For a fleeting second, I thought of my wedding day—the nerves, the excitement, the hope, the thrill. Would I ever feel that way again, like I had everything to look forward to? Or would I always have to look back in order to experience joy? Why did happiness have to be just a memory? I glanced down at my ring.
“Miss Cheyenne looks beautiful too,” Mariah was saying.
I swallowed hard. “I’m sure she does. I can’t wait to see you all.”
“Okay, I have to go because the photographer is telling us we’re leaving.”
“Okay. I’ll see you soon, peanut. I love you.”
“Love you too, Dad.”
I waited for a moment in case Cheyenne came back on the line, hoping she would, but there was only silence on the other end.
Disappointed, I tossed my phone on the bed, and started to get undressed.
As I traded my jeans and flannel for a dark blue suit, white dress shirt and burgundy tie, I couldn’t help noticing how empty and quiet the room was. I glanced around, wondering what it would be like if there was another suitcase on the floor, a black dress hanging in the closet, makeup and hairspray and earrings on the bathroom sink. It would even smell differently in here—like orange blossoms in the middle of winter.
There would be someone to talk to at the end of the night, someone familiar in a strange bed. Someone to hold, to whisper to in the dark, someone whose skin felt like satin against mine, who put her hands and mouth on me, who was warm and soft and beautiful. Someone who wanted me.
Someone who loved me.
I looked behind me at the bed, where I’d lain with Cheyenne last night, where I’d slept fitfully and alone, missing her, where I’d sleep alone again tonight, unless I was willing to take a risk.
Straightening my tie, I looked at my reflection and made up my mind.
Then I pulled off my ring and headed out.
“You ready, man?” Beckett clapped his hands on Griffin’s shoulders. We’d just finished taking groomsmen photos down in the bar, which wasn’t open yet, and we were having a quick shot before heading over to the barn.
“I’m ready,” Griffin said, and he looked it. No sheen of sweat on his forehead, no nervous laughter, no shaking hands.
“Here you are, gentlemen.” The bartender placed four shot glasses of whiskey on the bar with a grin. “For courage.”
“Look at him, he doesn’t even need it,” Moretti said with a grin, handing Griffin a shot.
“No, but I do,” I said, grabbing one for myself.
“You’re gonna be great.” Griffin slung an arm around me.
Moretti held his up. “Beviamo alla nostra,” he said. “To us.”
“Don’t be a dick.” Beckett elbowed him. “Make it to Griffin.”
“Relax, will you?” Moretti shot him a look. “We’ve been drinking to Griffin for weeks. And we’ll be drinking to him all night. I just wanted to take a moment and appreciate our friendship. It’s been a long time, and we’ve seen each other through a lot of things.”
I nodded, thinking about the struggles we’d endured as friends over the last twenty-plus years. It was easy to forget how rare our bond was—these guys were like brothers to me, and I couldn’t imagine my life without them.
“A lot of hardships, but a lot of good times too,” Moretti went on. “Especially those baseball championships where we beat the pants off the Mason City Mavericks.”
I raised my glass. “To the Bellamy Creek Bulldogs.”
“To brotherhood,” said Beckett.
“To the next twenty years,” added Moretti.
Griffin lifted his glass higher. “And fuck the Mavs.”
We laughed and tossed back our whiskey.
After one more shot—for warmth, we decided—we set our empty glasses on the bar and made our way through the ice and snow over to the barn, where the ceremony and reception would take place.
“You really as calm as you seem?” I asked Griffin as we walked along the shoveled path.
“Yeah, I really am.” Even he sounded a little surprised. “Proposing to her was a way bigger deal. I was a fucking wreck that day. This feels like a formality.”
“I get that,” I said, again recalling my own experience.
Griffin glanced at me—he knew what I was thinking. “How about you? You holding up okay?”
“Yeah. I’m not really thinking about the past today.” And I wasn’t—not the way he meant.
“Good.” He put an arm around me. “Because I happen to think the future could be pretty fucking awesome if you’d let it.”
He made it sound so simple, and maybe it was.
I knew what I wanted.
And I knew what I had to do to get it.
Fourteen
Cheyenne
It was time.
The guests were all seated. The barn was lit by candles and party lights. The music had started.
Griffin and Blair had wanted a small wedding to begin with, and the weather had also prevented a couple dozen people from being there, so the occasion seemed even more intimate. Half the barn was set up with round tables of ten for the reception, and the other half had rows of chairs on either side of a short aisle. At the head of the aisle, beneath a trellis hung with evergreen boughs and more white lights, my brother waited for his bride. Behind him stood his three best friends—Cole, Enzo, and Beckett, just like always.
From the back of the room, I watched Alexis and then Frannie make their way up the aisle, their long ruby-red dresses a dramatic splash of color amid so much white. When April signaled it was my turn, I turned and gave Mariah and Blair one last smile, tears in my eyes. “Here we go,” I whispered.
Mariah beamed. “Here we go.”
Blair smiled, radiantly beautiful, in a strapless gown fit for a princess. Her hair was pulled back from her face but loose around her shoulders, and she carried a bouquet of jewel tone roses, emerald greens, and eucalyptus. Beside her, eighty-something Charlie Frankel looked as dapper as I’d ever seen him, and as proud to have Blair on his arm as a father would be. He gave me a wink.
“Okay, Cheyenne,” whispered April. “Now.”
I walked slowly, clutching my bouquet of greens, breathing deeply, smiling widely, and trying desperately not to cry. Meeting my brother’s eyes didn’t help, because I saw that his were shining too. Then I looked at Cole—his eyes were dry, but I could see he was emotional too. He touched his heart for a moment. My throat grew tight and I felt a little dizzy. With tears blurring my vision, I walked a little faster, and took my place near Frannie.
Next came Mariah, smiling brightly, her joy and pride evident with every step. Her dress was a deep blue velvet and brought out the color of her sapphire eyes, which she’d inherited from her dad. But I could see her mom in her face too, and I wondered if Cole was struggling at all today, grappling with memories or ghosts.
As Mariah reached the front of the room, everyone rose, and a reverent murmur floated through the air as Blair made her way toward Griffin on the arm of her surrogate grandad. There may have been only forty or so guests, but every single one of them had to feel choked up as they watched Griffin behold his bride for the first time and wipe his eyes, and Charlie Frankel kiss Blair on the cheek before shaking Griffin’s hand. Once Charlie was seated, Blair and Griffin stood side by side, and the officiant stepped forward.