I shake it off, blow a raspberry through my lips, and wave my hand around as her question spurs another tear to drop. “Oh yeah.” I wipe my face with my palm, forcing a laugh out of my chest. “Weddings just really get me, you know?”
She nods but doesn’t seem convinced, smiling as she lightly pats my arm. “Yeah. I know what you mean.”
We file out after the bride and groom, all of us walking out of the church doors to make our way to the garden reception. The one thing I am looking forward to is being able to change out of this dress once we get there. I look anywhere but at the couple, the five-minute walk feeling like a thirty-minute one as everyone laughs and talks happily in our giant wedding train.
I break off of it the second I see the path toward the suite we’re using to change, my pace picking up to a light jog as soon as I’m out of sight. I burst into the room, ripping my current dress off to leave in a puddle on the floor as quickly as I can. I don’t want to be in here when the other girls come in to freshen up. I don’t want to watch Viva change gowns or be forced to help her fix her hair. I tug my black dress off its hanger, stepping into the tight fabric and sliding it up my form. Surprisingly, we got free rein on what we could wear to the reception and I took full advantage of that.
My dress is a floor-length gown, split up the thigh on my left leg with long sleeves and a deep V in the front that stops at the bottom of my sternum. It’s completely inappropriate for the event and as far from the pink-and-white color scheme as I could get. I grab the long-layered necklaces I had looped around the neck of my hanger and put them on one by one, letting them fall over the sides of my exposed breasts and collarbone. I hear the girls outside and quickly take out the bun from in my hair, letting it fall in deep waves around my shoulders. Snatching my dark burgundy lipstick, I race out the back door, taking a deep breath when I get out without them seeing me.
Swiping on my lipstick, I head out to the reception.
I’m only required to be here until their first dance, then I can leave. I just need to keep it together for a few more hours. Walking into the already bustling party, I stop a waiter holding a tray of wine with my hand on his arm. “Just, one minute please.” He pauses, watching me set my lipstick on his tray then grab a wine glass in each hand. I throw one back and then the other, setting both glasses back on the tray. He starts forward again, “No, not yet.” I grab another one and throw that back also. Giving the man a cheeky smile as he gapes at me. I set that now empty glass down and grab my lipstick. “Now you can go.”
“You know that’s not how you’re supposed to drink wine, right?” I jump as Donatello speaks in my ear, lightly smacking his face as he laughs.
“Don’t do that to me. I hate it.” I hold my lipstick out to him and he stuffs it into the pocket of his trousers, looking out at the crowd to see what I’m glaring at.
“Are we giving someone the stink eye or…?”
“This is just my face.”
He chuckles, forcing me to look at him by gripping my shoulders. “You’re fine, yeah? With all this?”
I frown at him. For a moment I was able to forget what this party was for, but now I can feel that slow burn trying to fill my throat. “Yes. I’m fine.”
“No, she’s not. She just won’t say that because she’s too nice and doesn’t want to ruin it for anyone else.” I’m suddenly being spun to face Andrea, his hands replacing Donatello’s. “We saw you crying, Bev. You can hide it from everyone else but not us.”
Knowing I was caught sits heavy on my chest and I clear the lump in my throat before shaking my head at Andrea. “I wasn’t crying.” I ask a question to hide the tremble trying to start in my chin. “Where’s Julian?” It comes out broken and I bite my lip, looking away from Andrea’s face and hoping he didn’t catch it.
“Fuck, Bev.” He tugs me to his chest, letting me hide my face as the quiet tears I’ve been fighting all morning finally break loose. I feel Donatello’s hand touch the top of my head as he kisses the back of it, resting it there in silent comfort, his thumb stroking the back of my hair.
“He’s with Remy. He’ll be here soon.” It’s Donatello who answers, his hand leaving my head as he steps back, giving me room to step out of Andrea’s hold when I get my shit together. I just nod, taking a deep breath as I look up at the sky to avoid looking at either of them.
When I look back down, Donatello steps in front of me, using his thumbs to wipe the black of my mascara from under my eyes. “It’s okay to not be okay, Bev.”
I swipe my own fingers under my eyes, making sure he didn’t miss anything. When I’m done, I look back out at the party, the sudden cheering announcing the arrival of the happy couple. I look at Donatello and he nods, already thinking what I’m thinking. “Let’s get drunk.”
REMY
I slide into the car waiting for us, scooting all the way over to the far side as Viva takes her sweet fucking time getting in. “Hurry the fuck up, Viva.”
She shuts her door, her smile disappearing the second the tinted windows block us from sight. “What’s crawled up your ass now? You’ve been fine all night.”
I tug at my tie, loosening it enough so I can rip it off and toss it onto the seat between us. No, I haven’t been fine all night. My attention was on Beverly all fucking night. She was all I could see, all I could think about. I saw the tears trying to fight out of her beautiful eyes when she thought I was kissing Viva at the altar and it took everything I fucking am not to end it right there.
I didn’t kiss Viva, but she wouldn’t know that. The only person who could see that past my arm was the priest, and considering I hired him, I doubt he gave a shit.
Beverly is always beautiful, but she looked stunning in her dress.
The way her necklaces swayed with her movements, the soft swells of her breasts taunting and teasing me from across the lawn. The absolute most beautiful woman on this fucking planet that I had to pretend to ignore. I’m glad she had Donatello and Andrea tonight, but fuck did they piss me off. Especially Donatello, the hornybastardo. They got every dance, every laugh, every touch.
Everything that is mine.
She didn’t meet my gaze once during the reception and even though I know it’s mostly because of Donatello’s and Andrea’s distracting, I can’t help but feel bitter about it. That’s all I get now, my only time with her.
A second washed in green-and-gold beauty.
But of course, Viva wouldn’t have noticed anything was wrong with me, she can’t see anything past her own reflection and her lists. “I’m done being here.”