Page 34 of Truth or More Truth
She finally lets go of me and then follows me out into the room so I can change into my dress. “But there could be, right? You can’t just be all up in his business all night and then walk away. That’s rude.”
“Nothing can happen there. He’s got a lot of secrets, and he’s a total player.”
“Yes, he does have secrets, which I’m hoping he’ll feel comfortable enough with you tell you about soon. But I don’t think he’s a player.”
“Believe me,” I say. “He is.” But I don’t tell her how I know that. “So I’m thinking I need to focus on Shannon instead.”
“He is one fine-looking man, no disrespect to my handsome husband.”
“Indeed.” I slip on a long-sleeved pink midi dress that hugs my torso and flares out at the hips.
“And he’s nice and charming and successful.”
“Yup.”
“But he lives in Little Rock,” she states, “which is a long way from Chicago.”
“Bobby lives in L.A., which is much farther.”
“Oh, we’re back to Bobby now, are we?” she teases.
I roll my eyes at her as I step into the heels I dyed to match my dress. “Let’s go, matchmaker.”
Leslie’s mom has taken on the role of wedding coordinator, and the woman knows how to get things done. Within minutes of us arriving at the church, she has us all standing justso at the front of the sanctuary. We’re spaced out with precision and turned at just the right angle.
It’s not lost on me that due to the order we’re standing in, I’ll be walking out of the church with Bobby. Last I knew, I was walking with Diego, and Aunt Star would be with Bobby, but apparently Leslie is acting as matchmaker, too. I determine not to mention it to her, as that would only add fuel to the fire.
Once Mrs. Beckett is sure we all know exactly where to stand, she shoos all of us bridesmaids, plus Leslie and her dad, to the foyer so we can practice walking in. Ash’s two teenage sisters go first, followed by Leslie’s younger sister Cynthia, me, Aunt Star, and then Wendy, the matron of honor.
The sanctuary doors close behind Wendy, and when the pipe organ begins blasting out theBridal Chorus,the doors swing back open, and tears fill my eyes at the sight of one of my best friends looking happier than I’ve ever seen her. I turn my head to catch Ash’s reaction, and he’s visibly holding back his own tears. I’ve never seen him cry, but something tells me I will tomorrow.
My gaze then moves past Randall and Diego and focuses on Bobby, who’s looking back at me with no shame. My breath catches in my throat, and he holds my gaze for several seconds before shifting his focus to Ash and Leslie. I then catch Shannon’s eye, beyond Bobby, and he winks at me. I press my lips together to keep from laughing at him. He’s such a flirt.
When I slide my gaze back up the row of men, Bobby’s face holds a slight frown. I wonder what that’s about. He was quieter than normal on our drive from the hotel, but since Randall and Wendy are both chatterboxes, I chalked it up to him just letting them run their mouths as usual. Now I wonder if it’s something else.
“So we’ll do the vows and the rings, and then I’ll pronounce you man and wife, and then I’ll tell you to …,” the preacher’s voice trails off as Ash leans down to kiss Leslie.
“Well,” the preacher says with a chuckle, “I guess we’re practicing that part.”
The rest of us clap and holler, and even though I can’t see Ash’s face, I’m sure it’s bright red. The man has come out of hisshell a bit since Leslie came into his life, but he’s still very private—so much so that I’m impressed he kissed Leslie in front of us now.
They finally break off their kiss, and Leslie raises her hands and yells, “Let’s parrrrrrty!”
We all whoop and shout until a wolf whistle cuts us off, and we all stop instantly.
“We’ll party in due time, kids,” Mrs. Beckett says, “but first, you need to walk out of here in the right order, just like you will tomorrow.”
Leslie and Ash hustle down the aisle, followed by Wendy and Randall, Diego and Aunt Star, and then I loop my arm into Bobby’s as he ushers me out.
“You look stunning,” Bobby says under his breath.
I can feel my cheeks heat. “Thanks. You don’t look so bad yourself.”
He’s wearing charcoal pants and a nicely fitted light blue shirt with a few buttons unbuttoned. The only thing that would make him look better is if he rolled up his sleeves. He also smells like heaven, otherwise known as Givenchy Gentleman. It’s my favorite cologne, yet somehow it smells even better on him than it does on the sample papers at Marshall Field’s.
“Just wait ’til you see me in my pink-and-purple paisley cummerbund and bow tie tomorrow,” he quips.
I giggle as we enter the church’s foyer. “I will definitely be needing a picture of that.”
