Page 7 of Prince Charmless
“Got your toast ready?” Julien asks.
I snap out of whatever I was snapped into. “Yep.” I pull out the folded square piece of paper from my bra. “I’m a little nervous, actually. I’m not sure if what I wrote is good enough.”
Julien waves a careless hand. “Nah, you’ll be fine. If you want, I can take a look at it.”
“Doesn’t that defeat the purpose? You’ll already know what I’ll be saying.”
He shrugs. “Maybe, but I’m great at talking. I can give it a once over if it’ll make you feel better.” And what would I know about speech-writing?
“Thank you, Jules.” I set my speech on vanity, then quickly flip it over to the side that doesn’t have the caricature I doodled of Taylor. Last night, while proofreading, I cathartically drew hisnose overly angular and his crown too small for his head. It was a fun way to procrastinate.
I turn towards my inspiration. He’s off his phone now, at least, looking at me, glaring.
“I’ve been asked to see if you still have the rings,” I say.
He reaches a hand into his jacket and holds up the small velvet box.
I’d do anything for Rachel, I’d do anything for Rachel, I’d do anything for Rachel.
“And to see them with my own eyeballs,” I squeak. “She wants to make sure you haven’t eaten them.”
He opens the box towards himself. His brows furrow at the contents before he darts his gaze back to me.
My knees almost buckle. “Oh my God, are they not there?”
His expression recedes to its usual aloofness as he displays the two gold bands perfectly intact.
My breathing neutralizes. “Yes, you’re very funny.”
I leave the room before he can make another joke.
––––––––
The ceremony went without a flaw. Rings were exchanged, vows were given, happy tears were shed. The manor is stunning when all lit up and decorated. It’s like stuff you see in wedding magazines and think, ‘How do people afford this?’ Each centerpiece has a different type of vase and flower, but who really cares? I would like to take a picture of it all, but the wedding is no-phones-allowed. Rachel explained that was Taylor’s one caveat to being a groomsman. I don’t blame him for wanting to scrape every amount of privacy he can get.
As I listen to Julien reminisce about a crazy drunken night in Morocco, I feel a tap on my shoulder. Taylor holds a folded piece of paper toward me. He’s sitting amongst Julien’s horde of siblings. Of course, they placed him as close to me as possiblewithout him physically being at the bride and groom’s table. Julien must’ve forgotten to give the speech back to me.
“Thanks,” I say as I take it.
I open it to find scribbles all over the thing. It couldn’t have been that bad, could it? Julien’s cursive handwriting is a lot girlier than I expected it to be. Some things are crossed out, sentences are moved around, and he even replaced the quip I made about the royal elephant in the room. Before it read,I’m not going to make a joke about His Highness being here because I heard if doesn’t land, he can have someone chop off one of my fingers.Short. Meta. Should have gotten a laugh, right? It now readsTaylor was our ring bearer today. I’m not sure whose idea it was to trust anybody in the royal family with precious jewelry.A little harsh, in my opinion. About a week after Princess Charlotte’s funeral, her heirloom emerald necklace worth over a million dollars somehow went missing. There were a bunch of conspiracy theories about how it was stolen or how members of the royal family hawked off the recently deceased princess’s jewelry on the black market. I can’t read this in front of Taylor, right? I’m not sure how touchy he is about gossip, especially gossip that involves his mom, who died of cancer when he was a teenager.
I guess if Julien thinks it’s okay.
I quickly memorize the changes as Julien’s twin brothers give their best men’s speech. When it’s my turn, I tell the crowd how Rachel and I are the sisters we never had, how we met in grade four and bonded over our love of Justin Timberlake. I tell them how, while Julien may not be Justin, there couldn’t be anyone in the world more perfect for her. A little syrupy, but I do mean it.
I fumble with my paper when I get to Taylor’s joke. After scanning the smiling crowd and realizing that none of them are going to remember this after tomorrow, I make the split-second decision to take the margin’s advice. While everyone else laughs,Taylor’s blank expression remains stagnant. I might’ve ruined whatever chance we had at saving the relationship.
Thankfully, I succeed in my speech-giving without any embarrassment. Now starts the fun part of the reception. As I leave my table to grab a glass of wine, I try to calculate the appropriate amount of alcohol to consume at a wedding this fancy. The Thibeauxs went all out, with waiters, live music, and a giant, tiered wedding cake with gold accents. I didn’t think Rachel could top her old Hollywood-themed bat mitzvah. Most of the weddings I’ve been to have been buffet events.
Julien’s younger sister taps my elbow at the bar. “I liked your joke about Taylor.”
She means the joke I didn’t write.
“Thank you, but I got it from your brother.”
I wonder if she knows any more about Taylor personally. I’ll admit I’m interested in what the man is like behind his shield of unreadableness.
“So, did Julien and him hang out together a lot as kids?” I ask.
