Page 11 of Like It's 1999

Pam, who slipped into her version of the bridesmaid outfit in no time—a mod ‘70s-era jumpsuit—waves an arm lazily from the couch in the corner. “Let the man in.”

Laura makes a face and flops into a chair. “Yeah, I give up.”

“We’re ready for you, big guy,” I call. Not that I’ll admit it, but I’ve been looking forward to seeing Steve all week. I don’t know why Kate thinks he needs reforming. Things haven’t even been awkward between us. I’m not going to break my one-time rule, but I can enjoy the company and the view.

When he doesn’t join us, I part the curtains. “Steve, did you hear that—whoops!” Unused to the new heels I put on for the fitting, I almost fall over when confronted with a tray of full champagne flutes. Somehow, Steve manages to steady me without spilling a drop.

“Good catch,” I breathe. “Wouldn’t want to waste all this goodness.”

“Ah, ‘It ain’t a party till something gets broken.’”

“I thought it was, ‘It ain’t a party until somebody loses an eye,’” Pam calls out.

Deb hands a glass to Pam as I serve Laura. “You’re both wrong. It’s, ‘It’s all fun and games until somebody loses an eye.’”

I grab a glass and hand it to the bride-to-be. “Not inSt. Elmo’s Fire.”

After setting the tray down, Steve gives me a flute and raises his own. “Ready to getthisparty started?”

Hand fluttering in front of my heart like a good southern belle, I coo, “Did anyone ever tell you you’re the perfect man?”

Without missing a beat, he answers, “Yeah, pretty much every weekend.”

I salute him. “Guess I set you up for that one.”

“You did indeed.”

Turning to the ladies, I raise my glass for a toast. “To the kick-ass bridal party that’s going to stand by while this girl signs her life away,” At Kate’s groan I quickly switch course. “Imean, we’re going to support her in every way we can while she executes the biggest deal of her lifetime… while wearing the poufiest dress I’ve ever seen.”

Kate’s face lights up with laughter and even Laura grins—or maybe it’s the champagne she’s sucking down. But when I catch Steve’s eye, I can’t believe what I’m seeing. “Steve, are youcrying?”

“Sorry. I mean, first off, I feel so honored to be here, to get a peek at this girl world, but”—he actually wipes a tear from his eye—“look at you, Kate. You’re like a princess.”

Deb rearranges the train. “I hate to admit it, but I couldn’t have done better myself. That sweetheart neckline is perfect on you.”

Kate lifts her glass. “My mom may have picked the dress and the wedding venue and the menu, but I got to pick the important things: the DJ, the cake flavor and the bridal party.”

After we all clink, she takes a big sip of the champagne just as Pam says, “Uh… and the groom.”

Kate manages to swallow her mouthful of champagne before it comes out her nose, but just barely. “Oh, yeah. Him too.”

STEVE

When I catch sight of Alice as she emerges from the Jetway in Richmond, Virginia, my solar plexus buzzes with a kind of nervous energy that I usually associate with… Actually, I’m not sure I know this feeling. It’s not like I’m worried about how the wedding will turn out. We’re in Kate’s home territory for the week, and she’s got everything planned down to the last second.

Maybe it’s more like anticipation. When Kate asked if I’d pick up Alice from the airport, I did my best to pretend I hadn’t been angling for the job. I get to spend a whole week hanging out with “Love ’Em and Leave ’Em Alice”—something most guys don’t get to do.

I let her scan the waiting crowd for just a few more moments so I can enjoy the view. She really is a gorgeous girl. No wonder she’s left broken hearts across Boston. Clear skin, wide-set eyes, a round face with the cutest, pointy little chin. But it’s when she sees me that her expression has my heart growing like the Grinch’s. It’s not a polite smile. It’s an actual, glad-to-see-me grin.

Before I can move or say a word, she’s knocking her forehead against my sternum. “Ow!”

“Sorry. I’m just so relieved to be away from my family.” She rubs my chest. “Oooh, nice muscles there, farm b?—” When I raise a brow, she pats my right pec. “I mean, Steve.”

Opening my arms wide, I say, “Would you like to do a complete inventory?”

Her half-moon eyebrows waggle. “Tempting.” She gives me one last pat. “But we’ve got work to do, young man.”

Just to prolong the fun, and because I can’t help it, I nod my head toward the window. “Couldn’t help but notice, your plane looks ‘like a big Tylenol.’”

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