Page 90 of City of Love
He shakes his head again, his face falling. “She’s Lydia’s best friend. And she’smybest friend’s sister. Lydia would probably be okay with it, but Brady would kill me.” He hesitates, swallowing, and I nod; I’ve met Ian’s best friend a few times. “And it doesn’t matter, anyway,” he says. “I ruined any chance I had a long time ago. We’re better off as friends.”
“If you say so,” I say with a shrug, making a note to ask Lydia what he means. “So you want me to help here, or…?”
“What?” Ian says vaguely. He looks back to me, and that seems to snap him out of his Jade-induced fog. “Oh. Yeah. Right.” He clears his throat, and I make a show of looking at my feet so he doesn’t feel embarrassed that I’ve just witnessed him drooling over his sister’s best friend—and his best friend’s sister.
Once he’s recovered, we make quick work of the speakers and cords and the microphone. It seems like one of the last things to be set up; there are already tables and decorations and all that. There are flowers everywhere, which is sort of Mina’s thing. They’re on tables and winding around tree branches and woven around the backs of chairs—all in various shades of yellow, orange, and pink, like the sunrise. It looks pretty.
I go inside and find Lydia when it’s time for the ceremony. I trail in to the church, passing both strangers and familiar faces as I make my way to the room where the bridesmaids and groomsmen are meeting. Mina has a billion sisters as well as Jade and Lydia for bridesmaids, so the room is bustling, but the women in yellow are mostly swarming around Mina anyway. I just take a seat next to the rest of the guys, none of whom I know until Ian shows up a second later.
I lean back and make myself comfortable in my folding metal chair, watching Lydia do her thing until someone sticks their head in and tells us it’s time for the ceremony to start.
After that is the long procession of waiting and walking slowly. Making my way down the aisle with Lydia on my arm is an experience I would love to repeat, except for the church full of people watching us as we walk. But their attention is pulled away soon enough by the arrival of the bride, who truly does look breathtaking.
Mina’s a pretty girl, but that’s not what makes her look so special; she’s radiating the kind of joy and peace that comes from being in love and cementing a future together. I’m a little surprised to see that her wedding dress isn’t just plain white; the bodice has colorful embroidered flowers interspersed here and there, and the embroidery continues down the top part of the skirt, eventually fading into the long, white train.
That’s right; I know what the train of a dress is, just like I know the word “bodice.” You’d better believe Lydia has taught me more about fashion than I ever thought I’d know.
The ceremony is short and sweet. Mina and Cohen look like the happiest people on earth, but Lydia is a close second; she’s beaming as tears streak down her face. The joy glowing around her is sweet and pure—untainted. It’s the kind of joy that she’s only recently been able to find again.
After she reported Marcus four years ago, he not only was sent home from Paris but he also lost his scholarship to the university he’d planned to attend. About a year later he ended up in prison, at which point Lydia finally started attending therapy. It’s been an incredibly good experience for her, and she’s finally feeling like herself again. At first she was frustrated it wasn’t working faster, but I’m not sure wounds like the kind Marcus inflicted will ever just vanish overnight, and she gradually came to the same conclusion.
As I watch her, I wish I could just hold her, but I have to stand here stiffly until the officiant is done. When he finally declares them husband and wife, I breathe a sigh of relief.
Ceremony down; reception to go. I hope the food isn’t all fancy and gross.
The cake looks good, at least; it’s tall and yellow with colorful flowers winding up the side. It turns out to be chocolate, which makes Lydia very happy. We sit and eat together, after which I work extra hard to look excited about things like the garter toss.
I like Mina, but I don’t want her garter.
When they finally turn on music for dancing, I’m happy to pull Lydia into my arms and just be with her.
“I love love,” she says with a sigh, resting her head on my shoulder.
I laugh softly, rubbing her back as we sway with the music. “I know you do,” I say.
She looks back up at me, and wearing those heels, she’s only a few inches shorter than I am. When she meets my eyes, my breath catches in my throat. There’s no doubt in my mind that she loves me when she looks at me like this.
“You promise we can do this someday?” she says, gesturing around us.
“What, get married?” I say, my eyebrows going up a bit. It’s not that we haven’t talked about our future before, but it’s always been in terms of commitment rather than any sort of ceremony—jokes about silly names to give our kids rather than what kind of rings we want.
Good thing I know Lydia well enough to know what kind of ring she’ll like anyway.
She nods, answering me. “Yes,” she says. “Get married.”
I can’t stop my smile, and suddenly the little velvet box I’m carrying is burning a hole in my pocket. “Yes,” I say. “I promise.”
And then, before I can stop myself, I say, “Do you want to get away from all these people?”
“That sounds nice,” she says with a little smile. “Let’s go for just a minute.”
All I can think about is the ring in my pocket as she leads me away from the crowd, back around the side of the church. There are so many people here that I don’t think anyone notices us slipping away, which is how I prefer it.
We walk with her hand in mine, coming to a stop when we’ve rounded the corner. I lean back against the cool stone wall as Lydia stands in front of me. And then, as though I have no control over my body, I find myself pulling the velvet box from my pocket.
“I told myself I wasn’t going to do this here,” I say without preamble, opening the box. “But screw it. I can’t wait. Lydia,” I say, taking a deep breath. “I do want to do this with you. I hate wearing suits, but I want to wear the suit, and I want you to wear the dress. I want to get married to you. I want to have kids who wake us up at six o’clock on Saturday mornings. I want all of it, and I want it with you.”
I look at Lydia and see a tremulous smile on her face as tears once again begin to course down her cheeks. She looks at the ring—a simple diamond solitaire with a thin band of white gold.
