Page 71 of Pregnant in Plaid
Chapter 11
Trace
The bow tie is trying to kill me.
I've been wrestling with this strip of fabric for ten minutes, and it's currently winning. In the mirror, I look less like a best man and more like someone being strangled by their own formal wear.
"Need help?" Gage asks from the doorway.
I turn around. He's already dressed—suit fitting perfectly, tie knotted like he does this every day instead of once in a lifetime. He looks calm, collected, completely unlike someone about to get married in front of their entire town.
"How are you not freaking out?" I ask, giving up on the bow tie.
"I am freaking out." He walks over and takes the tie from me. "I'm just doing it quietly."
"You're always quiet. It’s why you were such a good SEAL."
"Exactly. Now hold still."
He ties the bow tie with the kind of efficiency that makes me feel like an incompetent toddler. Within thirty seconds, it's perfect.
"How did you?—"
"YouTube," he admits. "Watched seven videos on this last night."
"You prepared for tying a bow tie?"
"I always prepare for everything." He steps back and adjusts his own tie in the mirror. "Vows memorized. Rings in my pocket. Escape route planned in case I pass out."
"You're not going to pass out."
"Probably not. But I have a plan just in case."
I laugh and grab my jacket from the chair. We're getting ready in one of the back rooms at the small chapel Tessa fell in love with—white wood, stained glass windows, enough seating for maybe fifty people. It's simple and perfect, exactly like them.
"You nervous?" I ask.
"Terrified," he says. Then he grins. "But in a good way. You know?"
"Not really."
"You will." He claps me on the shoulder. "When you stop being an idiot and tell Patrice how you feel."
"We've been through this."
"And we'll keep going through it until you actually do something about it, Soldier." He checks his watch. "Ceremony starts in twenty minutes. You ready?"
"To watch my best friend get married? Yeah. I'm ready."
"Good. Because if I'm doing this, you're standing up there with me."
“I got your six, Captain.”
We head out to the main chapel. People are already arriving—familiar faces from town, a few of Tessa's friends from Florida, Gage's mom looking elegant and emotional in the front row. The florist is making last-minute adjustments to the arrangements, and someone's testing the sound system with what I think is supposed to be classical music but sounds more like a cat being slowly murdered by a violin.
I take my place at the front next to Gage. He's gone completely still, hands clasped in front of him, staring at the back doors like he's trying to will Tessa into existence through sheer force of concentration.
"She'll be here," I say quietly.
