Page 75 of Holiday Unscripted
“You would think that would be a sign not to call me back.”
“I’m calling you back to say happy Christmas Eve. I’ve never been more excited for a day in my life like I am for today.”
“Aww,” he says.
“It’s finally fucking over now. I never have to hear about your wedding for the rest of my life.” I smile. “See you at the altar,” I say and hang up on him.
“As much as I love watching you fuck with him, how about for today you lay off him?” I raise my eyebrows. “At least until they walk down the aisle.”
“Ugh.” I roll my eyes. “Fine.”
“That’s my girl,” he praises and I don’t even know if he knows what those words do to me. “We should get going.”
“Yeah,” I agree, and before we get up, he leans in and kisses me. Something that feels like he’s been doing it his whole life. Something I feel like I have been receiving my whole life. Something that, come next week, I won’t have.
Five minutes later, we’re both walking out of the house. He carries his garment bag with his bag of shoes hanging from the hanger and my bag in the other hand. “Close the door, baby.” He’s called me that a couple of times, usually while we were in the middle of sex. He’s never ever called me that outside of bed.
I don’t say anything back, instead I just close the door and meet him at the truck. He shuts the back passenger door on his side. He is wearing black joggers and a white sweater, his hair showing me where he ran his hand through it right before we walked out the door. His eyes are bright green with the sun. “Ready?” I ask him and he nods his head. Instead of walking around the truck to the other side, I get on my tippy-toes and kiss his lips softly. My stomach flutters when he opens the door for me, slapping my ass before walking around the truck to his side.
Twenty minutes later, he’s pulling up in front of the venue where everything is taking place. “What is going on over there?” I point to the side where a white tent is now up and I see people rushing in with heaters. “This motherfucker is going to get married outside?” I shake my head. “Idiot.”
“I’ll let him know you approve,” he jokes as I reach for the door handle and open the door. I’m about to get out when he grabs my hand. “I’ll see you later,” he says and his hand comes up to hold my cheek. Something he has done more than once over the last couple of days. Something I’ve come to look forward to, before he softly kisses my lips.
“I’ll be one of the ones wearing green,” I tell him as a joke, getting out and grabbing my bag from the back. He looks at me with a smile. “Have fun.”
I close the door and turn toward the venue, opening the door and seeing Doreen there with her headset on again as she talks to someone, but stops when she sees me. “Upstairs.” She points to the side stairs. “Room numbers four and five are the changing rooms. Your dress is steamed and waiting for you. Rooms one, two, and three are the glam rooms. I think you start with your hair.”
I nod to her and head to the stairs, seeing the loft has a long table against the railing with food on it. Everything from pastries to bagels to a man standing there in front of two hot plates that can do either pancakes or omelets. I smile at him before heading to room five first to see if my dress is in there. I find it in room four, hanging right next to my mother’s. I put my bag that holds my purse and shoes down in front of it before heading toward where the voices are coming from.
I push open the first room and see my mother there with my aunts, all of them in chairs. The room is transformed into a glam room, to say the least, with six hair stylists getting them ready. “Hello,” I say, walking into the room and seeing the eyes all come to me. My mother’s eyes light up. “Happy Christmas Eve,” I greet, walking to her and kissing her cheek and then grabbing the mimosa out of her hand and finishing it for her.
“Happy Christmas Eve, my love,” she replies softly.
I walk over to my aunt Zara, her smile fades and she glares at me. “If you are coming here to finish my drink,” she teases me, “think again.” I bend to kiss her cheek. “How’s my favorite niece?”
I sit in one of the empty seats as a woman comes in with a tray of drinks. She does a quick scan of the room, coming straight to me, and I take one of the flutes from her tray, then look back at my aunt Zara. “I have to ask you a serious question.” Her eyes go big and it feels like everyone in the room stops what they are doing and you can hear a pin drop. “Will you answer me honestly?”
“Of course,” she says and I can see my mother grip the arms of her chair.
“How many times have you said that to your other nieces?” I wink at her and she throws her head back and laughs.
“Elizabeth,” my mother hisses at me, “I thought you were going to ask her something serious.”
I roll my eyes as one of the hairdressers comes over and starts to do my hair. “I have a serious question to ask you.” Zara turns it around on me as I look in the standing mirror that is in front of each chair.
“Oh, I can’t wait for this one,” I quip, taking a sip of my own drink.
“When do you think you’ll move back home?” she asks, and before I answer, she starts, “I know, I know, you have a whole life there and whatnot.”
“And whatnot.” I laugh at that part of the sentence.
“Think about it,” she advises. “If you get married”—I look at her through the mirror—“you can’t get married there.”
“Why not?”
“Because you can’t.” That’s all she says, as if that’s good enough. “Then what if you have children. What are you going to do, raise them there?”
“Well, I never thought about that,” I answer her honestly, “but I don’t know if you know this or not, but they allow children in Australia. It’s even a happy event when you have them.”
