REHEARSE ME
All us girls take a limo to the downtown yacht club where the rehearsal dinner is happening on the top floor of the clubhouse. Sure. The guys came straight from golf. Showered at the locker rooms according to a text Alex sent Whit.
"Since it's not at a church, we can rehearse it anywhere," Trix explains. "I've been having these nightmares where we forget to rehearse. Or I just forget I'm getting married and I just don't show up."
"We won't let you forget," Meg says.
I nod to agree.
Alex is the first one I see when I arrive. He's downstairs trying to ask the hostess for a champagne stand.
"Emmy!" He shouts, already scooping me up for a hug.
"Hey, Alex, long time no see," I joke. "How was golf?"
"Oh," he fake winces. "Rough, but fun. Spent 8 hours drunk-driving a golf cart."
"Awful." I shake my head.
I follow Meg up the semi-spiraling staircase, carpeted with navy velvet and a colossal ship mast rising up the center.
I walk into the top level of the ritzy restaurant with one thing on my mind: My dress.
Right? We've all been there. There being walking into a room known to contain your ex, knowing damn well y'all about to see each other again, and promising yourself you will not be the first one to look.
I abhor being here.
We walk past a server holding bacon-wrapped scallops. Either the smoked, buttery smell makes my head spin or I'm starting to feel all the strawberry mimosas I pounded earlier.
I check all the people in my peripheral. I can tell Travis is the one smooching Trix (or at least I hope he is), and Nate is the one leaning against the crescent bar. I know Alex just walked up the stairs behind us, blurring by holding a metal rack of sorts. Also, Whit's perfect almond eyes are staring up at him. Sort of a dead giveaway.
Then comes the harder part: Distinguishing the B bros.
I think it's Brody standing on the opposite wall, across the room from the stairs, in front of a life-size ship in a bottle. He's tall, but somehow seems a little less showy than Brooks would be.
"Heard you were here," Travis says. He hands me a half-filled glass of who cares. I'm already sipping it.
"Hey, Trav. Happy wedding weekend," I say, hugging him.
As Trix slides up to my side. I steal the opportunity to glance up. Brooks is standing around the back of the stairs, his back to me, examining a display case of old anchors salvaged from shipwrecks. Or at least that's what the sign says.
I see him about to turn, about to see me, and I tense up. I quickly pull my hand from Trix's and beeline to the polished bar where I sneak between Nate and Meg.
"Don't you just want to get it over with?" Meg asks, catching my eye.
Nate smiles knowingly.
"No, I don't just." I cross my arms over my chest.
"Hey, Em." Brody appears behind me, Lauren at his side.
"Hey," I say, hugging him.
HOW does he smell like Brooks? Fuck.
"How're you doing?" I ask.
"It's been," he stops, shaking his head. "I'm doing well. We are."
I nod, unsure of the we he's referring to, but I don't press it.
Brody waves me away from the others and I follow him three steps back.
"He didn't even come back," Brody says. "The service was small, in Jersey. Mostly dad's old family. But he didn't come back. I know their relationship was strained, but I thought maybe."
"Oh my God." I gasp. "He couldn't even go to the funeral?"
"You know him, can't be bothered. Half the time I don't even know where he is-"
"He was in Seattle," I blurt out. "The night after -Or at least I think it was the night after. I didn't let him in."
It feels like a weight is lifted off my sexy chest. Brody is already shaking his head and holding out his hand to reject.
"Don't do that. You had no idea. I'm sure he doesn't blame you for that," he says, awkward.
"He can if he wants." I shrug. "I maybe would have been a bit kinder had I known."
"You were pretty harsh on him, then?" Brody hangs his head.
"Depends on your definition," I admit, biting my lip.
"Good." Brody nods.
"Good," I repeat.
I manage to make it through the staging without any eye contact with Brooks. Meg went right for him once I paired off with Nate. The two of us walk down after everyone else, I concentrate on my pumps and squeezing the daylight out of Nate's elbow. I go left, Nate goes right.
Cue Trix down the aisle, a ravishing vision in rehearsal-dinner white.