There's a hazy sherbet-colored sunset dipping into the ocean on our drive. One of Will's hands is on the steering wheel and the other is on my thigh while I stare dreamily out the window.
Every so often, I sneak a glance to admire my boyfriend's crazy resemblance to James Bond in his tuxedo. His masculine profile and chiseled jawline and tousled hair made Will an undeniable heartthrob.
Whenever he caught me staring, he'd flash me his movie star smile and I'd temporarily flatline from sheer handsomeness.
A familiar marine brine in the air signals that we're close to our destination and reminds me of that magical night on Alki beach with Will.
That was the night that I learned about his dad. That I found a group of wonderful people supporting each other as the adult children of addicts. It was also the night of our first kiss.
The wedding was in Ballard in a church overlooking the sparkling waves of Puget Sound. As we got close enough to look for parking, I started fiddling with my hands.
"Does your family know that you're bringing a date?" I ask.
"Of course," Will smiles. "They're very excited to meet my girlfriend."
"Oh, wow," I duck my head sheepishly. "So, they know about me?"
"They know about us," Will backs into a choice spot about a block from the venue. "And I confirmed that Rory will be there with his fiancé."
"Bianca Mueller?" I nod with a sullen sigh.
"That's right," Will shrugs. "I don't think my cousin would be stupid enough to try anything that this wedding, but I'll be by your side tonight, Moira. Rory won't 'be able to get to you without going through me first."
The protective edge in Will's gravelly voice sends a shiver up my spine while I nod my agreement.
He knows as well as I do that common decency never stopped Rory in the past.
There is a brisk chill in the air when Will helps me out of his car and walks me toward the church. Even though I'm bundled up for the wintery weather and his arms are around my shoulders, my teeth are chattering.
The church's art deco steeple towers into the pale moon emerging out of the purple-tinged clouds overhead. It's a modern concrete building paneled in all sorts of intricate stained-glass mosaics that are glowing in the waning sunset.
Outside are crowds of people milling about in their heavy coats while smiling and chatting. The throng was leisurely flowing up the stairs and through the church's ornately carved double wood doors.
Out of the fray pops Will's sister Adelle in a trumpeted evergreen evening gown under a heavy snow-white fur jacket. The sweetheart neckline and yards of couturier chiffon really highlight her statuesque figure.
Hyacinth is right behind her daughter wrapped in a humongous caramel-colored fur coat and waving at us.
"Hello, you two," Hyacinth greets us with a wide smile on her red lips. "Moira, I'm so glad you could make it."
"It's wonderful to see you," I open my arms for her motherly hug and then we turn to Will's sister.
"Do you already know my daughter, Adelle?" Hyacinth asks.
"Nice to meet you," Adelle's response is as cold as the December air.
Her wide blue eyes asses me carefully before offering her dainty hand.
"Nice to meet you, too," I smile and shake Adelle's lifeless palm.
It was hard to get a read on Adelle, but it didn't seem as if she liked me much.
Will gives his little sister a bighearted hug that makes their mom beam with pride.
Then, he links arms with me as we join the slow procession of people heading into the church.
It's much warmer inside and I shrug out of my coat to hand it off to the officials at the coat check.
"Who are you wearing?" Will's sister asks incredulously.
"Um, me?" I answer after glancing down at my dress. "I made this."
"You, made that?" Adelle's eyes are alight with shrewd curiosity.
"Yup," I bob my head.
"Moira is an extremely talented designer and seamstress," Will informs his sister in a tone that makes my heart sing.
Adelle regards me a little while longer.
"Do you work on commission?" Her approach is much shier.
"Um, sure," I return her timid smile.
"Cool," Adelle says excitedly.
"We should go find our seats," Will's mom reminds us.
Inside the main hall is an explosion of white roses and freesias that add a heavy perfume to the air. Wide satin ribbons line the aisle between the pews as we follow the usher directing us to a group of seats near the back.
The ceremony was formal and long, but absolutely lovely. There wasn't a dry eye in the house by the time they got to the couple's vows.
Thankfully, I couldn't see Rory or Bianca in the sea of faces, but I wasn't exactly trying to find them, either.
After the bride and groom rushed down the aisle and climbed into a waiting Rolls Royce, everyone headed for the reception.
The stars are twinkling like diamonds in the night sky when we arrive at the private boat club on the outskirts of Ballard.
Will's family has reserved the clubhouse on the water, which is surrounded by a wooden dock that leads out to a private marina. Neat lines of lavish sailboats and mega-yachts are bobbing in the lapping waves of Puget Sound.
We're far enough out that we can see the distant flash of a lighthouse in the inky night.
The clubhouse is full of linen-covered tables set with beautiful bone china place settings and vases teeming with floral arrangements. Wreaths of holly and bright red berries wrapped with gold ribbon add a classy holiday touch to the party.
A stage is set up in front of an expansive wood dancefloor. There's also a sizeable bar along the back wall where a team of waiters are keeping the guests well-watered.
As promised, Will stays right by my side, introducing me to each new smiling face as his girlfriend. Everyone seems excited to meet me, but there's no way I'm going to remember all f their names.
I was smiling so hard it hurt by the time we found our seats at a table with his mother and sister.
When the bride and groom enter, the chatter in the room quiets down as the guests erupt in applause.
Then, the clubhouse lights dimmed for a mirror ball to drop from the ceiling and send thousands of twinkly shards of light into the room.
The bride and groom spun into a romantic waltz as the band stuck up a heartstopping arrangement of Elton John's, Your Song. We watched while the happy couple twirled and laughed and whispered to one another, lost in their own little bubble of happiness.
"Well, hello!" A menacing voice hisses too close to my ear. "Fancy seeing you two here."
I don't need to turn around to know that it's Rory Smithe right behind us.
He slides into the empty chair next to me, which is actually Adelle's seat, reeking of booze and cigarettes.
He's so sauced that his cruel eyes are a little glassy but still narrowed right at his target.
"Hello, Rory," I whisper as my boyfriend's hand snakes around my waist protectively.
"What do you want, Rory?" Will snarls to send a shiver into my panties.
"Can't I stop by and say hello to my cousin and his new girlfriend?" Rory burps under his breath while his greedy eyes openly roam my body to make me almost retch. "Don't you clean up nice, Moira?"
"Watch it!" Will's authoritative tone gets Rory's attention.
"Get out of my chair, Whorey," Adelle's angry demand was overshadowed by her hilarious nickname for her man-whore of a cousin. "Nobody wants you at this table. Shoo!"
Will's sister clearly had a bone to pick with Rory, too, from the glowering look she was serving up.
"Whatever," Rory snorts with a slurry smile. "I need to go and find my fiancé anyway."
He lurched up from the chair to reveal that the front of his shirt was poking through his partially unzipped fly before Rory stumbled away.