Page 98 of Love Is…?

Abby waved her apology away, directing them into the house. “It’s not a concern. I’m sorry you had to deal with what seemed a tricky situation with…?” Abby handed off the armload of flowers to a passing wedding planning assistant, and tilted her head questionably. Jayde figured Abby had absolutely every right to ask who had barged their way into her front garden.

“Ex-girlfriend,” Tessa said, then looked apologetically at Jayde.

“Awkward.” Abby raised her eyebrows. “As long as you’re okay.” She peered at Tessa, who nodded. “Excellent. Well, apparently you’re rescuing my daughter and our dog from the mayhem that is our wedding day, and you’ve been held up enough. I best let you get on with it.” She waved as she turned to disappear upstairs, and Grace galloped past her, with a, “Bye, Mum. Back in an hour.”

The mayhemof the morning continued right up until the final guest sat, and then it was suddenly, exquisitely calm. Jayde, her fingers interlaced with Tessa’s, peered over the other guests from their position in the back row. The entire room, in fact all of Garlard House, radiated beautiful tranquility. The white drapes, the splashes of colour—Abby’s request because she refused to have the room “Look like it’s been stolen from the white-walled set of the latest horror film”—and the arc of seats split by an aisle—an arrangement suggested by Sam who didn’t want “Parallel rows like a funeral.” That had earned her a prolonged kiss from Abby last week which prompted Grace and Tessa to grin at each other.

A long deep blue carpet ran from the entrance of the room, down the centre of the aisle, to the lovely floral arrangements that climbed the screening behind the small riser where the celebrant was standing, her leather folder open.

Grace, resplendent in a soft pink pants suit, her long hair swept up in an intricate braid, waited to the side, shoulder to shoulder with Cath Monroe. Both were giving readings during the ceremony; Grace an original poem, and Cath, the e.e.cummings verse,Love Is A Place. Jayde was looking forward to Cath’s delivery, as it was one of her favourite poems. The genius of cummings to portray the desperate need to affirm love with such brevity. She rolled her eyes. For a self-professed naysayer of relationships and romance, she was doing an appalling job of keeping up the reputation. She blamed the woman beside her.

Tessa leaned into Jayde’s shoulder. “I’m going to cry, just so you know. Particularly in the vows and during Grace’s poem,probably because it’s original and impossibly heartfelt, and then during all other parts of the ceremony.”

Jayde chuckled at the warning. “I brought tissues.” She cut a glance at Tessa. “To share.” Then she grinned, appreciating Tessa’s pastel yellow strapless dress. Appreciating Tessainthe pastel yellow strapless dress, more to the point. Jayde had vacillated between a formal suit and her tapered black pants with favourite paisley-patterned silk waistcoat, eventually going with the pants and waistcoat. It was an outfit that she could move in more easily, which was necessary, because she was going to be dancing with Tessa tonight. A lot. Closely. Kissing one of those enticingly bare shoulders.

Then, the room hushed as if a silent direction had been given, and everyone knew that behind them the two women of the moment had taken their first steps towards marriage.

Tessa’s soft, “Oh,” was echoed about the room as everyone stood. Sam and Abby, resplendent in white with matching splashes of colour, glided past, hand in hand, their smiles impossibly wide.

Abby’s cheeks were flushed, and she radiated pure joy, as did Sam, although, to Jayde’s eye, it looked like Sam’s smile was more a this-is-the-best-thing-ever-and-I-love-this-woman-so-much-and-holy-hell-this-is-huge.

Then, as is common in wedding ceremonies, time flew past, and as Tessa had predicted, she cried when Abby declared to Sam, “I’m lucky to have found you. I love that you hold my hand through life. You laugh with me. You see me.”

And when Sam responded with, “I was made for you,” Jayde quickly divided the small packet of tissues between them as they both leaked tears.

And also as predicted, Grace’s poem produced tearful sighs from the majority of the guests, and Cath’s reading produced outright sobbing from someone in the second row.

It was perfect. Sam and Abby only had eyes for each other. The rest of the room, the entire building, could have floated away and they wouldn’t have noticed. Abigail Taylor was a bonafide celebrity, because the woman just about shed stardust everywhere she went. But right then, she was Abby Taylor marrying her person, Sam Markson, and the two of them were all the lights of the galaxy. It was beautiful and intimate and Jayde swallowed a lump in her throat as she thought about how fortunate she was to witness their union.

“This is a visual feast,”Jayde declared, gazing at the main room, which had been transformed from its official ceremonial duties to a landscape of fairy lights, polished wood floors, and sheer curtains.

Tessa leaned into her shoulder. “I don’t think wedding planners get enough credit. Everything has run perfectly.”

Jayde kissed the top of Tessa’s head. “Do you want something to eat? I’ll go hunt and gather.”

Tessa grinned. “That sounds all very butch and wonderful. How about a few small and dainty items, then we can share?”

Jayde raked her gaze up and down Tessa’s body, lingered on her bare shoulders, then smirked. “I like sharing with you.”

“Oh, I have so much more to share, Jayde Ferguson. You don’t know the half of it.” Tessa returned the smirk, and Jayde felt her veins thrum with arousal.

“I want to kiss you.”

“Nothing stopping you.”

Jayde leaned closer and pressed her lips softly against Tessa’s, who sighed.

“Nope. Nothing stopping me,” Jayde whispered, then grinned as Tessa pushed lightly on her chest.

“Go hunt and gather, woman.”

If the listicleswere to be believed, it was frowned upon to have a buffet at a high class wedding reception, but Sam and Abby weren’t ones to pander to tradition. So a beautiful buffet dominated one end of the room, and guests gravitated towards the food in waves, each clutching tiny ceramic plates holding tiny morsels of food. However, it took Jayde at least fifteen minutes to arrive at the tables to claim her selection as a number of guests stopped to deliver rather unexpected hugs or compliment her waistcoat or simply make small talk.

“I’m reallyglad you’re here,” Abigail said, embracing Jayde, who had a slight fan-girl moment. She slapped her brain, reminding it that she was hugging Abby Taylor, not the woman who filled billboards outside cinemas. Then Jayde was introduced to Whalen Lambert, who had directed two of Abby’s films.

“Culturemagazine?” His bald head reflected the glow from the fairy lights. “How’s Tilde these days? I hope she hasn’t convinced Abby to let you write up something about the wedding.” He narrowed his eyes but Jayde caught the twinkle. Whalen knew exactly who Jayde was and what she’d been doing for the last two months.

“Absolutely. I’ve disguised myself as the girlfriend of Grace Taylor’s chaperone, and now I’m off to grab my phone, which I’ve hidden in the mini quiches so I can secretly record Matt Kinnear giving travel tips to Sophie Grisham.” Jayde blinkedinnocently, and Whalen roared with laughter, clapping Jayde on the shoulder.

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