I detach myself from the boys and go inside to shower and catch up on some work emails before it’s time to get dressed. At two thirty I put on the linen suit Jon and Kevin have required for this event and gather with my family to meet the chauffeured SUV we’ve rented to squire us to and from the wedding. We arrive at the venue—an opulent, pink stucco 1920s mansion built to look like a Venetian palazzo, right on the bay.
We walk over a marble terrace and down into the gardens, which are surrounded by massive, knotty banyan trees protruding from the earth like self-contained jungles.
A young woman hands out feathered, Jazz Age–style fans, which we cool ourselves with as we mill about in the crowd. I spot Marian sitting near the front with Javier.
And then, behind him, I see Molly arriving with Alyssa and Ryland. She’s in a gold-beaded flapper dress. Jon and Kevin requested we wear white linenor gold Roaring Twenties attire, and no one here has done it better than Molly. I’ve never seen her so dressed up, or looking so elegant.
I catch her eye, and she smiles at me. I’m about to walk over to say hello when a chime rings out over the speaker system, our cue to take our seats.
Jon and Kevin look incredible as they walk down the peony-lined aisle together, holding hands and beaming. They radiate the magnetism of two people madly in love.
I want what they have.
I want it so badly I have to take deep breaths and remind myself to focus on this moment,theirmoment, so I don’t get lost in my own longing.
The music stops and the officiant—a poet friend of the grooms—welcomes everyone and says some beautiful words about commitment and love.
My mother notices how emotional I am and startsrubbing my back.
I shrug off her hand like a four-year-old and am glad Molly is sitting a few rows ahead of us, so she didn’t see.
And then it’s time for the grooms to say their vows.
Jon goes first. Though he’s shy by nature, he’s also a teacher, accustomed to being in front of surly teens all day. He speaks directly to Kevin without notes.
“I met you when we were fourteen and immediately knew I loved you,” he says. “But because we were kids, it took me a couple of years to figure out that the feelings I had for you were more than just friendly. But I knew. I knew even then, in high school, as we goofed around and studied (or skipped studying) and applied to college, that you were more to me than a dear friend. You were myperson.My very best person.”
I remember their bond during those years, their gentleness with each other. There was a coupled quality about them. A way in which they shared a shorthand and always cracked each other up into near hysterics.
I was the third in our little group, but it was always clear that they were closer.
“Once we left for college, and both ended up in New York,” Jon goes on, “I realized that what I felt for you was romantic. And that terrified me. Because you were my best friend. My rock. My safe place. The person who could calm me down when I was anxious, make me laugh when I was sad, fill up my heart when I was lonely. You were the person who knew all my secrets.”
His voice catches. “Except one.”
He pauses, collects himself. “I couldn’t tell you that one because I was so afraid that you would feel awkward or crowded and push me away. That I would lose you forever.
“So I kept my secret, even though there were so many times—somany times—I was tempted to take a chance and tell you how I felt. But the timing never seemed right. You would be in a relationship, or I would. You would be too busy with work, or traveling abroad. I always had an excuse not to tell you.”
I can hardly breathe. It’s like Jon is speaking my own heart. I glance over at Molly to try to see if these words are reminding her of me the way they’re reminding me of her. Her gaze is trained on Jon. I see her wipe away a tear. Molly Marks,cryingat a wedding. It’s so out of character I almost laugh. And I hope—Ihope—part of it is because she sees us in this story.
I hope she’s crying for us.
“And then one day,” Jon goes on, “in the dead of winter, during a snowstorm, there was a knock at my door. I was fresh off a breakup, making cookies for New Year’s Eve, planning to eat them alone in front of the TV. I wasn’t expecting a soul.”
He puts his hands on Kevin’s shoulders and grins at him.
“And it wasyou.And you were carrying a bouquet that you’d put a plastic bag over to protect the blooms from the snow. I laughed, asking what you were doing buying flowers in this weather, and you took off the bag and handed them to me. They were white peonies. My favorite. Not even remotely in season. So delicate, yet you’d protected them from the cold. I reached out to take them so I could put them in water but you took my hand and stopped me.
“My blood went cold. I was afraid you were going to tell me you were moving, or sick.
“And instead you said, ‘Jon, you’re my soul mate. I love you.’”
I begin to cry in earnest. Big, silent tears roll down my cheeks, competing with the sweat.
“And all I could say back,” Jon continues, “was ‘I love you too.’ What you said was so simple, and so true, and it changed my life forever. So, Kev, today my own vow is simple and true. I vow to be your soul mate. I vow to love you too.”
I sneak another glance at Molly, who is beaming at them with wet eyes.
