Page 664 of Rock Me All Night
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In the morning, we order room service and eat breakfast in bed. Pete leaves a little after noon to tend to his best man duties. Surely, it can't take the groom more than an hour to get ready. He wears a suit, combs his hair, done.
I take a long shower, dress, and join Meg and Kara to do my makeup. Apparently, Willow is getting ready alone. Well, with her maid of honor, Drew. We giggle over the thought of the overprotective guitarist helping his sister with her hair and makeup.
The hours pass quickly. The girls are drinking champagne. For once, I indulge. Without lunch or dinner in my stomach, I get tipsy quickly.
At six, we put the finishing touches on our makeup and take a cab to the ceremony site—the beach, a few miles north of the hotel. Everything is set up on the sand. It's beautiful—an altar decked with hot pink flowers, white folding chairs lined with turquoise ribbon, rose petals lining the aisle.
I only recognize a few people. Flutters fill my stomach. I'm nervous for them. Kara and Meg make chit chat, mostly speculation about Willow's dress—no one has seen it except Ophelia.
The sun sinks into the horizon until the sky is streaked with hot pink. The seats are full. It's time for the ceremony. A coordinator tells everyone to stand. Music plays.
The procession starts. First, Pete and Drew. The best man and the maid of honor. They aren't quite arm in arm, but they're close enough people could talk. It doesn't seem to bother Drew. He's beaming.
Pete too. His smile is ear to ear. His eyes catch mine. He winks. I'm not sure what it means. Only that it makes me warm all over.
Damn does he look good in that dark navy suit. It brings out the flecks of lightness in his deep brown eyes.
Then it's Tom, arm in arm with Ophelia. Her hair is turquoise. Her dress is pink. Despite her recent health scare, she looks strong and bad ass. She holds onto Tom, her face beaming with pride. There isn't a hint of disbelief. For all I've heard of Tom's manwhore reputation, there's no doubt in anyone's mind that he's happier with Willow.
Actually, the drummer is nervous. He adjusts his grey suit as he takes his place at the altar. His eyes turn to the aisle. Then they're wide with enthusiasm, his cheeks pink. Still nervous but mostly excited.
His eyes are fixed on Willow. Damn is it impossible to look anywhere else. She's a pretty girl, but she goes far beyond that today. She glows like the setting sun. It's nothing about her elegant faux updo or her soft, natural makeup. It's not even her off-the-shoulders chiffon dress. Okay, the dress doesn't hurt. The wind blows it in every direction. It flashes hints of her hot pink wedges. She looks like an angel. Well, with the pink tipped hair it's more like a punk rock angel.
Mostly, she looks happy.
I've never seen a group of people this happy. Something warm and salty stings my eye. A tear.
A happy one.
I cry through the entire ceremony, utterly in awe of the happiness around me.
Pete may not know what love feels like, but I do.
This, is love.
* * *
Champagne and happinessis a dangerous combination. Everything is a blur of joy and love. We pose for photographs on the sand. Then we're at the cozy reception, eating an amazing vegetarian pasta dish with twenty of Tom and Willow's closet friends.
Come time to cut the cake, I drink another glass of champagne. It pairs strangely with the rich chocolate flavor, but I enjoy feeling like part of the celebration. Truth is, I don't need the champagne to feel bubbly and light. I only need today.
Pete wipes the chocolate frosting from my lips with his thumb. Then his thumb is in my mouth and I'm interested in more than the love of another couple. He looks sexy in his suit. Good thing he's not wearing his glasses. I'd have to take him right here at the reception.
It would be tacky, having sex at another couple's wedding.
Instead, I pull him onto the dance floor. My dance skills are pitiful, but I have fun moving my body with his. Okay, I admit it. At this point, I'm drunk.
The songs blur together. It feels right, in his arms, part of the family.
It's everything I want.
He's everything I want.
The words jump into my throat. I kiss him so they won't get out. He tastes good, like chocolate and champagne. We go back to dancing. Everyone is happy. But tired.
It's almost midnight when the bride and groom take their exit. Another toast—this time I hold off. They skip their champagne. Instead, they go straight to their limo.
