Page 80 of It Should Have Been Me

“Relax, Scott. I’m not planning on falling in love with her. We’re just having some fun.”

“Alright, Pete.” I don’t argue the point further. I’ve said my piece. Peter is a grown man who can make his own decisions. Instead, I turn back to Tommy. “What are you doing here, anyway? Aren’t you supposed to be with the women?”

“I needed to get away from all the estrogen. Torrential floods are happening in the other room. The moms are crying. The sisters are crying. Pretty much everyone is crying except Dylan’s goth sister. Though she doesn’t look like she was dressed by Goths-R-Us today. She’s looking hella cute in that pink dress.”

Dylan grits his teeth, switching to overprotective brother mode. “That’s my sister, Tom.”

Tommy gives an unremorseful shrug. “I keep telling you. That doesn’t make her any less cute.”

Peter laughs because Tommy has no filter when it comes to expressing his opinion. “You clearly have a thing for her. Why don’t you just ask her out?”

“Because I’ll kill him,” Dylan responds, but he says it so casually that one wouldn’t necessarily perceive it as a death threat. But it is, and I decide to intervene.

“I suggest we leave before any blood is shed.” I pull on my tuxedo jacket and straighten the collar. “You ready, Dyl?”

“Let’s bring it in for a group hug first.”

I smile as we all huddle together. Dyl has always been the sentimental type. It used to bug me to the nth degree when we were younger, but now it’s one of the things I appreciate most about him. I bring objective logic to our small circle of friends. I come with facts and hard-core truth whether they want to hear it or not. Pete brings perspective and understanding because he is generally the voice of reason when Dylan and I get into it (and we’ve had many heated arguments over the years). But Dylan...Dylan brings heart. He’s compassion personified.

“Okay, I’m gonna head back to the tropical storm of tears,” Tommy announces. “See you guys at the altar.”

I realize the second we walk out the door that the dressing room was a haven for me. The weight of the day settles on my shoulders as we head down the corridor that leads to the church. We walk up the stairs that lead to the altar and I take my place beside Dylan. Peter is on my other side, one step below me.

I nod a greeting to the priest. “Good morning, Father.”

Dylan spared no expense for this wedding and it can be seen in the pink roses neatly placed on miniature pillars on either side of the aisle as well as the white lace draped between the benches. The church is already packed, and more people are streaming in through the double doors.

The first notes on the piano have me drawing in a sharp breath, bracing myself for the day ahead. Two little flower girls come down the aisle first, sprinkling rose petals along the path. Tommy follows them with Dylan’s sister behind him and then my eyes catch sight of Cat. Dressed in an off-the-shoulder pale pink dress, she looks stunning, radiant. The smooth material hugs every sensuous curve, and the knee-high slit adds a slight hint of sexiness to this vision of elegance.

She slowly ascends the stairs and stops when she’s standing directly opposite me. Time has confused the flow of events. This was supposed to bemymoment.Wewere supposed to be saying vows to each other. It should’ve been me getting married to the woman I love, but instead, I’m out here feeling robbed of the one thing I wanted more than anything.Her.She’s just a few feet in front of me and yet the distance between us is so wide, so vast, it feels like she’s unreachable.

Silent moments pass. Our eyes lock and we lose ourselves in a time warp. Memories of the past. Possibilities of a future we never got to experience. A thousand words of yearning pass between us, and yet not one word is said. Keith and Isa reach the bottom of the stairs and Cat finally looks away, breaking the spell. I push my feelings aside, put on my game face, and focus on the happy couple. Today is about celebrating their journey, their love.

“Look at her, Scott,” Dylan whispers in awe. “She’s gorgeous. I don’t know what right I did in this world to deserve her.”

I watch as Isa walks down the aisle with Keith, the long train of her dress slowly dragging behind her. Keeping true to her style, the dress is not the traditional white. The top is lacy, looking very much like a corset while the bottom flares into layers of pearl and pale pink silk. Dylan is right. She looks stunning.

Isabella is beaming as she walks up the stairs to meet us at the altar and my boy looks like a kid on Christmas day. I hang onto every word as he recites his vows, his eyes bright with excitement. It could be tears. I don’t doubt for a second that this sentimental fool is probably on the verge of crying. I hand him the ring and he slides it onto her finger.

“Can I kiss her now?” Dylan whispers.

“Not yet,” Father Matteo whispers back, and a slight murmur of laughter flitters through the church from the people who were able to hear that quiet exchange.

A sniffle draws my attention back to Cat. She carefully dabs her eyes, trying not to spoil her makeup as we listen to the final prayers. Tommy is not holding up much better, either.

Father Matteo raises his arms. “I now pronounce you Mr. and Mrs. De Lorenzo.”

“Can I kiss her now?”

“Yes. You may kiss your bride.”

Dylan’s arm slips around Isa’s waist faster than the priest says the words and his lips land on hers. Their excitement is infectious because applause breaks out. It’s so loud no one hears Dylan telling her how much he loves her.

“My Queen of Spades,” he whispers.

“My King of Hearts,” she whispers back.

Despite the noise around us, I hear that little exchange, and I can’t help but smile.

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