Lovely Trigger (Tristan & Danika #3)(99)

I told all of the bridesmaids that I wasn’t wearing a strapless gown when we went shopping for my dress, but by the end of the day I’d found my dream dress, and lo and behold, it was strapless, and it was just perfect.

It was ivory but the fitted, elongated bodice was so heavily beaded and exquisitely embroidered that the top looked silver.  It had a curved neckline that made my curves apparent, but didn’t give too much of a show.  It was undecided what was more of a showstopper, that beaded bodice or the tiered ruffle silk organza skirt with a chapel train.

It was the most elegant of princess gowns, and I adored it.

I’d tried on twenty dresses, and the instant I walked out in that one, everyone agreed that it was the one.

The bridesmaids wore white floor-length lace gowns with pale yellow sashes.

Tristan wore a classic crisp black tux, with a white shirt and tie.  The groomsmen wore the same, but with yellow ties.

Frankie and Estella, arm in arm, were the first of the bridal party to walk down the aisle.

As the maid of honor, Frankie had tried hard to get me a female stripper for the bachelorette party.  She’d only given up on the idea when I’d pointed out that it was clearly a Homer gift.

It hadn’t been a real bachelorette party, anyway.  We’d combined with the guys and James had wound up throwing us a party at his house.  I thought the guys had gotten the better deal, as there were two hot lesbians making out for half of it.

Bianca and James were next.  They didn’t walk arm in arm, but with one of his hands at her hip, the other in the loop in her choker.

Next followed Lana and Akira.  Lana had given birth just five weeks before, but you wouldn’t know it by looking at her.  She was one of those lucky bitches that bounced back right away.

Even as they walked, I saw them both steal a peek at the row where Tutu sat, holding their new son, Kaiko.  I’d gotten to hold him earlier.  He was calm and already clearly took after his father in looks, except for his blue eyes, though it was too soon to tell if those would change.

Dahlia and Adair were next.  They’d eloped about a year prior, and seemed to be doing well.  Stephan and Javier walked down together.  Todd and Trinity, two of Tristan’s very close support group from rehab, walked next.  Cory walked down alone, since the numbers were uneven, and Kenny paired up with Bev, since Jerry was walking me.

Bev gave Tristan her blessing after one tense lunch at her favorite Italian restaurant.  The mob place.  And while Jerry and me watched as Bev interrogated Tristan for a solid hour, a few tables away from the godfather, I’d of sworn she was the scariest person in the room.

But it had all turned out well, and she hadn’t hesitated to join the wedding party.

It was a very long aisle to walk and a beautiful one.  Big heaping bouquets of every white flower imaginable lined the pathway, dwarfed by colossal white vases filled to brimming with even more painstakingly arranged bouquets.

I clutched Jerry’s arm hard, but that was for emotional support.  I didn’t need to use him as a crutch.  After having partial knee replacement surgery over five months ago, my gait was smoother than it had been since the accident.  I’d never be taking up ballroom again, but I could take a turn or two around the dance floor now, which would surely come in handy later.

It would never be perfect, but it was better and close enough for me.

The minute we began to walk, a soft guitar began to play, followed by Tristan’s voice, singing our song.  Incidentally, it’d been the biggest hit off their latest album.

I met him and his devastating smile at the altar, and we said our vows again.

I didn’t hope, but knew, that this time would be different from the first.

ONE YEAR LATER

It was the longest flight I’d ever taken.  Well, at least it felt that way.  I’d actually taken the exact same route twice before, but this time was different.

This time that flight felt like the longest thirteen hours of my life.

It didn’t help that it felt like Tristan wasn’t even sitting next to me.  When booking the flights, the idea of first class was all well and good.  A rip off money wise, but I’d been excited to experience it again, as we had on the first two trips.

At the moment, I’d rather have been in coach sitting next to him, instead of in an isolated pod, feet away.  We couldn’t even touch.  The best we could manage was to talk through a lowered partition.

Our pods were at least next to each other, and we were face to face.  Still, I felt restless and antsy, and I knew that if we’d been sitting together, if I could have just held his hand, it would have helped.

He was reclining, his eyes closed.  I didn’t understand how he could be sleeping at a time like this.

I wanted to shake him awake.  I needed company right now.

“Psst,” I called to him.

He smiled, eyes still closed.  He hadn’t been sleeping.

I looked around, grabbed a grape off my fruit plate, and threw it at him.

He laughed, opening his eyes.  He looked so relaxed and happy.  I had no idea how he could be so calm.

I reached for an almond, and beaned him in the forehead with it.  He just kept laughing.

“What if we can’t…?  What if they won’t…?”  I was speaking in a furious, agitated whisper, so stressed I couldn’t even get the full questions out.