Page 80 of Take Me to the Wedding

My hand flew up to my chest, pressing over my rapidly beating heart. He had no idea how much it meant that he wanted to share with me all the joy and thrills of this special night.

He kept his hand on my shoulder to steady himself as he pointed out all the planets and constellations I’d learned about in school, in Greek mythology, in science class. I loved the quiet cadence of his voice, but I could barely focus.

“Sam?” I suddenly heard my name. “What are you thinking?”

I wrapped my arms around him, making him turn to face me. “My grandmother was wonderful, but there was no time or money for spontaneous outings. This is… something I’ve never experienced.” There was tenderness in his eyes. “Don’t feel sorry for me. I’m just trying to say that you’ve opened my eyes to…”

“Fun. I want to show you so much fun. I want toamazeyou.” He sounded so intense, so sure, so full of emotion that I believed him. I believed every word. He lightly touched the space between my brows. “I want to show you things that make those little lines appear between your eyes when you’re concentrating really deeply. I want to show you things that will make you full of wonder at what you’re seeing.”

“Iamfull of wonder at what I’m seeing,” I said as I looked into his eyes.

He pulled me in and softly kissed my forehead. The summer night was quiet except for the low and steady song of crickets, the damp, dewy smell of growing things surrounding us. In the darkness, there was only the sensation of his nearness, of feeling his warm, solid body, hearing his quiet breathing. We stood together like that for a minute, my whole body seeming to hold its breath in anticipation. I was filled with a dizzy rush, my pulse pounding, every muscle poised and tense.

“I thought we could enjoy the stars from the back of my truck,” he said. “I blew up an air mattress.”

“Nice move.” I couldn’t resist that.

“Hey, give me a break. I’ve got a bum leg.”

I was already halfway to the truck, beating him there. Giving a nod, he opened the tailgate and handed me his crutches, then braced and lifted himself up to the bed of the truck. Then he reached out a hand and helped me up.

We lay there together, side by side, enjoying being together at last. Caleb took my hand, bringing it slowly to his lips. “No streetlights, no farmhouse lights, no people. It’s like we’re the only ones on earth. Us and millions of stars.”

As he turned to me, I yielded to his lips, felt the taste of him on my tongue, ran my hands through the thick silk of his hair, felt his back tense and arch as he pulled me to him. We spoke no more words. For once I forgot to protest, to warn myself, to pull away.

I’d had sex but I’d never made love. Or been made love to. And as we shattered into pieces, he was there, kissing me, holding me, murmuring softly how beautiful I was, how lucky he was to be here with me. I was completely overwhelmed. As a tear escaped from the corner of my eye, he caught it with the tip of his finger.

I traced his forehead, the ridge of his brow, the curve of his cheek, the strength of his jaw, memorizing every bit of him. “Are you real?” escaped from my lips. Silly words, but they were a reflection of what I was feeling—that this was a brief blip of time, too pure, too magical to ever last. Things in my world simply didn’t.

He took my hand and kissed it. Looked deeply into my eyes. “Don’t be afraid,” he said as if he could read my mind. “I got you.”

He pulled me to him, reached over for the blanket, and tucked it in around us. We fell asleep holding each other, under a sky full of stars.

ChapterTwenty-Two

Samantha

The wedding hotel was a renovated brick Victorian building about ten minutes from the venue in a sweet little town, and it was also where the rehearsal dinner was to take place. The next day, Caleb and I drove there, leaving Wynn behind to work the farm, so to speak. Or really, to have the farm, i.e., Beth and Steven, work their magic on her.

I dropped off my dress and suitcase in my room and went up to the sixth and top floor, where Ani occupied a large corner suite where all the bridesmaids were coming to congregate before the rehearsal. I walked in carrying two ice buckets, champagne chilling in each.

“Hey.” I stuck my head into the room, seeing lots of long, double-hung windows and a big bay window in front of which Ani sat by herself on a green velvet-covered settee. I set the buckets on a counter. “I brought the champagne, but I need to go back and get the glasses?—”

“Oh Sam, wait,” she said. “Come in.” She wore faded, ripped jeans and a white T-shirt and was barefoot. I immediately sensed a nervous energy as she stared at her newly manicured nails, her hands stretched out on her legs. She stared so long that I immediately sensed that something was wrong. Suddenly she stood and ran toward me, gripping me by my arms with a panicked intensity. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

“Me too,” I said carefully, assessing the situation. “I’m glad to be here for your special day.” I took a glance around the room—sitting area, coffee area and fridge, and a lovely view of the cute downtown, where an art festival was setting up for the weekend. My heart sank as I realized that she was clearly upset, and I was the only one here. Of course I’d heard of wedding jitters, but I, who typically ran from relationships faster than 6G wireless, was the last person on earth who should be on the front lines dealing with them.

Ani immediately dissolved into tears. Wrung her hands. Paced back and forth in the beautiful sunlit room. She was always so calm and often outright joyful—I’d never seen her like this. I put my arm around her, walked her to the sofa, and made her sit down. Then I grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and made her drink some.

Scenarios rushed through my brain. Did Tyler cheat? Was there an accident? Those were justifiable crises. But another, in some ways even more ominous thought occurred—what if Ani had simply decided that she couldn’t go through with this wedding?

Somewhere in the middle of all this, Mia walked in. She immediately sat down on the couch and wrapped her arm around Ani’s shoulder. “Honey, what’s wrong? What happened?”

“First of all, Tyler’s perfect,” Ani said between sobs. “He loves me. He’s uncomplicated, and I’m complicated. He puts up with me. I couldn’t hope for a better match.”

“Yes,” I said. “Tyler loves you.” She sounded like… her mother convincing her of all that. Was this to be expected of someone on the brink of a lifetime commitment? I had no idea, but love wasn’t merely being grateful that someone put up with you, was it? Unless it was both of you admitting that you put up with each other equally.

Maybe I shouldn’t have agreed with the fact that Tyler loved her. Maybe Ani didn’t need people to reassure her of that. What if Ani needed someone to let her be free to make her own choice? What if Tyler, awkward, sometimes rude, short-tempered, and condescending, wasn’t right for her, as we, Ani’s friends, suspected but tended to suppress?

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