Well Played (Well Met #2)(56)
As my foot hit the white vinyl runner, people turned in their seats to watch me process down the aisle. My eyes immediately caught on a figure sitting on the groom’s side, smack-dab in the middle of a row. A figure whose vivid auburn hair was a direct contrast to the all-black outfit he was wearing. Daniel’s polite smile widened into something more genuine when he saw me, and I didn’t know what shone in my eyes to put that smile on his face, but I was glad it did. I’d forgotten how vivid his hair was when it wasn’t hidden under a baseball cap. Now it was combed back from his face, and a little damp from a late-afternoon post-Faire shower. He’d shaved before the wedding, too. I wanted to climb over the people sitting between him and me. I wanted to settle into his lap and run my hand down that smooth cheek. Instead, I shot him a playful wink, and he laughed without making a sound.
I got to my place at the front of the aisle and turned. April was about halfway down the aisle herself, while Emily and her father were just visible, still on the lane. I looked from them back to Simon. At first glance he looked calm, but that was only a thin veneer. I’d known him long enough to know that the man was about to come out of his skin. There was a wild look in his eyes, a muscle jumped in his cheek from his tightened jaw, and his hands were clasped together in front of him so hard his fingertips had turned red. The early evening sun flashed off the silver hoop earring in his ear, and seeing it made me smile. For all that he had insisted he wouldn’t get married in costume—and he wasn’t, his dark gray suit with a matching striped vest beneath was all Simon—he’d brought that little piece of Captain Blackthorne to the wedding.
Of course, there were a lot of pieces of Faire at this wedding. Venue aside, Mitch stood there in his dark gray suit jacket and a green kilt, wearing a proud smirk. Had Simon really approved that? Seemed unlikely. Out in the crowd, roughly a quarter of the attendees were Faire performers, most of them still in costume. Leather jerkins and long skirts mingled with neckties and flowered dresses worn by family members and in-town friends.
The music changed as Emily and her father came down the aisle. Simon sucked in a sharp breath, and Mitch nudged him. “Look at her.” His voice was a whisper, but it carried to those of us in the wedding party. I was pretty sure Simon couldn’t have spoken even if he wanted to, but that was okay. He didn’t need to. He gripped his hands tighter—could a man break his own fingers that way?—and his gaze sharpened to a laser-point as he watched his bride’s approach. As for Emily, she looked beatific; I’d never seen someone smile with their whole being before. Even the flowers she carried looked happy.
What would it be like to look forward to your future with such unbridled joy? Without thinking, my gaze flicked over to Daniel, and when he turned his head to catch my eye at the same time, I felt a stirring of that same kind of joy deep in my chest. I could blame it on the setting, sure, but I had a feeling it was all Daniel.
The wedding ceremony was like a dream, a pleasant one that I couldn’t fully recall after it was over, but it left me with a glowing feeling. My memory was reduced to snapshots, images of moments. Emily and Simon joining hands, looking like they’d been waiting their whole lives for that moment. April wiping a surreptitious tear during the vows. Caitlin reading a romantic Shakespearean sonnet that made Emily blush and Simon’s hand tighten around hers. The most perfect, sweetest of kisses as they were pronounced husband and wife.
After the wedding, while we took an endless series of wedding-party photos, the chairs were repositioned and the chess field became the reception hall, with tables and chairs set around the edges and a makeshift dance floor in the middle. The caterers set up little stations of appetizers, the string quartet gave way to a deejay with a sound system, and before long everyone was chatting and eating. I was released from all the posed wedding photo–taking to find Daniel waiting for me with a plate of finger food—chicken wings, stuffed mushrooms, assorted canapés—along with a plastic glass of champagne.
“God bless you.” I couldn’t decide what I wanted to attack first, but the fact that I had hardly eaten a bite all day made me practically snatch the plate out of his hand. “Are we sharing this?”
“Nope, this is all yours. I ate my share while I was waiting for you.” He ushered me to a seat at a nearby table and picked up the beer he’d left there. “You haven’t eaten today, have you? You hardly eat during a normal Faire day, and with all of this going on, I figured . . .” He shrugged, and there was that feeling again. That easy, familiar feeling that we’d been together for a few years and not a couple weeks. He knew my habits and the things I liked. He knew me.
I sank gratefully into a chair and took a healthy sip of champagne. My role in this wedding was over. Now I could relax and enjoy myself. No longer a bridesmaid, now just a wedding guest. Thank God.
The food wasn’t particularly Faire-themed, which was probably a good thing. The more conventional wedding guests wouldn’t have gone for a dinner of giant turkey legs, mead, and funnel cakes. Instead it was an assortment of finger foods, like tapas, but in large enough quantities to guarantee that no one would go hungry. Once the guests were full of food, the toasts began, and we raised our glasses again and again, saying lots of “Huzzahs!” to the happy couple before they took the floor for the first dance.
“Come on.” Daniel popped one last mini-meatball in his mouth and wiped his hands on a napkin before he stood and extended a hand to me, his eyebrows raised in a question. “Dance with me?”