I watch as two enormous wooden doors are opened to reveal Hazel and her dad. I never imagined myself in a dress like that, but the organza with rouching across the chest looks so stunning on her, it might convince me. The luxe fabric flares out just above her knees, and a five-foot train trails behind her as she walks. It’s breathtaking, elegant, and looks like it would be found at a Hollywood event rather than in Wisco.
I look my fill of the bride quickly so I can turn and watch the groom as he sees her for the first time as I normally do at weddings. The bride looks beautiful, but the emotion on the groom’s face is always the best view. Except this time my eyes barely graze over Henry, who is, in fact, crying because they’re drawn into the overpowering orbit of Wyatt. He’s here to witness the marriage of his older brother, but his eyes are on me again. I hold his gaze. I feel the heat build behind my eyes as tears pool in their corners. I don’t want to be the one to keep Wyatt from where he wants to be, but after all this time, I don’t think I can do life without him. There has to be a way for us to both get what we want.
If I were a better woman, I might feel guilty about theamount of time throughout the ceremony Wyatt spends watching me instead of the literal vows being professed in front of him.
But I’m not. And I don’t.
“I, Henry, take you, Hazel, to be my lawfully wedded wife…” I’m only half hearing the vows as the officiant guides them through the ceremony.
Before I know it, the officiant is announcing, “And with the power vested in me by the great state of Wisconsin, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may now kiss the bride.” He steps aside so the photographer can get the perfect photo of their first kiss, and I appreciate the man’s attention to detail.
From a few steps to the side, he calls out, “It’s my honor to introduce to you, for the very first time, the new Mr. and Mrs. Vandergriff.” The crowd roars with excitement, and I clap my hands and cheer along. A punchy rendition of a classic rock song on the string instruments plays as they traipse down the aisle. Henry stops them about two-thirds of the way to sweep his new wife into a low kiss, sending the crowd into a frenzy.
“Well, that was beautiful,” I say to Layla, who is standing beside me as we wait our turn to make our way out of the ceremony room and into the hall where cocktail hour will be hosted.
She dabs her eyes with a tissue and says, “So beautiful.”
I step out of our row and motion for her to slide past me. “Let’s go get a drink.”
The bridal party is swept away for photos by a stressed-looking woman in all black while Layla and I are herded out onto the porch for cocktail hour. A tray with bruschetta passes by me and the smell makes me realize how hungry I am.
“Get in line for a drink?” I ask Layla. I’m going to need oneif I’m going to get through this night without pulling Wyatt into a coat closet.
“Yes, please.”
She greets everyone as we pass by, introducing me to those I have yet to meet. The rehearsal dinner was pretty intimate, so there are quite a few friendly new faces. I meet the baker and his daughter, who briefly dated Henry in high school. I meet the owner of the local bar who invites us to have a drink after the wedding tonight, and I politely decline because I plan on drinking plenty of free booze here.
“Wow,” I breathe after the last person ambles away to say hello to someone else.
“It’s a lot, isn’t it?” Layla plays with the toothpick of the bacon-wrapped water chestnut she just finished.
“It is, but it seems like Wyatt loves it.”
Layla’s smile is small and reminiscent. “There’re great things about living in a small town. When my dad had his hip replaced, we didn’t cook a single meal for weeks. But when I got a minor in possession ticket at a bar in the next town over, my parents knew about it before I even crossed the county line.”
“Yougot an MIP?” But she’s so smart and put together.
“Everyone has their days. There’s not much to do around here.”
It’s my turn to inspect the toothpick in my hand. “What was Wyatt like in high school? I mean, I met him shortly after graduation, but…”
“He was a lot like he is now. Big hearted, big bodied,” she laughs, then continues more seriously. “I remember the first time he came home after he met you.”
My eyebrows meet my hairline in surprise. “You do?”
She nods. “He talked about you the whole weekend. Bythat time, three years later, he was calling to order a cedar chest.”
My mouth turns down at the corners, confused. Wyatt didn’t say anything about where the chest came from. And why would Layla know about it? How could someone’s furniture purchases be the hot gossip of a small town? “I don’t understand.”
“He didn’t explain it to you?”
I shake my head. “He just showed it to me this weekend.”
She laughs and it sounds like bells tinkling. Her hand lands on my shoulder as she says, “In Poblocki, gifting a girl a cedar chest is the equivalent of a promise ring. It’s making your intentions known.”
My entire body goes still, but my mind spins. He had that chest madeyearsago, but I just saw it for the first time this weekend. What does that mean?
I realize how long it’s been silent between us, and I stumble over my thoughts trying to find the right words, but she saves me from having to speak. “You didn’t know.” It’s not a question.