stop at the side of the freeway. I
wrenched open my door, shouting for Max as we both jumped out, watching in
horror as cars flew down the two-lane highway, the garment bags scattered
along it.
“Over there!” I yelled, spotting the larger of the bags near the median,
the one that contained Chloe’s dress.
Will’s cab came to a screeching halt just behind us and we split up, each
of us moving in opposite directions, sprinting and dodging through traffic
to scoop up the dresses one by one and drag them back to the side of the
road.
Cars honked all around us and the air filled with the pungent scent of
tires skidding on asphalt. Above it all my pulse hammered in my ears, and
my only thought was to get to Chloe’s dress and bring it back. I tried to
avoid thinking about what failure would mean.
I ignored a particularly angry string of curse words shouted at me from a
Benz and managed to make it to the median in one piece. I looked at Chloe’
s bag, frantically searching the exterior for any damage. It seemed fine,
intact except for a small rip on the bottom edge.
I made it back to the van and pushed it into Max’s arms. “Check her
dress,” I said, bending at the knees and filling my lungs with oxygen,
praying to God that her wedding gown was okay.
“It’s fine,” Max said, the relief in his voice clear even above the roar
of passing traffic. “Perfect.”
I let out a breath. “Thank f*ck. 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 f*ck 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 f*cked 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