Getting Real (Getting Some #3)(23)
Even the weather is perfect—a cloudless, robin’s-egg blue sky, with a gentle crisp breeze off the water that keeps the sun from feeling too hot.
“Holy shit,” I say to Garrett, who meets us at the end of the aisle wearing a sharp black tux. He’s in the wedding party, an usher, because Dean ended up asking Lainey’s teenage son, Jason, to be his best man, as Garrett thought he should be.
My brother nods, eyes scanning the yard. “Damn skippy.”
Then he gives Violet a peck on the cheek—the same way he’d greet my sister-in-law or one of Timmy’s long-term girlfriends if he ever actually has one.
“Good to see you again, Vi. You look beautiful.”
“Thanks, Garrett. It’s good to see you too. This place looks incredible.”
“Yeah, Lainey really kicked ass and took names. She told Dean her posts on the wedding preparations are the most viewed on her blog ever, and she’s gotten a bunch of sponsors and advertising offers.”
“Well deserved.”
Garrett nods and points at the chairs on the groom’s side.
“Why don’t you guys sit down? The show’s going to get on the road soon.”
In the first row, in the seat of honor, wearing a purple gown and matching hat, is Grams—Dean’s petite firecracker of a grandmother who raised him. Beside her, looking blond and too young to have a son in his thirties, is Dean’s mom. They’re not super close but Dean was happy when she said she was flying in from Vegas for the wedding.
I tap Garrett’s shoulder. “I’ll see you later.”
We find seats in the same row as my parents, Tim, Ryan, and Angy. The place fills up quick—half the town is here and all of the high school faculty. I keep an eye out for Aaron, his girlfriend, Mia, and Brayden and Spencer. When I spot the four of them walking into the backyard, I lift my arm, waving them over to the last of the empty chairs beside me. Once they’re seated, I tip back in my chair, gesturing to Vi.
“Guys, this is Violet. Vi, these are my boys—Aaron, Brayden, and Spencer.”
The introductions come with an unashamed ring of pride—because raising good kids is hard, being a good kid can be even harder, and I’ve seen enough to know that I’m damn lucky to have three good ones I get to call my own.
Violet leans slightly over me, sending another hit of that delicious strawberry bubblegum scent my way. It makes me want to attach my mouth to the thrumming little pulse point in her neck for a deeper taste.
“It’s nice to meet you,” she tells them warmly.
Early on, I set a rule for myself that my sons wouldn’t meet a woman I was dating unless it was getting serious. Stability is important and I wouldn’t want them getting attached to someone who may not stick around. I don’t want them thinking it’s normal or expected for people to fade in and out of each other’s lives. Despite my current situation with their mother, I want them to have the chance to believe that love can last a lifetime.
I told them I was bringing a friend from work to the wedding, so they reply to Violet with a nod, a wave, and a “hi,” respectively, without thinking anything more of it.
The musicians tee up their instruments and begin to play. Dean, Jason, and Garret are stationed at the trellis on the dock, beside Lainey’s sister Judith who got certified online to officiate the wedding.
Lainey’s mother walks down the aisle beside one of her sons-in-law, followed by her two other sisters wearing matching short-sleeved, light-pink gowns, escorted by their husbands.
Dean and Lainey are outgoing people, so it makes sense that their daughter, Ava, is unbothered by the hundreds of eyes trained on her as she wobbles down the aisle, throwing rose petals from her basket with chubby hands, her baby-soft blond hair pushed back from her smiling little face with a pink-and-white polka-dot band.
Once Ava gets a kiss from her dad and is seated next to Grams, the bridal march begins and all the guests stand. Lainey walks down the aisle on her father’s arm, her hair flowing around her in loose, golden ringlets. She’s wearing an ivory, form-fitting, beaded, backless gown that, judging by the look on his face, knocks Dean’s socks off. He has an elated expression of pure adulation and devotion. Like he can’t quite believe he’s the guy who gets to have her, hold her, and keep her, forever.
I remember that. The hope and love and thrilling eagerness of starting a new life with someone, for all the beautiful moments and memories you’ll make together.
I miss it sometimes in a way I can’t really describe. The bonding and sharing—the knowing that even if everything else falls apart, you’ll still have each other.
After Lainey’s dad gives her a peck on the cheek, he shakes Dean’s hand and turns away toward his seat—wiping his eyes with a handkerchief the way older, tough guys do.
Then Dean and Lainey only have eyes for each other as they stand beneath a flowered arch and become husband and wife.
*
Dean and Lainey decided to outsource what I personally think are the most crucial parts of any wedding—good food and good music. She hired a professional DJ and a white-gloved catering and bar service to keep her guests entertained, well-fed, and happy.
Throughout the cocktail hour, mounds of hors d’oeuvres are consumed, thousands of pictures are taken, and the drinks flow like water. I’m on my way back to Violet from the bar, carrying a white wine for her and a Jack and Coke for me, when I’m intercepted by Dean.